It happened suddenly. One minute we were together, touching, my hands on his body, as close as always, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, signs of dire distress. It sounded like a heave or a deep sigh. But I heard a click in there somewhere as well. Something more than the whirl of a distant fan. I heard danger. I heard Mac’s finally gasp.
And then, after four years together, nine to ten hours a day, seven days a week, for all 52 weeks of the year – half of those trying to work, the other half simply searching together for answers – it was over.
Lately, he was the first thing I reached for in the morning after my husband, who gets up early, was gone. I pulled him off the table and woke him up from his sleep. I demanded that he bring me the New York Times. That was always the start.
Breakfast
Breakfast
Pasteis de Belem
"I just returned from Lisbon and only have one thing to say - Belem Pasteis de Nata"
Thanks
to a reader for reminding me of what is the can't miss taste of Lisbon.
While there are wonderful wines, tasty sausages, perfect cups of
espresso and crispy salt cod fritters that all deserve your attention,
you haven't truly experienced Lisbon until you have made it through the
winding labyrinth of the cafe and bakery, Pasteis de Belem, in a pretty waterfront neighborhood of Lisbon and had a few fresh warm pastries.
The Waffle Iron
Who knew that making waffles could be so fraught with symbolism and
stress? As a single woman, I never gave a thought about waffles, irons
or, come to think about it, marriage. One day my mother called to say
she couldn't, just couldn't send me a waffle iron. Why? She had read a
"Cathy" comic strip where Cathy's mother went on her usual neurotic
rant about how she couldn't buy Cathy a waffle iron because waffle
irons meant children, which meant marriage, which meant husbands, none
of which Cathy had.
Waffles on weekends
(from the Los Angeles Times)
Russ Parsons wrote this really great thing in the LA Times about waffles – here’s a tiny bit of it.
I’ve got a thing for waffles.
For me, there is no better treat on a Saturday or Sunday morning. I don’t care whether the rest of my time is spent balancing checkbooks and cleaning out the garage, but as long as I’ve had waffles, it’s been a good weekend.
Puff the Magic Pancakes
From the LA Times
I could tell you I love them because they're so easy to make — who doesn't love a dish that comes together in less than half an hour? Or I could say it's because of their delicate texture and flavor — light and airy, but rich and almost nutty to the taste, it's like biting into a delicious cloud.
But honestly? The reason I love these pancakes is because of the way they puff in the oven. They're downright fun to watch.
Call them what you will — Dutch babies, German pancakes, Dutch puffs — they're all about the souffle factor. They're kind of like Yorkshire puddings or popovers, but supersized. Mix together a few ingredients and pour the batter into a hot buttered skillet, then put it in the oven and watch it swell. In minutes, these babies may puff to more than five times their original size.
It's magical. Serve them quickly; like a souffle, the magic begins to deflate once they're out of the oven.
More Articles ...
Check out--
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Turkey-Butternut Tortilla Soup with Zesty Lime Sour Cream
For the soup:
3 cups cooked turkey, shredded
1 butternut squash
1¼ cups onion
1 cup corn
4 garlic cloves
1 jalapeno
3 Tablespoons olive oil
3 corn tortillas
2 cups tomatoes
3 Tablespoons tomato paste
1 Tablespoon ground cumin
6 cups chicken broth
6 ounces spinach
Salt and pepper to tasteFor the sour cream:
½ cup sour cream
1 Tablespoon lime juice
Zest of one lime
¼ teaspoon ground cumin
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