I Got Nothin

Sorry folks -- lately I just seem to keep smacking into the Nothing To Talk About wall. I don't even have anything to share about having nothing to share. Weird huh.

Not So Great

"Being a piece of shit and then occasionally doing something that's good and true, it's a much easier place to be." Amen Kenny, amen.

All faces resemble each other, yet how easily we see in each uniqueness, individuality, an identity. How deeply we value these differences. The ocean is a whole, but it has countless waves, every one different from all the others; it has currents, each unique, ever-changing; the bottom is a landscape all its own, different everywhere; similarly the shoreline. The atmosphere is whole, but its currents have unique signatures, even though they are just wind. Life on earth is a whole, yet it expresses itself in unique time-bound bodies, microscopic or visible plant or animal, extinct or living. So there can be no one place to be. There can be no one way to be, no one way to practice, no one way to learn, no one way to love, no one way to grow or to heal, no one way to live, no one way to feel, no one thing to know or to be known. The particulars count.

~ Wherever You Go There You Are (p. 230)

That up there is some deep shit my friends. It's a passage in my current read and it totally resonated with me. It's like the universe is giving me permission to be whatever kind of nutball freak job I need to be - sweet!

PCP

It's not nearly as bad for you as they say, my version anyway.

Parsnip Carrot and Potato Soup

Soup
2 large carrots
2 large parsnips
1 large potato
1 smallish onion
3-4 cups of low sodium chicken stock
salt/pepper

Garnish
sliced bread
dill
sour cream
shredded cheddar cheese
nonfat plain yogurt



While you are preheating your oven to 425 degrees, peel the vegetables. I think peeling the potato is definitely optional. Personally, I liked the texture of the skin on in the soup, but your meal won't suffer if your tater goes skinless.

Slice all your veges roughly the same size so they will cook evenly but don't make a big deal out of it because they are headed for the blender after roasting.

Then you want to show them the love with a generous oiling and some salt and pepper. Salting preferences tend to be very personal - like thongs and religion - you just know what works for you. I will only offer that you definitely want flavorful PCPs (and onion) when you are done roasting because they are the star of your soup show, so taste them when you pull them out of the oven if you are unsure about the salting.

Once you are done seasoning, spread everything out on a sheet pan in a single layer and roast until fork tender. I roasted mine for about 20 minutes. If you have cut your veges into smaller pieces, you will probably need to shorten that time.

Give everything a few minutes to cool off and then slice into smaller pieces for easy blending. If you have an immersion blender you can throw everything into a pot with the chicken stock and puree. If not, simply do that step in a regular blender and then pour into a soup pot to heat.

Once your PCP is nice and warm, you are ready to roll with garnishes baby! It's like liquid taco bar........except not really...but sorta.

Toasted bread can be cubed into perfect croutons to add some crunch. I like a sprinkle of dill and dollop of sour cream action with my PCP. Shredded cheddar is also yum because it adds a sharp to the sweet. Non fat yogurt is also really good for tang and creaminess. I stirred in a half of an individual serving of plain yogurt when I was heating my soup.

Want to go spicy? Try some curry! Allergic to vegetarian meals? Throw some bacon on that roasting pan before it goes in the oven and then crumble a slice or two on top.

This is your PCP people -- the sky's the limit -- be creative! And enjoy!

Curiosity

may have killed the cat; more likely

the cat was just unlucky, or else curious
to see what death was like, having no cause
to go on licking paws, or fathering
litter on litter of kittens, predictably.

Nevertheless, to be curious
is dangerous enough. To distrust
what is always said, what seems
to ask odd questions, interfere in dreams,
leave home, smell rats, have hunches
do not endear cats to those doggy circles
where well-smelt baskets, suitable wives, good lunches
are the order of things, and where prevails
much wagging of incurious heads and tails.

Face it. Curiosity
will not cause us to die--
only lack of it will.
Never to want to see
the other side of the hill
or that improbable country
where living is an idyll
(although a probable hell)
would kill us all.

Only the curious have, if they live, a tale
worth telling at all.

Dogs say cats love too much, are irresponsible,
are changeable, marry too many wives,
desert their children, chill all dinner tables
with tales of their nine lives.
Well, they are lucky. Let them be
nine-lived and contradictory,
curious enough to change, prepared to pay
the cat price, which is to die
and die again and again,
each time with no less pain.
A cat minority of one
is all that can be counted on
to tell the truth. And what cats have to tell
on each return from hell
is this: that dying is what the living do,
that dying is what the loving do,
and that dead dogs are those who do not know
that dying is what, to live, each has to do.

~ By Alastair Reid

If the last fifty four seconds don't crack you up, then I fear for your funny bone.

Saint Francis Soup Kitchen

I just got back from Saint Francis Soup Kitchen and I am all spunkified from my visit! I wish I could have taken you with me, or at least remembered my camera.

Today was delivery day for the first monthly installment of Guerrilla Goodies (check here if I am confusing you).

SFSK has been serving the hungry for over 25 years. Each day a hearty meal of soup, salad, bread, coffee and milk are served to over 180 people at noon. The Kitchen is one place where those in need will find a kind welcome, food, and an opportunity to rest in safety.

This month we had four different kinds of sweet treats to share and the Director of the kitchen, Richard Crowe, seemed very happy to accept our goodies. In fact he asked me to thank the ladies for him, and everyone at the kitchen.

"Thanks for all the lovely desserts ladies!" ~Richard (Scroll down and see if you think Mr. Crowe had a hand in choosing the paint color for the dining hall)

Richard offered me a little tour and we walked through the small crowded kitchen. It looked like a combination of regular staff and volunteers were working away. The kitchen emptied into the dining hall - what a lovely space [insert no camera on hand remorse here]!

Beautiful high ceilings with walls painted a rich, warm yellow. Every table had a little vase with a flower in it, and the room was filled with light from the wall of windows.

The only picture of the dining hall that I could find online. It really doesn't do it justice. I will have to remember my camera next time.

I think our tasty treats might add a little more light to that room. This month we had two different kinds of cookies - chocolate chip and sweet potato spice cookies. We also had a yummalicious lemon cake and a big batch of brownies.

A quick picture of our sweet treats before I hopped in the car to deliver them. This is just a sampling actually as we had a couple of containers of each. It made for a very nice overflowing bag to share - thanks ladies!

On my way out of the kitchen, I got a treat too. A man with Jesus-esque hair and a little bit of a lazy eye gave me a rapid fire, Rainman cadence blessing. From what I could gather about the risings, the savings and the graces, I think it was a bible passage.

It was actually very sweet and I appreciated him taking the time to try and save me. I might play the lotto this week before the magical powers wear off.

Before you know it, we will be all set to do it again. I am already looking forward to it!

For it is in giving that we receive.
~ St. Francis of Assisi

I think Francis may have been on to something...

Anger Management

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd
forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it.
A man answered, saying "Hello."

I politely said, "This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn
Carter?"

Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear "Get the right blankety blank number!" and the phone was slammed down on me.

I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked
down Robyn's correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.

After hanging up with her, I decided to call the wrong number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled "You're a jackass!" and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word 'jackass' next to it, and put it in my desk drawer.

Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell,
"You're a jackass!" It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic jackass calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from the telephone company. I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Program?"

He yelled "NO!" and slammed down the phone. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're a jackass!" and hung up.

One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For Sale sign in his back window, so I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first jackass (I had his number on speed dial), I thought that I'd better call the BMW jackass, too. I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"
He said, "Yes, it is.." I asked, "Can you tell me where I can see it?"
He said, "Yes, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd , in Fairfax .
It's a yellow rambler, and the car's parked right out in front."
I asked, "What's your name?" He said, "My name is Don Hansen."
I asked, "When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
He said, "I'm home every evening after five."

I said, "Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
He said, "Yes?"
I said, "Don, you're a jackass!"

Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had a problem, I had two jackasses to call.

Then I came up with an idea.
I called Jackass #1.
He said, "Hello."
I said, "You're a jackass!"
(But I didn't hang up.)

He asked, "Are you still there?"
I said, "Yeah."
He screamed, "Stop calling me!"
I said, "Make me."
He asked, "Who are you?"

I said, "My name is Don Hansen."
He said, "Yeah? Where do you live?"
I said, "Asshole, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd , in Fairfax , a yellow rambler, I have a black Beamer parked in front."

He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don.
And you had better start saying your prayers."
I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, jackass," and hung up.

Then I called Jackass No. 2.
He said, "Hello?"
I said, "Hello, jackass ."
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."
I said, "You'll what?"
He exclaimed, "I'll kick your tail,"
I answered, "Well, jackass, here's your chance.

I'm coming over right now."

Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 34 Oaktree Blvd , in Fairfax , and that my gay lover was on his way over to kill me. Then I called Channel 9 News about the gang war going down in Oaktree Blvd in Fairfax .

I quickly got into my car and headed over to Fairfax I got there just in time to watch two jackasses beating the devil out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead news helicopter and surrounded by a news crew.

NOW I feel much better.

Anger Management really works!


Author behind depiction of this totally well adjusted way to deal with people and telephones is unknown.

Six Word Memoirs - Daniella Style

Do you remember back in this post when I promised to do some of my own SWMs? Well I came up with a few for your consideration.

My she dog has many balls.

No hate, but not exceeding eight.

Doughnut, you had me at 'sprinkle'.

I never saw that salsiccia coming.

Think. Over think. Speak. Awkward. Repeat.

My life supposed to be punchline?

Fat chicken still has skinny face.

Shoebox by the sea, lucky me!

Drinking problem. I missed another round?

Orange scented olives. God loves me.

Want to see world without travel.

Rats way bigger than cats - drats!

You're a big ass. Thank you.

Your ass is big. Thank you.

You Can Keep The Puppy Dog Tails

I like snails. Water snails. Seriously. I have them in a couple of rooms in my house. I don't know exactly what it is about them but I have had many over the years and would have even more if I felt like cleaning all the bowls.

My very first snail was Babbalucci. A gold Mystery snail I got the year I was married (don't say it with diamonds, say it with water snails). He lived for many years and grew from the gumball I got at the aquarium store to the golfball he was in his golden mystery years.

Santo moved into my bedroom about six months ago. A rich yellow like Babbalucci, he is in his gumball era right now too. He's a good eater, respects the house rules of not sliming out of his bowl and breaking his snail ass on the dresser below. He also has a great sense of humor - he loves to wing out his peen when my room gets dark so when you flip on the light, everyone gets to do that awkward laugh for having walked in on him during private time. He always gets a "Whoa tiger! Let's roll that bad boy up and put it away!" out of me every time. I know, I know, he's a total crack up.

Pepino was a little chocolate brown nugget that lived out in the living room, but he died last week. I am not sure what happened to him, (actually I am pretty sure he killed himself after the Jersey Shore marathon, it's just that suicide is a hard thing to come to grips with)but he wasn't with us for long.

The two in the photo are shacked up in his old bowl. I just got them. Unlike other snails, Mystery snails aren't trannies, so you have to have a boy and a girl -- and they have to be in love to hump out some baby snail eggs. Keep your fingers crossed, this is potentially the first honeymoon snail suite we've had.

Now I am learning there are jade colored mystery snails, so I may just have to get another bowl going...

Toss It In And Get It Over With Already!

I think I am going to throw it in. Give up. I know we aren't supposed to do that, but I am just so damned tired.

Tired of being completely mortified every time I ask for money. Sick to death of looking at inventory in my garage that I have no money to ship. Cringing every time I take money out of my savings to pay down corporate debt.

I still marvel at the corporation part. That's right party people: I started a corporation. I still remember my delighted shock when the IRS loved me enough to approve my 54 page exemption application. I know, who would have thought?! OAP will be three years old next month.

The upcoming deadline to renew the website (and corresponding expense that goes with it) has compelled me to really stop and look at the state of my corporation. It's a sorry state, truth be told. I so believed in what OAP was set up to do that I always had this fantasy that the funding would follow based on their sheer rightness of what we were doing.

It was perfect in my mind. Almost everything went directly towards our mission. We didn't pay salaries, office or storage rent, nothing. We bought our supplies, paid our shipping, carried our insurance and did our basics for exposure like modest printing costs and the price of the website.

I thought I was upholding an ideal that I always wished more charities could run on. Now I am so tired I don't even give a damn.

I didn't ask for enough help or enough money and I ended up running both myself and OAP's potential, right into the ground.

I keep thinking I am wrong for being done. You aren't supposed to ever give up, right? I am letting people down because I don't fund raise better. I should try harder. I should wait it out and somehow everything will get itself back on track.

Oh but live and learn Daniella! Failure is such a great teacher! Next time you are going to know so much more! Yeah, whatthefuckever.

I should have learned more this time.

All Other Tropical Storms Must Bow Before The Nino

I just read an article about how this week's group of storms in California is moving through in a "classic El Nino pattern". So for those of you who don't know what that means......El Nino...is Spanish for...The Nino.

Taking A Sit

Ask Anne - that's a real meditation term. When you settle yourself in and meditate, you are taking a sit.

Or maybe you just got done taking a real satisfying sit. It's been one of those days, and you really feel like you have to take a sit. Your pants fit better after that last si....alright, maybe I am taking it a bit too far, but you get my drift.

I have wanted to try a regular meditation practice for a long time now, but apparently the road to anti-zen is paved with good intentions, because I never got around to it. Then a couple of weeks ago Anne and I were discussing a group she meditates with once a week. She enjoys it and on the days in between their meetings they are broken into texting groups where you text someone to tell them you did your daily meditation. If you miss more than one day in a week, you get booted out of the group. Tossed from the herd. Ostracized to a prison colony.

My heart sang at the potential for social humiliation, so I got Anne to initiate me into her group.

I try to concentrate on my breath. I try to become aware of my whole body. I do my best to allow my thoughts to pass through without judgment. All the good shit.



So here are a few of the things that went through my head while I was supposed to be using my third eye to Zen it up:

"I'm not doing this right."

"Another day and I am still not doing this right."

"That donut upside down cake on Serious Eats looks absolutely fabuloso."

"I'm not doing this right."

"My hands are cold."

"I hope I moved enough of the dirt they didn't repack enough in the yard to keep it from flooding with all these storms that are coming."

"When is the alarm going to go off - it's been three hours already."

"What's up pain in my knee - ow!"

"I want to move my desk"

"I was with so-and-so when I bought that desk -- ewww!"

"I want wall to wall built-in bookcases."

"There's no way I am doing this right."

"I wish I had a long hallway where my two big bookcases could go at the end."

"What should I have for dinner?"

"Why do I still feel like my stomach is trying to digest rocks?"

"Alarm is broken. I swear I am going to open my eyes."


Doesn't look like I got anything close to mediation done, right?

"The monkey mind jumps from thought to thought like a monkey jumps from tree to tree. Rather than existing in the present moment, the monkey mind focuses on one thought after another, and these thoughts distract us from existing in the present, which is one of the goals of yoga."

I will be at it again tomorrow.

Hummers

All the 18-34 year old males just outclicked when they saw that picture. Sorry boys - no videos here, just a little bird talk.

I am not a huge fan of the nickname, but they used it repeatedly during the program about Hummingbird's last night. It was an installment of the PBS series Nature, and it was so interesting!

Fun Facts

• There are over 350 different species of Hummingbirds.
• Hummers are the smallest* warm blooded animal on the planet, and can only be found in the Americas.
• They lay eggs that are about the size of Tic Tacs. Well actually, that's what Tic Tacs are - you've been macking on Hummingbird embryos all this time. Nice going.
• There are actual Hummingbird banders out there who have documented some birds to be as old as 12!
• Hummers are the original hover craft. They're ability to move their wings in a figure 8 pattern and hover has given them mad flying skills, including flying backwards and upside down. Take that Aflac duck - you fucking show off!
• They're cute as hell.
• Hummers know sweet is an anytime treat. They believe this whole Diabetes thing is a government created/funded way to torture all of us, and I believe them. Think about government cheese people.

You absolutely must check out the magic in your air and see this program!



* I like the irony that Hummers are the smallest warm blooded creatures, and most of the people who drive Hummers are the biggest douchebags.

You're Probably Going To Hate Me For This...

...but what the fuck are we doing giving $100 million in aid to Haiti?!

I'm sorry but it's ridiculous. You are probably already convinced I am Pat Robertson's evil twin, but maybe you could just let me have a chance to tell you why I think we are being lame: Our country is in a fucking shambles and we are jumping up to bleed out a little more! That's why. Thanks for letting me get that out.

Let's refresh on the current state of our grand old union, shall we? And I will throw the net wide and keep things as general and positive as possible. The current lowhighlights include:

Unemployment rates the highest they have been in decades

Complete healthcare crisis/meltdown

Complete banking crisis/meltdown

National Debt at an all time high

Many small businesses and homeowners struggling to stay afloat

For all intents and purposes, our debt to China means they pretty much own us

Eighth year of US military action in the Middle East

Do you wonder where we just happened to have $100 mil lying around with everything that is going on? Do you ask yourself why our government hasn't made sure that it's own citizens don't suffer? Doesn't it sound at all silly to you folks?!

It does to me.

America has become that lame-ass twenty something guy that is in the hottest car (balloon lease payments), blinging the most tricked out phone (massive security deposit on it), buying the whole club a round in his Armani suit (charged it yo!), before he goes home to sleep in his twin bed (the one his parents got him when he stopped using diapers) back at mom's and pay all the minimums on his secured credit cards.

Whoo! I know I am waving my asshole flag really high here, but I am going to take a shot at redemption here. I am not advocating in the least bit that we ignore the horrific damage and loss the people of Haiti are suffering. I wholeheartedly believe there is something we can and should be doing to help. Of course it is only right and just to honor their need, and do our part. We just make our part way too much of a starring role; and at a time when we literally can't really afford to do so.

We need to learn our limit before that last round goes out for a toast, and we are face down on the floor, getting that Armani all stanky before we can even get it paid off. Which brings me to another thought - who would pick us up off that floor?

Now I have seen like .08 of an episode of that So You Think You're Smarter Than A 5th Grader so I know we as a nation suck at geography...but do we suck to the point where we think we constitute 90% of the countries on this planet? Europe can't help a Haitian out? Is Dubai too strapped from making snow all summer for their indoor ski resort, to send a little food and water?

And maybe they are pitching in - I don't know. Researching facts gets in the way of my anger and sweeping generalizations, so I avoid it like a hooker dodges churches. I am just using them to soften the blow of my very unpopular opinion anyway.

Now that I have bitched about the problem, believe it or not, my lame opinion includes some solution too.

Let Americans decide how much aid goes to Haiti.

In just two days of mass exposure on television, Facebook, Myspace and Twitter, we have donated over $5 million dollars to Haitian relief through the American Red Cross alone, and that number continues to grow. And that is just via their texting option. I am sure many more have mailed in checks and donated on the web.

Many celebrities have also pledged very generous donations to the cause as well.

There are also several not-for-profit organizations that are set up for exactly this sort of need.

Don't believe me? Here's just a tickle of what is out there:

Doctors Without Borders

Partners in Health

International Rescue Committee

International Medical Corps

CARE

American Refugee Committee

Yele Haiti

Save The Children

When I went to get these links, I noticed that several sites are already posting their thanks for the overwhelming amount of support they are receiving for their efforts, so obviously we are pitching in. Doing our part to help a global neighbor in need. Just as it should be.

Don't hate me for having opinions, hate me because deep down inside I am arrogant enough to believe my opinions are important enough to be blog worthy.


PS ~ I love you....and I donated to an org for Haitian aid.

Tummy Monster Force Field Failure

I am one of those people that lives in fear of puking. So much so that me and my body have been in a successful 15 year no urping pact. Fifteen years. My fear and apprehension at the prospect of it actually seemed to create an anti-tummy monster force field that kept me safe for a really long time.

Even prior to the pact, I didn't urp very often. The first time I recall, I was only about three or four. I was in my grandparent's den one evening, looking super cute in my pink footy jammies. My grandmother had made strawberry milkshakes. One minute I am looking like a cuddly little piglet sucking down the pink yummyness in my glass, the next minute my grandmother is rushing me into the bathroom. I looked like one of those garden statue cherubs that arcs water into the basin below. Luckily, I made it all look damn cute in those jams.

This was taken a year or two before my water feature performance in the bathroom. By then, I am assuming I was wearing my brother's hand me down pink footy pajamas. What?

Even though I remember every time I was forced to reacquaint myself with something I had previously swallowed, I won't recount. Suffice to say everything changed on Tuesday night. Just before midnight my body went towards the light, the light at the bottom of my stomach.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think my body meant to fail me and wipe out our decade and a half run. The stomach flu is sort of a non-negotiable - it's happening.

I tried to pretend it wasn't happening though. I started out with my nightly routine and put myself to bed. That wasn't working, so I got up and cleaned my kitchen. Symptoms quickly progressed and left me hanging out in the bathroom, so I shaved my legs. You know, all the things you do to avoid being labeled "hairy" and "dirty" by the paramedics who rescue you half-dead off your bathroom floor.

And then it happened. While not at all pleasant, it wasn't nearly as awful as I thought it was going to be. I was also surprised at how much better I felt afterwards. Thankfully, the wave of green moved through quickly. And while I don't at all aspire to Pukey Pukerton status, I do have to own that all the times I dreaded it over the last fifteen years were probably more uncomfortable than what actually happened in my bathroom, after I shaved my legs on Tuesday night.

I also didn't end up having to call 9-1-1, and I could see my clean kitchen from the bed yesterday while I sucked down ice chips.

Now once the fever and achy chills pass me by, I will be back to my old....well...something.

Chiquita Bonita Cheezits

The Mexicans don't have a cracker, and I don't mean Larry the Cable Guy's comedy tour hasn't come to Tijuana yet. They know their way around a tortilla like nobody's business, but in their rich and flavorful Con Queso culture, how can you completely void out the cracker? Answer: You can't. It's disturbing and unacceptable.

I have decided to help. Really roll up my poncho flaps, tip back my somebrero, and remedy this problem la raza has.

I give you the Chiquita Bonita Cheezit. Named for the lovely lady who received the maiden batch, they are the offically unofficial cracker of la raza. You can muchas gracias me later amigos.


The original inspiration was a food basket I was putting together to give as a secret Santa gift. The finale present had to be homemade, and I knew my SS giftee's fave cocktail is a margarita. I decided to deconstruct some of the flavors of a margarita for the basket. On my quest for yummies in that theme, I decided on a cheese straw recipe that I thought would lend itself pretty well to some traditional Mexican spices, like cumin and chili.

The recipe is pretty simple and only took me a few minutes to put together. Once I had the dough made (and chilled briefly), I simply rolled it out nice and thin and then rectangled it off with a pizza cutter. Making smaller rectangles after that, then three pokes to each with a small fork, and a nudge onto the baking sheet is all that was left to do.

(I don't think I have to remind you that I take awful photos...)

Too hip to be square

They brown up (not a Mexican joke, haters) nice and flaky and in just enough time for you to get a pitcher of Margaritas together. Fiesta time (or siesta time, depending on how many of those Ritas you are going to be downing)!

The mustard and cheddar team up for a really nice little sharpness to the flavor, while the chipotle adds just enough heat to remind you that you've gone south of the border baby!

Try them. You will never go back to boring old Cheezits again.

Just add queso - bonita!

Chiquita Bonita Cheezits TM
adapted from the Lottie + Doof blog's Cheese Straw recipe

* 1 2/3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
* 1 tablespoon of yellow mustard
* 1 teaspoon kosher salt
* 1/4 teaspoon chipotle chili powder (or more, to taste)
* 1/4 teaspoon cumin
* 1/2 pound extra-sharp Cheddar cheese, coarsely grated (2 1/2 cups)
* 1 stick (4 ounces) unsalted butter, at room temperature
* 2 tablespoons water


Sift the flour, cumin, salt and chipotle chili powder into a medium bowl. Using an electric mixer, beat the cheese, mustard, and butter on low speed until well blended. Gradually beat in the flour until completely incorporated. Add the water and beat for 1 minute.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead 5 times. On a large sheet of wax paper, roll the dough into a 12-by-9-inch rectangle. Slide the dough onto a cookie sheet and refrigerate until chilled, about 15 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 400°. Cut the dough in half crosswise, then cut it into 1 1/2 -by- 1/2 -inch strips (this doesn't have to be perfect). Take a small fork and poke tops of each 2 or 3 times.

Transfer the strips to 2 cookie sheets. Bake 1 sheet at a time for about 10-12 minutes, or until the CBC's are golden brown (especially on the bottom) and crisp. Let cool slightly, then transfer to a rack to cool completely.

Like A Guerrilla Rebel Force

Last week I picked up a magazine and read an article about a project called Global Colors - lurv it!

Founded by a philanthropist hottie man named Barton Brooks who "thought it would be better to go out and try to make a difference, rather than complain about things that weren't being done."

Guerrilla Aid

Their mission is to aid in the development of grassroots campaigns using local ingenuity and resources to accomplish very specific goals. Their projects are geared towards creating immediate change - while teaching individuals, families, and travelers how to do the same in their own back yard or across the globe.

This Barton Brooks knows how to take it to the streets (all over the world!) and get shit done - lurv it!

Can't make it to Batwa this week and too booked up for Senegal all of next? That's okay -- there is an off-shoot of GC called Guerrilla Aid. That's right, an opportunity to pay it forward right here in your own backyard. There are 52 weeks this year to change the world and you can be a part of it!



Brooks says:

Guerrilla Aid isn't about me and this expedition - it's about everyone just doing something to help someone else... Call it random acts of kindness, a project, or call it volunteerism, but just go and do it!

I'd love to hear stories about what "Guerrilla Aid" you are doing at home... Send me an email or video and I'll post it on the website to help give other people ideas of what they can do at home.. For example if you're a hairdresser - you could donate every Friday from 3-5 for free haircuts... It's as easy as that...

Now c'mon send me some examples of what you think Guerrilla Aid is for you!

Well I know I for sure want to make BB proud, so I am already on my way to brainstorming ways I can help out.

Starting the year on a sweet note, myself and a few lovely ladies in my family are going to bake once a month and donate it to a local soup kitchen. There will be more to come and I look forward to sharing it with you all.

Now it's your turn; what have you got up those spirit of helping sleeves?


Note: If Chanukah, Christmas, Kwanzaa and New Year's didn't provide you with enough of a retail therapy fix, how about one of Global Colors wish bead bracelets? Minimum donation to receive one is minimal. It may not be your birthday, but prepared to make a wish just the same! - Check it yo!

Evolution

Exboyfriend's face hidden to protect anonymity; it was a bad breakup.

Thirty five years, seventeen hours, and twenty one minutes of it right there for you to see. It wasn't even that difficult to tell you the truth.

You can ask yourself where you went wrong, but it would most probably just make you feel crappy about yourself. The simple truth is that some people are just genetically engineered by a God who plays favorites, to be superior. That's the reality people.

Did You See The Size Of That Yule Log?!

This was originally posted last December, but you should read it because it was the last time I was funny. Take a look back and have a joyous Noelle!

There are so many reasons I love this photo, that I am going to have to make a little list here to cover them all.

1. Okay, let's start at the start: Flashing is just classic! Kudos to all who can go out there and get bare. You really can't go wrong. Any reaction is going to be the right one. Mission Accomplished. Every time. We salute you.

2. Check out Mom on the right. Awesome Reflexes. Looks like she just did an insta-swoop move to not only lean the child away from said yule log, [think Robin Williams stand up here when he is impersonating Adam cautioning Eve on the occasion of the first erection, "Stand back, we don't know how big this thing is going to get!"] but she also got those eyes covered damn quick too. I have heard of ovarian acts of heroism from mothers, but this one is stellar. Good job Mom! No therapy necessary in the future for little Billy on that one. Whew!

3. Now let's move to the left. These two make me both sad and furious at the same time. Shame be upon them for their reaction to this special moment. Seriously, what the hell party people?! Two adults. One flasher. This guy just gave you the gift of spontaneity and you are blowing it [Poor choice of words perhaps; let's not blow anything.] And finally, let me just dust off my feminist hat here and slap it on...Homeslice is not actually covering her eyes for her is he?! Oh no he deh-ent! That's a bunch of crap. Let me underscore my point with a quote from the great Pretty Woman, "I say who, I say when, I say who!" Get your damn hands off her eyes! Street berries and dangle should always be in the safe viewing zone. Relax buddy, it ain't like she paid for it.

4. Center stage is that kid on the bike who looks like he is late for an audition of A Christmas Carol with that red hair, hat, and wreath or whatever slung over his shoulder. He is going to have a great story to tell the Greater Metro Gay Men's Choir when he gets there!

I am going to start praying to Santa today that this season be as blessed as this for me and all those I love.

Happy Holidays Everyone!

That's One Kick-ass Compliment!

Racism Is Always Unacceptable...

Stereotyping though? That's coolio. Have at it.

Let's start with the stoopid dolt of a road crew dude. Of course he has to be Caucasian. Why, you ask? Because that is the only group of people who are racist. Everyone knows this.

That pretty much explains why Betty Crocker back there is yucking it up at his antics. When she isn't throwing burritos at Mexicans, or making weave jokes to the Black women in the office, she is laughing her ass off at just how funny Eber is.

Really now, isn't he funny? Such a comedic innovator. Who would have ever thought to mock eye shape. Very sharp, that guy.

And then we have our Miss Oppressed right there, front and center. A chop stick using, rice eating Asian. Nice. You can tell they are serious about championing her plight by the sheer in-your-face way in which they undermined the whole scenario with the stereotyping.

Lame.

If employees really need posters like this one in the workplace, to guide them about what is an act of racism, and what isn't, then perhaps Obama doesn't need to work on that 10.2% unemployment rate as much as we thought.

It may just be Darwinian office weeding at it's best.

Fritter

I wish I had a lime green glittered out, street-legal bumper car. How sweet would that be?! Low but not slow baby!

Can you ask for that kind of stuff for Chanukah? If so, I'm in!

Bless Mahself!

Even though I am not longer a practicing Catholic, I was raised pretty devoutly and some of the traditions I still like.

One of them is the little dainty finger dip you take in the holiest of holy water on your way in and out of the church. Then you make the sign of the cross with those newly Holy Spirit empowered finger tips, touching yourself right there in church! Oh blessed be!

Do other Christians do this? Being Catholic is far superior as you all know, so no time was ever wasted studying other "faiths".

Anywho, I haven't done this little ritual in years, because as I mentioned, I....ugh...well...am not really a Catholic anymore [insert Catholic guilt here].

Well all of that is going to change! Well, not really. I am still headed to hell for not being in church every week and sucking down communion wafers, but I can bless myself at home now!

One for every room in the house - OCCD, here I come!

These are from Italy! Hand painted! Aren't they beautiful?! In fact, but not really, I read in a real fake article somewhere that Jesus wanted to be Italian, but his dad told him he had to be a Joo. You know the rest of that story. Rough stuff. I wonder if he had a stylist when he got here though, because he looks pretty Italian.

Now, I need to find holy water....


For complete product information, please click here

Xerox Is Doing The Heavy Thanks Lifting For You

Xerox is extending this awesome way for all of us to thank the troops again this holiday season! Simply pick out a card, add a greeting, and they do the rest by printing your card and sending it to a deployed service member. How coolio is that?! And is there any better time to reach out than the eve of our national day of Thanks? Yeah, I didn't think so either.

As I sit here musing about how many people across our great land yack every Turkey Day from not pushing away from the dinner plate soon enough, I want to take this opportunity to wish you all a very happy and safe Thanksgiving!

I'll let you go now, so you can hop on the Xerox site and thank a brave Soldier serving over this holiday season.

Bourbon: Not just a breakfast drink anymore

I am having so much fun using bourbon in the kitchen! I follow a bunch of different food blogs, and bourbon just seems to be popping up more and more in their recipes.

Bourbon, like Bruce Springsteen and Velveeta, is made in the USA. Named for the Bourbon county region of Kentucky, this amber colored love is made primarily of corn and has been around since the 1700s.

You might remember the Bad-ass Bourbon Banana bread I made a few weeks ago...well there's more!

How about Bourbon Cranberry sauce? If that doesn't float your Thanksgiving gravy boat, I don't rightly know what will! And you don't have to wait for Turkey day or even turkey to enjoy this dish. I am going to be serving it as an appetizer this weekend, spooned over a brick of cream cheese with mini toasts on the side. Oh yeah - you know that is going to be all about the yum!

Need a helping hand this Thanksgiving to get through another one of Aunt Myrtle's agonizing old folk's home bingo tourney blow-by-blows? How about bliss-buzzing out while she drones with a nice fat wedge of Bourbon Pumpkin Cheesecake?

"But Daniella" you say, "what in the french toast am I going to do for the rest of the year when my bourbon hankering is-a-ragin? My friend, you will wait for the summer sun to kiss those peaches, and then you will commence the making of Bourbon Peach Hand Pies

Perhaps you have signed a contractual agreement with the devil to be on Atkins for the next 10 years, so you are trembling in fear by now that all of this carby bourbon fun is going to pass you by. Well, it is, and you should be crapping meatballs over that travesty! Everyone knows that cutting out carbohydrates entirely is the first level of hell. I am sad for you. However, you can ease some of your misery by adding some vitamin bourbon to your beef with this recipe for Beef Tenderloin with Bourbon.

I think bourbon might just be one of my new heroes!

Up Yours!

I have had ringing ears and mild dizzyness for about 10 years now. Usually more pronounced on my right side, chronic nasal drip [that is an equally sufficient description of my personality for my Match.com profile too, by the way] my Eustachian tubes swell up and trap fluid, causing on the ear canal chaos. It's as fun as it sounds.

Now all the rage is for Neti pots. The Ayurvedic idea behind the Neti is that regular saline irrigation of the nasal passages is the key to new cars, fur coats, mad cash, and taco flavored kisses. Sometimes it doesn't do all that and you just end up with less allergy and sinus symptoms.

I figured even without the taco flavored kisses, I could still use calmer booger troughs, so I bought one a couple of days ago.

I have two day of happy Neti-ing under my nose and I am really getting into it. It's a pretty simple routine. You want mildly warm, not nasty water [ie, if your tap shoots out chlorinated chemical soup -- go bottled]. Most of the pots seem to call for about 1/4 of a teaspoon of noniodized table salt. Mix those two up, and you are ready to Neti!

It's quite the efficient apparatus, if I do say so myself. The shape of the spout creates a nice little seal in your standard issue nostril, and just moves the warm saline water right on through. For shoving something up your nose, you really do walk away feeling pretty refreshed.

If you don't thumbs up yourself while doing it, like the guy in the photo, you for sure won't be getting the mad cash and fur - just so you know.

Your Dirty Lies Are Starving My Dog!

I've got some liars in my life. Now don't get me wrong, I know we all lie - myself included. None of us are really exempt from those occasional "oh, I wish I could but I have to wash my hair and get a liver transplant that day" moments.

I am talking more about the giant, chronic, drama queen, ass-face liar. They use their lies more than they tell the truth. In fact, their tale spinning is second nature to them and they pretty much believe they are hiding well behind the camouflage of it.

I got a call recently from a pretty accomplished liar I know. As soon as I answer the phone my ear is under attack as the rapid-fire Armageddon victim story unfolds. One horrific occurrence after another has allegedly befallen this poor person.


It goes something like this:

"Okay, you're never going to believe this...I was superglued to the toilet by Somali pirates in the wee hours of the morning. They left me there in my own bathroom for dead! In my last-ditch effort to save myself, I managed to bite down on the toilet roll hanger bar and tear my butt cheeks from the toilet.

Once the massive bleeding subsided a little, I went outside to throw the toilet seat away (everyone knows that ass skin sticks like a mothersmucker to those seats, so I didn't doubt this part of the story) and I was attacked by a troop of ground squirrels. I guess they had been waiting for me on the side of the house, because as soon as I rounded the corner, they launched right at me! Before I could do anything, they had me face down and wrist cuffed with one of those zip ties. Then they sodomized me with a Star Wars toy light Saber they claim they found in the neighbor's recycling bin. They weren't gentle. And If you have ever heard a ground squirrel snicker....it was evil.

They left me face down ass in the air, but were kind enough to chew through the zip tie before they took off. I managed to get to my feet. I staggered back in the house and my cell phone was beeping with a voice mail. Apparently I had missed a call during my anal invasion. It was my boss. I got fired. Apparently he didn't believe me yesterday when I called in and tried to explain to him that I was having trouble getting to work because this chimp had chewed off my thumbs in the 7/11 parking lot the night before. Have you ever tried to start your car without your thumbs?! I was only asking for a little time to get transplants, but I guess he didn't want to deal with me. People with disabilities are so often discriminated against, ya know?

Anyway, as soon as I hung up the phone, the doorbell rang. When I answered it, some ski-masked punk threw a flaming bag of dog shit into the house, and it slid right across the hardwood into the living room. I limp-scurried my sore ass over to it to stomp out the flames, and I fishtailed in dog shit, fell, and broke my right hip. The fire spread and I only managed to save myself - the house and all of my worldly possessions inside, are gone.

When I got to the hospital the doctor examined me before the hip x-ray. Bad news -- they found this giant mole under my left nut that they think is malignant Melanoma. So I am probably going to die which is why I am canceling our plans at the last minute like this. Sorry."

Yeah, you're right -- I don't believe you.

I did however get pretty distracted by the whole pile of bullshit slung at me over the phone lines. So distracted in fact, that I forgot I was in the middle of feeding The Ru when I answered the phone. I didn't remember this for three hours after the call ended. Three whole hours. My dog could have died of starvation. There is no better reason than that to always abide by the Honesty Is Always The Best Policy rule.

The truth would have taken a fraction of the time.

It goes something like this:

"Hi there - I'm a fucking tool. I am calling to cancel last minute on our plans for today. I don't have a good reason, I just don't like planning. Flaking teaches everyone not to engage in scheduling things with me in the future. Sorry. And I say sorry because I know that is just one of those things I am supposed to say. I don't actually give a shit or I wouldn't be such a tool in the first place."

So much easier, right? And I would have had the brain power to feed my poor pooch afterward.

"Doll" Dungeon

Adults do creepy shit to kids all the time. It's a horrible, heartbreaking, damaging reality. I have lived through some of it.

That's right, I come to you now as an adult who carries a very traumatized little kid inside. But then again, by now you have probably already guessed this Crazytown 'n down action ain't coming from a well-adjusted place.

Like any other trauma survivor, often times different things will spark flashbacks of my original horror. These snippets of the past are rough my friends. They strike almost as much dread in my heart as the time I dreamt that aliens stole all of the planet's dougnuts. Yeah, that scary.

And you never know when they are going to strike, these flashbacks. One got me out of the blue just a couple of days ago.

I was checking out this design blog, when I unwittingly scrolled down into a picture that took me right back to a dark place in my childhood.I was five all over again. Lying as still as I could in my narrow little metal framed twin bed. Trying not to twitch and call their attention to me. All of them there surrounding the perimeter of the room. Surrounding me. So many eyes fixed upon me in that dark room. Always watching. Never blinking. Waiting. Always.

My maternal grandmother was my torturer. Unlike the picture shown here where the little freaks are nailed to the wall, she had her miniature porcelain minions in eight foot tall glass cases around the room. It was at her hand I was forced to endure the night with them.

Would they break the glass and stab me in the neck with a spork stolen from the kitchen junk drawer? If I accidentally fell asleep, was I going to wake to their little cold dead hands wrapped around my neck? Or maybe they were just going to start whispering horrible things to me like, "You will never get a chance to ride Papa's go-kart" or "You are too retarded to use an etch-a-sketch" until I went insane?

Night after night, I would focus on my survival. Each dawn bringing another chance to get out of this nightmare alive. Just needed to make it through one more night.

Eventually I was able to escape that hell, and after decades of therapy as an adult, I became strong enough to confront my g-ma. I did this on the one condition that they stayed in the other room. She claims that she had no idea that the "Doll Room" (nice syrupy sweet name right? They always try to sugar coat their shit.) as she called it, would be scary for me to sleep in.

Of course this was an outright lie. How could she not know? After all, she had been the one to hand pick all of them. You could tell they were chosen specifically for their powers of fear and intimidation. And she was the one to line them up into battalion formation in their glass barracks once they enlisted with her. Oh, she knew.

I didn't really expect her to own up to the abuse anyway. In fact, she had the nerve to laugh off my confrontation. In the end, all she would say is that she loved me and that she thought I considered it a real treat to spend the night in the Doll Room. When I mentioned other victims such as my brother and other cousins close in age, she just dismissed me again, stating that she was sure they had enjoyed staying in her Dungeon Room as well (I call it like it is people.) as I was the only one complaining about it.

I wasn't complaining anyway - I was speaking out. If finding my voice about this issue helps even one other child out there, then all of my work to get better has not been in vain.

This is some sick shit people! If you know of an adult who is making a poor defenseless child sleep with tiny replicas of dead babies, or "dolls" as the abuser will often call them -- speak out!

We can't just stand by and allow this to keep happening. The next generation is depending on us.

11/11

It's Veteran's Day -- "happy" doesn't sound quite right to put with those words. I think these are much better:

“It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us freedom of the press. It is the soldier not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who has given us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier, who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protester to burn the flag.”
~ Rev. Denis Edward O’Brien from the US Marine Corps

Thank you to all of the brave men and women, past and present, who have answered the call and served our nation.

The Corps Is 234! (that rhymes party people)

Happy Birthday to the United States Marine Corps! Oorah! I don't think two hundred and thirty four has ever looked more stellar!

Since learning more about the Marines after starting OAP, I will admit I have had a little bit of a crush. The discipline, the rugged Leatherneckedness, the uniform, it just all works for me. I have also had the honor to get to know a few Marines OAP reached out to during their deployments, and they were each and every one some pretty special people.

What's that, you want to know more? Well, let's start at the start, shall we?

Brief Wikipedian History Lesson:The United States Marine Corps (USMC) is a branch of the United States armed forces responsible for providing force projection from the sea, using the mobility of the United States Navy to rapidly deliver combined-arms task forces. It is one of seven uniformed services of the United States. In the civilian leadership structure of the United States military, the Marine Corps is a component of the Department of the Navy, often working closely with U.S. naval forces for training, transportation and logistic purposes; however, in the military leadership structure the Marine Corps is a separate branch.

Captain Samuel Nicholas formed two battalions of Continental Marines on 10 November 1775 in Philadelphia as naval infantry. Since then, the mission of Marine Corps has evolved with changing military doctrine and American foreign policy. The Marine Corps served in every American armed conflict and attained prominence in the 20th century when its theories and practices of amphibious warfare proved prescient and ultimately formed the cornerstone of the Pacific campaign of World War II. By the mid-20th century, the Marine Corps had become the dominant theorist and practitioner of amphibious warfare. Its ability to respond rapidly to regional crises gives it a strong role in the implementation and execution of American foreign policy.

The United States Marine Corps includes just over 203,000 (as of October 2009) active duty Marines and just under 40,000 reserve Marines. It is the smallest of the United States' armed forces in the Department of Defense (the United States Coast Guard is smaller, about one-fifth the size of the Marine Corps, but is under the Department of Homeland Security). The Marine Corps is nonetheless larger than the entire armed forces of many significant military powers; for example, it is larger than the active duty Israel Defense Forces or the whole of the British Army.

The Marine Corps is highly cost-effective. The cost per Marine is $20,000 less than the cost of a serviceman from the other services, and the entire force can be used for both hybrid and major combat operations, that is, the Marines cover the entire Three Block War.

I love military uniforms. The elegance and pageantry of them is not only inspiring but also a rather traditionally feminine trait of such a traditionally masculine field.

Remember earlier in the post how I mentioned getting to know a few Marines personally? Well one of my favorite memories on that subject is about Gunnery Sergeant Moncibais. He was only with us for a month or two when I put out an email to him and few others requesting a group Marine photo to gift to a very special donor we have who is a retired Marine. He literally rallied the troops and organized this this wonderful photo!

Boy did we have one happy Marine birthday boy when he received this framed photo with a note from GySgt. Moncibais. I have heard that this gift ended up in a place of honor in the middle of his "Marine Wall"

He and his Marines went out of their way [even made the nifty birthday sign, yo!] to do this when all along we were supposed to be helping them. A perfect example of a Marine's discipline of service.

And a colorful people too, those marines are. Their vernacular is one of my faves. Some of my favorite Marine sayings, or as I like to refer to them, truisms:

Semper Fidelis (Latin, meaning Always Faithful)
Marine Sniper -- Visualize World Peace
USMC IS Part Of The Navy -- The Men's Department
Pain Is Weakness Leaving The Body
Heaven Won't Take Us and Hell Is Afraid We'll Take Over
Death smiles at everyone. The Marines smile back.

Speaking of colorful, there have been a few memorable quotes about the Marines throughout history:

"Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference. The Marines don't have that problem." -Ronald Reagan

"I come in peace, I didn't bring artillery. But I am pleading with you with tears in my eyes: If you fuck with me, I'll kill you all." -Marine General James Mattis, to Iraqi tribal leaders

"I want you boys to hurry up and whip these Germans so we can get out to the Pacific to kick the s**t out of the purple-pissing Japanese, before the Godda**ed MARINES get all the credit!" -Lt General George Patton, US Army 1945

Books about the Marines I have really enjoyed:

Jarhead by Anthony Swofford

Shooter: The Autobiography Of The Top-Ranked Marine Sniper by Sgt. Jack Coughlin and Capt Casey Kuhlman

Making the Corps by Thomas Ricks

Are you one of those "movies are better than books" people? Fine then...

A Few Good Men - if you have never heard of it then I am speechless, and quite frankly, disappointed.

Jarhead - based on the book by the same name. Very well done account of one Marine's experience during the Gulf War. Added bonus -- it stars the yummy Jake Gyllenhaal and Jamie Foxx

Making the Corps - documentary series done by the Discovery channel that takes you from the disorientatingly dark parking lot bus drop off at Parris Island Recruit Depot to graduation day. There is a serious amount of ass-kicking training in between.

I will wrap it up here. I hope this posts inspires you to learn more about our military. Where would we be without all they do for our nation?!

Happy Birthday to corps - all you guys and gals out there who have done so much to protect and serve us all! Oorah!

M O W

You know that stoopid (I like to spell it that way) saying "food is love"? Well, I think I have just caught myself spoon-handed trying to love up on people with stuff from my kitchen.

I do it because it makes me feel good. Big surprise that their is a personal payoff in my motivations huh. Luckily, this particular loverly thing usually makes other people feel good too (big sigh of relief from everyone who endured my crank calling and pantsing phases). And it's fun. If I only had me, myself, and I with which to share all the things I want to cook, we would be wasting some serious amounts of food. That doesn't go over too well in my psyche.

So out of all these things, my mini-scale Meals On Wheels was born.

Last week I made these.

Next up on the roster before Turkey day hits, are these.

I don't just bake mind you; and good thing because I am fairly craptacular when it comes to all things flour, eggs and butter. Most cookies I can pull off while steering clear of complete disaster though. They also tend to be pretty MOW friendly for traveling.

MOW menu dinner items extend to things like a completely cooked pasta dinner with homemade sauce and spicy Italian sausages to a friend. Or Salmon Wellington with a side of rice and breaded zucchini spears.

Pretty soon here I want to add rice and tomato sauce to my Sicilian meatball recipe and stuff it in bell peppers. Will be leaving two of those on someone's porch like abandoned twins at the back door of a church. Just heat and eat! - The peppers of course, not the twins in my analogy. NOT advocating that you warm children in your oven and then eat them. I want to be clear about that because the government is watching me. I already have to wear a special helmet to block out the GAMA rays they have aimed at me. I don't want to have to tin foil my windows too.

Anywho, feeling a little hungry over here. Not sure what to eat... NOT those twins - I know that much! Okay -- we are clear on that then. Good.

An Evening In Small Bites

A friend came over for dinner last night and I didn't want to be distracted by the chaos I can sometimes impose on myself in the kitchen. The last minute little detail things always seem to catch up to me, well...at the last minute. Then I find myself scrambling around trying to juggle several dishes and get hot yummy food on the table, not crap burnt food all while feigning attention to the conversation.

I also currently don't have any kitchen chairs. It's a long furniture swapping story that involves my brother - and my kitchen chairs.

So in planning a little menu for my very special friend, I took all of these things into consideration and came up with a coffee table appetizer picnic of sorts. My master plan would not only cover the "yummy food" base, it would also give me a chance to prep most of the plates ahead of time, to lounge on the couch munching and chatting.

I mean seriously, I should probably be ashamed to even post these pics. The excitement over talking about the food has blurred my sense of dignity and decency I tell you! So, keeping in mind that I am a craptacular photographer,(oddly enough my skills and magic don't get any better after a glass of Chardonnay and the food being seriously picked over) let's take a photo food journey from last night, shall we? Alrighty, let's get started....



In the bottom right corner there is a sneak peek at Peppers Agrodolce. The literal translation being sour/sweet, Agrodolce is a Sicilian method of reducing sweet and sour elements in cooking. Traditionally this is a combination of vinegar and sugar. It's believed that the Arabs originally introduced this cuisine style to Sicilians.

This was a new recipe for me actually. I was able to cook it ahead of time and serve it chilled. The little balancing act the sweet and sour do on bell peppers and onion is pretty damn tasty. I think Agrodolce will have to go on my repeat hit list.

Next up, above that is the postively decrepit little remains of the cheese board yummyness. I just sliced some Fontina cheese and a Mozzarella/Prosciutto log and paired it with some pepperoncini and sea salt pita chips. Amongst the dwindling carnage is a representative of each though.

Beyond that you will see a blue fish head deadpanning just out of reach of full photo recognition. That my friends was some of the tastiest smoked salmon I have had in a while. Smoky and fresh smelling, very tender - I could have made a meal of just that platter once I got started on it. I simply flaked it off of the main piece I bought, sprinkled it with some cracked black pepper, flanked it with some lemon wedges and bread cubes, and set out a little cream cheese along side of it.

On the right in the white oblong platter is what I like to call our little ballish baker's dozen. The top half of the platter is Arancini. Another Sicilian treat, Arancini were the original invention born of the necessity to use up left over risotto. There are many variations on the recipe, but you are basically talking about a rice ball covered in breadcrumbs that has a little chuck of Fontina cheese nestled in the middle. You then fry these bad boys and sit back and pop them in your bocca. Tasty, tasty!

After telling you all of that, let me say that I did not make these Arancini. I found them at the store and was pleasantly surprised at how good they were. Since I don't understand the concept of leftover risotto, nor do I like to get my hands egged and breadcrumbed, I will gladly buy these again.

Sharing the platter are Sicilian mini meatballs. I Frankensteined these myself a few months ago by blending three different recipes I liked for different elements they contained. I have made them twice now and I am pretty happy with them.



Last but not least are the butternut squash ravioli in that greenish/gray plate there. My stepmom made the ravs and I had a couple dozen of them in the freezer. I looked up a brown butter Sage sauce to go with them. It had a great blend of Fall spices to compliment the squash. The richness of the butter went so well with the warmth and sweet of the rav filling - absolutely fabuloso!

Oops - I almost forgot the olives! See that little green bowl with the varied color bumps peeking out at you back there? Those are orange scented greek olives. They were super simple but so worth the extra step. I simply took a container of prepared Greek olive medley, drained them, zested the orange over them, added half the juice and a splash of olive oil. You will get the most out of this trip to flavor town if you do this to your olives the day before you plan to enjoy them and then pop them in the fridge. The next day be sure and set them out at least an hour before you serve. Orange you glad I remembered to tell you all of that?....Sorry.

My food coma flooded my senses towards the end of the evening and I didn't even remember to take a picture of our dessert. I made a Bourbon Banana bread, cubed it, and then kissed the bottom half of each piece in semi-sweet chocolate. Always nice to end the evening with a little kiss, right?

Recipes, anyone?


For Peppers Agrodolce from the Julia Child of Sicily (Eleonora Consoli) you can click here

There are quite a few recipes for Arancini. Here is one to get you started.

Click here for the Maple Sage butter sauce I used on the ravs.

Below is my recipe for the Sicilian mini meatballs (neck bolts not included)

Meatballs are a universal dish, but are more popular in some areas than others. In Italy, for example, they're more common in the south than the north. These grilled meatballs are a delicious Sicilian specialty. To serve 6, you'll need:
Prep Time: 30 minutes
Cook Time: 20 minutes
Ingredients:

* 2 1/4 pounds (1 k) ground pork or veal
* 5 ounces (125 g) ground pecorino, ideally the Sicilian variety that's made with peppercorns
* 1 cup bread crumbs, soaked 3 minutes in milk and the excess squeezed out (it should be loose and in small pieces)
* 3 eggs
* 2 tablespoons minced parsley
* 1 clove garlic, minced
* 1 teaspoon allspice
* pinch of crushed red pepper
* Salt and freshly ground pepper
* Currants
* Optional: grated lemon zest, or lemon or orange juice
* Optional: ricotta

Preparation:
In a large bowl, combine all the ingredients except for the currants and breadcrumbs. Squeeze out excess milk from the soaking bread (it should be loose and in small pieces) then add it to the meat mixture and mix everything with your hands to combine. Then form slightly flattened meatballs, roll into mini balls - 1 1/2 inches across - placing one or two currants in the center of each. Arrange on a nonstick cookie sheet. Bake at 400 degree F for 10 to 12 minutes or until firm and lightly golden.

The Bourbon Banana bread is from the Smitten Kitchen blog and you can get that recipe here (chocolate kiss dip not included -- that's a Daniellaland original variation right there folks!)


I hope you enjoyed the trip around my coffee table!