Merry Christmas to those of you who keep the feast; to those of you who don’t, enjoy the short lines at the movies today! Although I am by faith a profane scoffer, I enjoy a little choral music at Christmas time, old-school style. 1441 style, that is: it helps me get in the mood to cook a turkey and toast some walnuts. Here’s the King’s College choir singing The Holly and the Ivy. Continue Reading »
Archive for the 'fluff' Category
Erica at Retro Recipe Attempts has gone where no woman or man has gone since at least 1972: No-Bake Festive Fruit Cake! Even back in the day, this seems like one of those recipes that people make once, and then hope everyone else politely refrains from mentioning it ever again.
Srsly, it’s like a time machine to all of those church potluck suppers I attended back in the 1970s as a child. I swear, every single one of those hot (or cold) dishes featured either one or more of the following ingredients: 1) evaporated milk, 2) sweetened condensed milk, 3) graham crackers, 4) marischino cherries, and/or 5) Jell-o. (And that included the main-course dishes, too.)
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to create a palatable and festive dessert with as many of the same ingredients as you can use, instead of mashing everything up into a weird ball of dough the way this recipe calls for. Here’s your shopping list: Continue Reading »
Today’s post is a recipe cribbed from M.F.K. Fisher’s How to Cook a Wolf (1942), which I reviewed here a few years ago and did not love. However, this recipe stuck with me, because it seems like an ingenious way to make a cake without butter or eggs: hide the use of sub-standard fat with gingerbread spices! (And/or ganja, or as M.F.K. Fisher herself would say, “what have you.”)
Now to the recipe and its explanation:
Coffee, when it is brewed intelligently, is a perfect accompaniment to any dessert, whether it be a Soufflé au Grand Marnier, or a bowl of frost-whipped Winesap apples, crisp and juicy. It is good, too, with a piece of fruity cake, and here is a recipe for one which is foolproof to concoct, and guaranteed to make the world take at least two steps back, instead of one step nearer.
It is a remnant of the last war, and although I remember liking it so much that I dreamed about it at night. . . like all the other children who ate it, I can’t remember that it was called anything more appetizing than
1/2 cup shortening (bacon grease can be used, because of the spices which hide its taste) Continue Reading »
Tenured Radical has all of the details. What will happen when four academic bloggers meet to talk IRL and before an audience? (We’re waiting to hear if a certain invisible plane has been cleared to land in U.S. airspace.) At least we’re meeting close to Paradise Island, very close to the Bermuda Triangle.
And Madwoman with a Laptop doesn’t think I look like a cowgirl. Phoo! I say, this is what cowgirl looks like!
As a native Ohioan and currently a voter in another swing state that went for Barack Obama, I’d just like to take this opportunity to say you’re welcome.
I meant to get this post up last night, but for some reason my blog was off-line for a spell. (BTW, this is not my pumpkin-carving kit, which tends more toward the soiled yoga pants-and-crummy sweatshirt variety.) I hope you all had a safe and happy Halloween.
Now that the candy has been counted, stashed, and secretly raided by those of you with children under the age of 8, here’s my question: Continue Reading »
Sad, but true. Here’s an excerpt from the Archaeology department’s T & P committee letter to Dr. Jones (h/t Monocle Man for this one):
January 22, 1939
Assistant Professor Henry “Indiana” Jones Jr.
Department of Anthropology
Chapman Hall 227B
As chairman of the Committee on Promotion and Tenure, I regret to inform you that your recent application for tenure has been denied by a vote of 6 to 1. Following past policies and procedures, proceedings from the committee’s deliberations that were pertinent to our decision have been summarized below according to the assessment criteria.
Demonstrates suitable experience and expertise in chosen field:
The committee concurred that Dr. Jones does seem to possess a nearly superhuman breadth of linguistic knowledge and an uncanny familiarity with the history and material culture of the occult. However, his understanding and practice of archaeology gave the committee the greatest cause for alarm. Criticisms of Dr. Jones ranged from “possessing a perceptible methodological deficiency” to “practicing archaeology with a complete lack of, disregard for, and colossal ignorance of current methodology, theory, and ethics” to “unabashed grave-robbing.” Given such appraisals, perhaps it isn’t surprising to learn that several Central and South American countries recently assembled to enact legislation aimed at permanently prohibiting his entry.
Moreover, no one on the committee can identify who or what instilled Dr. Jones with the belief that an archaeologist’s tool kit should consist solely of a bullwhip and a revolver. Continue Reading »
This is September in Colorado: cool nights and warm afternoons with clear, blue skies. We’re lucky to have an heirloom apple tree in our yard, which this year is absolutely loaded with fruit. (The hot, dry summer has been perversely great for the Colorado fruit crop. This tree ain’t exactly an orchard, but it appears to share in the local bounty.) With any luck, we’ll have enough pies and applesauce to last us until the apple blossoms open next spring.
Maybe it’s due to my huge fangirl crush in the 1970s on Laura Ingalls Wilder and her Little House series, but I’ve always been inordinately charmed by “free food,” and aggressively motivated to do something with it when I find it. When I was a little girl, I loved finding those ferny weeds in people’s lawns that looked like Queen Anne’s Lace, but whose roots resembled (and tasted like) thin, pale carrots. (Maybe they were Queen Anne’s Lace? I don’t know.) I remember a scrawny clover whose lemony leaves we used to chew. My greatest childhood discovery was perhaps a patch of strawberries along a lazy spring that burbled up in the woods by my house. Continue Reading »
Has David Brooks had a stroke? Or is Joe Nocera or Gail Collins in fact the author of this piece?
Mitt grew up in a modest family. His father had an auto body shop called the American Motors Corporation, and his mother owned a small piece of land, Brazil. He had several boyhood friends, many of whom owned Nascar franchises, and excelled at school, where his fourth-grade project, “Inspiring Actuaries I Have Known,” was widely admired. Continue Reading »