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I saw the plum tree's leaves as red as fresh blood
And now it's raining, in a particularly thin, bitter, wintry way: as if to impress on all the Black Friday shoppers that there is absolutely nothing to be thankful for, especially the Christmas rush. The front of our house is plastered with winter moths, which it has been for the last three or four weeks; they flurry inside every time someone opens a door, after which they turn up in corners of the bathroom, stuck to the baseboards, patiently buffeting up against the white and blue and red LEDs of Orion. The lawn is still green, but the trees are leafless, blackly wet against the unraveling sky. The greyness of the clouds makes even the old fallen leaves look oddly dense with color, hammered down chestnut-colored over uneven turf; dry, day-lit, they will merely look leftover.
Below the cut are some photographs from yesterday, mostly of the mango pomegranate guacamole, which I decided to make after all. For those people within applicable geographic range, I can probably be induced to do so again.
The avocados for the guacamole, shortly after their sticky demise.
The mango and the pomegranate met similar fates.
Also the cilantro, the white onion, and the serrano chiles.
Their loss, art's gain.
And it tasted good with blue potato chips, too.
I have no idea what precisely was going on in this picture. It doesn't help that there's a perspective problem—some pot stacked on the raised end of the island is blocking the action. It was definitely something to do with the Zwiebelkuchen.
Across the island from me, Randi showed off her mad apple-peeling skills.
Somewhere in the world, there is a picture of me in which I do not have red-eye. My brother looks his usual photogenic self. My father appears dubious of multiple forks.
This is their first married Thanksgiving.
Pumpkin flan.
In which my brother demonstrates that our ancient cow-headed oven mitt is, in fact, kind of frightening.
I like this one of my mother. She does not think she looks particularly awake.
But she likes this one of me, and I think I look one neuron short of brain death, so there you go.
Below the cut are some photographs from yesterday, mostly of the mango pomegranate guacamole, which I decided to make after all. For those people within applicable geographic range, I can probably be induced to do so again.
The avocados for the guacamole, shortly after their sticky demise.
The mango and the pomegranate met similar fates.
Also the cilantro, the white onion, and the serrano chiles.
Their loss, art's gain.
And it tasted good with blue potato chips, too.
I have no idea what precisely was going on in this picture. It doesn't help that there's a perspective problem—some pot stacked on the raised end of the island is blocking the action. It was definitely something to do with the Zwiebelkuchen.
Across the island from me, Randi showed off her mad apple-peeling skills.
Somewhere in the world, there is a picture of me in which I do not have red-eye. My brother looks his usual photogenic self. My father appears dubious of multiple forks.
This is their first married Thanksgiving.
Pumpkin flan.
In which my brother demonstrates that our ancient cow-headed oven mitt is, in fact, kind of frightening.
I like this one of my mother. She does not think she looks particularly awake.
But she likes this one of me, and I think I look one neuron short of brain death, so there you go.
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Also, I very much like the one with you with the piece of cheesecloth in your hand.
And what was everyone's verdict on the guacamole, which I do still wish I could try (maybe you can share your recipe?)
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(It's a good proverb.) I shall tell her!
Also, I very much like the one with you with the piece of cheesecloth in your hand.
Thank you. I think I was cleaning the countertop before I floured it.
And what was everyone's verdict on the guacamole, which I do still wish I could try (maybe you can share your recipe?)
The verdict was fatal; it was consumed. The recipe is more or less the one that appeared in last November's Gourmet, to the tune of: take four avocados, scoop clean and mash to your desired guacamole texture. Add four finely chopped white pearl onions, one and a half finely chopped serrano chiles, and a quarter-cup lime juice. Stir until blended, then add the diced flesh of one mango, three-quarters of the seeds of a pomegranate, and half a cup chopped cilantro. Stir until it looks like guacamole; find some form of starch to serve it on; you may wish to warn people about the pomegranate seeds, but I just found they added crunch. Enjoy!
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Snow cilantro!
And I did at least remember the vital pomegranate.
So, I will let you know how it turns out... it will not have quite the authentic taste, but it will be a variation on the theme.
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(But I want to try it again, with lime)
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Thank you. I'll tell her.
And that guac looks yummy.
I wrote
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They were very tasty, too!
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The guacamole sounds and looks brilliant, and are those home-made blue potato chips, or simply more interesting-looking ones than the commercial varieties I've had?
Hurrah for pumpkin flan!
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I'll tell her!
The guacamole sounds and looks brilliant, and are those home-made blue potato chips, or simply more interesting-looking ones than the commercial varieties I've had?
Alas, they are Terra Blues; I am not quite dedicated enough to make my own blue potato chips. They taste good, though.
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Thank you!
Alas, they are Terra Blues; I am not quite dedicated enough to make my own blue potato chips. They taste good, though.
Bhuel, you're so very dedicated as it is that, were you making your own blue potato chips, I, for one, would be deeply intimidated. Making simple ordinary frites is something I'm not usually dedicated enough to do.
I thought I'd remembered Terra Blues as being thinner, although perhaps that's only a trick of the light in your photograph, or perhaps the blue potato chips I've had weren't Terra ones. Glad they taste good, in any event.
a dish is worth a thousand thanks
Looks like you had one heck of a spread there. Thanks for giving the rest of us an opportunity to jealously look on.
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It was strangely therapeutic . . .
Thanks for giving the rest of us an opportunity to jealously look on.
You're welcome. I didn't even photograph the carrot beet soup.
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Thank you! I like food that is interesting to look at as well as eat.
Its nice to see everyone together, although it makes me wish I didn't live so far away.
You can be in the next set of photos.
oh yeah, and you gotta teach me how to do the "LJ cut" thingy, I never did quite figure it out.
Here. I started to type the HTML out, then realized Livejournal would invariably mistake a transfer of information for a command.
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*perfect* -- I love days like this.
And thanks for the beautiful pictures!
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You're welcome!
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I hung up the Christmas lights yesterday and loved being outside in the cold for 4h, but I'm occasionally sturdy like that, as if I'm some kind of shaggy pony.
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Thank you. I hope yours was the same.
I hung up the Christmas lights yesterday and loved being outside in the cold for 4h, but I'm occasionally sturdy like that, as if I'm some kind of shaggy pony.
I am now going to picture you in the Shetlands, with holiday lights.
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Like pebbles in a stream or the sea.
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Yikes. Perhaps you could substitute some safer fruit?
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I like cooking!
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White nose disease, colony collapse disorder -- Mother Nature is trying to take back the "Death to Flying Things" nickname from 19th century infielder Bob Ferguson. (Except it's probably people mucking up the environment that is ultimately the cause.)
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I'd been assuming it was a combination of invasive species with global warming, but your theory sounds horribly plausible. I love bats. I do not want to see them locally extinct.
(Except it's probably people mucking up the environment that is ultimately the cause.)
I'm much more in favor of nineteenth century infielders.