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Dust off the idols, give them something to eat
It was a good Thanksgiving. We had a tsunami of relatives on Wednesday, but the last two days straight in the kitchen paid off: day before yesterday, the pumpkin tagine, the mushroom-and-spinach panade, the pumpkin-and-ginger rice pudding, and the second apple pie; yesterday, the clementine-jícama salad, the sautéed endive, escarole, and frisée, and the fruit gratin with Calvados and mascarpone. The lemon-rosemary green beans and the hazelnuts pan-fried with sage went by the wayside as either superfluous or out of time, since the turkey finished roasting a full hour ahead of schedule (when does that happen?), but I don't think they were missed. My hair did not catch fire again.1 Tristen ran round the kitchen all afternoon as I cooked and did not catch fire, either. David and his older daughter dropped by after dinner on their way back from the latest Harry Potter; Eric, Ron, and Eddy came for dessert. Today I took Tristen to the Museum of Science; he particularly seemed to like Mathematica and the Omni film about whales. On the way home, we stopped into Curious George's in Harvard Square and I bought him a book of horse myths and folktales. He was telling me a story he wants to write about a child who's a mandrake and how to get them to stop screaming. I think his grandparents are taking him to Maine tomorrow.
I am enjoying not having to speak to anyone and not having to chop anything up.
1. Which it did on Wednesday. First time in my life. I keep my hair stuffed down the back of my shirt when around a lot of open flame, but a hank slipped out as I turned away from the burners and I lost three inches before I could put it out. The burnt ends will need to be trimmed further, which still upsets me to think about. It is not a cooking practice I recommend. But it could have been so much worse, and since the tagine came out fantastically, I shall count my hair as a sort of sacrifice toward its success.
I am enjoying not having to speak to anyone and not having to chop anything up.
1. Which it did on Wednesday. First time in my life. I keep my hair stuffed down the back of my shirt when around a lot of open flame, but a hank slipped out as I turned away from the burners and I lost three inches before I could put it out. The burnt ends will need to be trimmed further, which still upsets me to think about. It is not a cooking practice I recommend. But it could have been so much worse, and since the tagine came out fantastically, I shall count my hair as a sort of sacrifice toward its success.
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There is; I got it out of Gourmet.
If you have an e-mail address, I'll send it to youNever mind, everything is already on the internet.no subject