Cravings

Biscuits and scramble, at Barista Proper, Nashville

Once back from Nashville all I could think about was the biscuits. Biscuits! Biscuits!
The New Times says the Loveless Cafe has the best biscuits, I must agree, slathered in homemade strawberry jam they were divine, but the flaky ones above were my personal favorite.
Breeding will out, what can I say? I was raised on Sundays of a gloppy batter of Bisquick dropped pell mell onto a baking tray. Once out of the oven, crisp on the outside and flaky on the inside my sister and I could never get enough.

Shirley Corriher once got a standing ovation in Italy for her biscuits, and her recipe is legendary.

I've tweaked it just a wee bit, for two people with my tastebuds.

Preheat oven to 425; butter a small baking dish or pie pan.
On a dish place spread half a cup of flour.

Into one cup self-rising flour add:
1/2 tsp salt
1 tbls sugar

Mix in 2 tbls shortening with your fingers.

Add:
1/3 cup 1/2 and 1/2
1/2 cup buttermilk.

It will be gloppy!

Scoop, with an ice creamer scooper or tablespoon, dough onto the plate of flour.
Cover with flour, dust off, place in center of baking or  pie pan. Continue with the rest of the batter, surrounding the first biscuit with the others, touching. Brush with a tbls of melted butter.

Bake for 20-25 minutes until their color suits you.

 I freeze any leftovers and crisp them up in a 325 degree oven until heated through. Enjoy!

The Writing Process Tour

 

Thank you, Jessica Ceballos, for passing the baton in my direction!
I've been so impressed by Jessica's artistic dedication, from her Bluebird Reading Series at Avenue 50 Studio to her impressive organizational abilities and vision involved in the care and feeding of that tremendous project, #90for90 Literary Events in downtown Los Angeles. 

What are you working on?
How does your work differ from others of its genre?
Why do you write what you do?
How does your writing process work?

Right now my writing life is a giddy jumble.  I am working as hard as I can to a) promote my recently published novel, b) begin the academic year at Oxy c)  write new words!
Writing new words right now is looking more like revising the words I already have. I've been working on another Inez Leon (my Latina PI with a tortilla chip on her shoulder) for too long, now.  I really should simply nail my feet to the floor, unable to leave my writing area until I can at last type "The End."

The recently published novel is family drama, and the work-in-progress is a mystery.  I feel my cast of characters reflects the diversity of the world I live in, and that alone is enough to differentiate my work from 90% of all forms of media right there.  Most importantly, to me, my writing includes nuanced portrayals of complex Latina/os. 

I write in order to shred the cloak of invisibility that has been thrust upon me and others like me.

Process?
I really search for an emotional landscape that engages me.  I mentally feel out its shape and contours, because I need a road map, I need to know where I am going.  My issues of control and organization are good, up to a point.  I've taken Rebecca Solnit's words to heart: "Be open to mysteries, the nature of which are unknown to you."  I'm working on doing that with my writing, as well as my life.  With some of the contours in mind, (oops, and a tentative outline) I'm off to Anne Lamott's "shitty first draft."  Words on the page, words on the page are all so much better than a wasteland of emptiness.  The writing itself helps sort out ideas, directions, impromptu scenes.

And now, I pass the quill/fountain pen/touch screen to three writers I enjoy and respect: Melanie Page who already knows a thing or two about blog tours, the impressive poet/writer/badass Rachel McKibbens
and that goddess of all things eclectic, Margaret Finnegan.
Hope to see your posts in a week!

Join My Virtual Book Tour

Discover the week's schedule here

The road to writing is a circuitous one, and I chat about it here.
Have you ever annotated your own writing? I enjoyed it--see it here.
Come visit me today, over at [Pank] although I must confess, I'm not sure if I'm cool
enough for that uber cool publication!

Restless Nest Syndrome

The day after we shipped my son off to parts known to him but not me, Chris Erskine published a mournful piece in the LA Times about his empty nest syndrome.

The night my son left I:
Read in a bar full of fans and strangers
Drank in the giddy energy of Union Station
Ate out, with my husband at a delicious spot in Chinatown.

Color me a bad mom.
What my husband and I will certainly miss is our son's ability to translate his mother for his dad's benefit, and his dad for his mother's enlightenment.

But both of us are giddy and full of joy for his upcoming adventures.

Now is the Time to Honor Summer Flings

Originally printed in RLife

Years ago, while touring my husband's country of origin with his aunt, Cupid blindsided me. 

Perhaps it was the quick city tour from the left side of the road, starring Big Ben, and the Tower of London, maybe it was his aunt's crisp, posh accent, but I knew deep in my heart, that I was irrevocably in love. With her classic, Hunter Green Range Rover. 

A few years later, when it was time for us to buy a car, lust and desire filled my heart with a madness of longing. I wanted one. My practical husband said we could buy a Range Rover if I didn't mind putting a mechanic on the payroll.

Ah, well, he was probably jealous.
I put this longing aside, and decided to be a faithful wife.  And for ten years, I was. I drove a serviceable minivan. I safely hauled kids around, as well as hundreds of cubic feet of camp gear. But there was no spark, and inwardly, I railed against this tyranny of monogamy.

Speeding along the freeway, or pulling up to the car pool, no one could possibly imagine my past: walking through the cobbled Parisian streets at four in the morning, sighting the soldiers with their rifles guarding the Albanian border, or weeks spent on the Adriatic coast, nude sunbathing.

Sitting in my van with the peeling wood side-paneling I was just like the millions of mothers around me. People saw carpools and Oreo cookies. Anticipation, excitement, a return to the illicit thrills and passion of youth was what I craved. It was time to push the minivan over a cliff, put a bullet in its heart, and move on, preferably to some flashy bad boy model. 

Only then did I realize I had been carrying a torch. The Range Rover remained idiosyncratic, quirky, provocative. It would know me, understand me, sense my every mood. Now observers would know a woman like me could wipe the rattlers and the tumbleweeds from the bush bar as I trekked through the desert . Yes, it was an environmentally heedless dream. But remember, it is better to love too well, if not too wisely.

Ultimately I was reunited with my 1994 Range Rover Hunter Green Classic model. My husband, probably intrigued by thoughts of a menage a trois, agreed and we bought it. Later that winter we drove to Reno, to Denver, to Santa Fe, to the Grand Canyon and back, the six cd changer crooning in my ear the entire way.

Unfortunately, when we returned home, the honeymoon was over.

You see, each week, bits would fall off, plastic, metal, rubber, revealing my new love to be, well, past its prime. When the panel to the fuse box fell off, my 9 year old was delighted to test the fuses en route. Once those were fiddledwith the moon roof wouldn't budge and the car alarm sounded at the worst moments, like when I started the car. As gas prices rocketed, my gas mileage plummeted. My car had turned into something needy, demanding, and imperious.

After spending the equivalent of a decent family vacation on essential repairs, I ran errands and went to retrieve my children from school. My key froze in the ignition. During my call to Auto Club the operator asked for the make and model. 
When I told him, he said, "Wow."

"Wow, as in you get a lot of these calls?"

"No, wow as in it's a Range Rover."

I took a deep breath. I glanced at the parking lot, where my car waited, out of ear shot, resolutely immobile, unaware of the coming betrayal, It was time. My heart was pounding wildly. In a low voice I asked, "You looking to buy?"

Road side assistance demurred.

Next time I long for a fling, I'll settle for a strategically placed tattoo or piercing.

A Cocktail Recipe: The Amado

Yes, I've been gone too long, and I'm not sure when I'll return.
In short, it's been a lot of celebrations and wish fulfillment, thanks to THE AMADO WOMEN

In their honor, a champagne cocktail:

The Amado

In a champagne flute pour:
One half part vodka
One part grapefruit juice
top with
One part pink, slightly sweet champagne.

Stir once, gently.

Bittersweet, in honor of their lives.

Barbarism and Barbecue

According to this post in Salon, barbecue traces its roots back to cannibalism. According to this post, (in my honor, may I add), by goddess Margaret, all that should be right up my alley.

How appropriate, then, that I should have recently developed a savage addiction to Ken Bruen's work. London Boulevard (a play on "Sunset Boulevard," get it? I was halfway through the book before I could figure it out) is dripping with violence, blood, noir and hard boiled allusions; I was going to return it to the library, but then changed my mind. Working through its references should fill my summer reading list.

Although Bruen's Irish, his writing style is strictly US of A. And what embodies that legend most? Bar B Q.

I will not post the recipe, I will merely give you the link for the most amazing Carolina pulled pork sandwiches. Last night we used the smoker, and let me tell you, dinner was smokin' hot.

Sounds like a 4th of July recipe, to me. That was a revolution, right? We are a violent bunch of people.

You CAN do this at home

 
I love manila clams.  They're small and flavorful, and pop open, when steamed, in minutes.

Buy:
1/2 pound per person.
(what follows are ingredients per person/serving)

In a saute pan add a splash of olive oil. Saute a tablespoon of minced shallots until translucent. Add a clove of garlic, a teaspoon of minced jalapenos.  Cook a few seconds, until soft.  Add half an ounce or so of sliced Spanish chorizo, saute briefly.  Into sauce pan splash a bit of white wine about.  Once half-evaporated, add a half a cup of broth (fish, chicken or vegetable) and bring to a boil.   Toss in your rinsed clams, lower to a simmer, cover and check after three minutes.  The clams will be opening right before your eyes.  If not, give it another minute or two, but no longer.  (And don't pry open the closed ones, they're shut tight for a reason).

Serve in a soup bowl with plenty of the spicy broth, crusty bread and sweet butter.

Soooo satisfying!

Crab Risotto

The kids have flown, the spouse is out of town. Sola, perduta, abbandonata, as the Puccini aria goes.
On the upside, the menu is all my own.

Here's something I made for myself.  Full confession: I actually had shrimp stock in the freezer, making it so much more memorable.


In a heavy sauce pan heat  a teaspoon or so of vegetable oil.  Add a tablespoon of shallots.  Stir until transparent, or cook until caramelized a bit. Stir in half a cup of risotto, heat through.  Splash with white wine, stir until evaporated. Add salt.
A half a cup of watered down stock at a time, add to sauce pan, stirring over medium heat, until liquid is absorbed.  Keep doing this until the rice is done to your desired consistency (cooked through, but not mushy). This may take 15 minutes.  At last,  stir in a teaspoon of unsalted butter, a scattering of chopped herbs: tarragon, parsley, chives and half a cup of crab (canned, I'm not fussy) stirring until heated through.

A little fume blanc with your meal, and you could be singing like this.

Sweet Sipping

Grammercy Park, NYC, outside my daughter's dorm.

My daughter heads home today, and in honor of her return from the cold we'll have a celebratory cocktail and nosh.

Drink recipe via the glamorous and ebullient Nigella Lawson

The Poinsettia:

Per champagne glass--
a splash of Cointreau or Grand Marnier
Fill halfway with cranberry juice
Top with sparkling wine.

This, and my daughter, will be sure to make the evening sparkle.

Sweet Potatoes are Your Friends

To many of us, these weird looking tubers make an appearance once a year or so, filling pie shells, or topped with mini marshmallows.  I used them on Thanksgiving for a wonderful casserole, mixed with butter, brown sugar and topped with pecans.  Pie filling posing as a side dish.

Afterwards there were unused sweet potatoes left in my fridge.  Not up for a brown sugar binge, I searched, and I found.

Thank you, Chicagolist.

Heat your oven to 375 degrees.  As it warms, scrub clean your tubers, then cube (skins, warts and all).
Toss them in a baking dish, add a teaspoon of salt and a tablespoon of olive oil per potato, and toss again til they are well-coated. 

(You can add pepper and a dash of cayenne--but this way the subtle sweetness is more pronounced)

Roast for 20 minutes, remove from oven, mix them up, return to oven for another 10-20 minutes until a bit crusty on the exterior and meltingly tender on the interior. 

Divine. I promise you, too, will thank Chicagolist.

Buttermilk Biscuits

This happened because I couldn't bear to throw away the buttermilk, again.  I usually keep it around for pancakes, because it's better than milk.  But there was that quart, staring at me accusingly.

Biscuits, it whispered to me, suggestively.  Buttermilk biscuits with melting butter and apricot jam.  Buttermilk biscuits with any leftover gravy. Biiisssscuuuuiiiiits--

All right already!
Heat oven to 450 degrees.

Mix 2 cups flour with 1/4 tsp baking soda, 1 tbsp baking powder, 1 tsp salt and 6 tablespoons unsalted very cold butter, cut into small pieces.

If you have a food processor, combine the dry ingredients then add the butter, and pulse into course meal.

Otherwise cut the butter in by hand.  Mix in one cup buttermilk until just combined.

Pat the dough out gently onto a floured surface, cut into rounds.  Repeat with scraps (handle the dough as briefly as possible, for best results).

Bake for 10-12 minutes- until light golden brown on top. 

What, too many for one person?  Freeze them on a cookie sheet, repackage, then bake at your leisure, again at 450 this time for 20 minutes.

Coffee, apricot jam and biscuits.  Perfect for a winter morning.

December?!?

Holy smokes, it's that time of year again--the end of the year.  Perhaps I think not blogging will slow things down, but it hasn't worked, not yet.

I hope your Thanksgiving festivities were tastefully rollicking, and that the following days were filled with pie and more pie for breakfast. It was a sad morning for me when I realized I had already eaten the last of the pie.

Sigh.

In between cooking and eating and cleaning up there are thoughts of Christmas and Hannukah gifts.  I think I have found one that really out does itself in a stunning lack of self-awareness.  More in a moment.
Cut to--The Hunger Games, which, however way you slice your turkey IS all about class warfare--no more glaring than the contrast between Katniss's home town of District 12--and the gleeful gaudy carnival atmosphere of the capitol. Each and every resident a preening Louis XVI or a gloating Marie Antoinette. 

The gift I was talking about?
You can find it right here.  What is it?
The New Hunger Games Capitol Truffle Collection.
A mere $225.

Excuses, Excuses

Gentle reader, I was so giddy about having an essay up, that I forgot to let you know.
If you are interested in a true crime story, you can find it here, at The Toast.

Goddess Marcella Hazan

 

I met Marcella Hazan through a book club, remember those? Four books for a $1? Then more formally at an estate sale.   Apparently the recently deceased had never opened the pages of Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking.  I paid a quarter, and went off, pleased with myself.

Gentle reader, her recipes are timeless, explicit, and surprising.  Last night in her honor I made her mixed salad.

To start, I sliced half a red onion, and let it soak in cold water.  She does require lettuce that I don't know where to buy: lamb's ears, chicory or escarole.  I settled for what was on hand: arugula and romaine.  Per her directions, I diced half a red pepper, substituted a diced celery rib for celery heart, grated a hearty peeled carrot, and diced a tomato.  She also asks for half a fennel bulb and an artichoke heart, but I wasn't up to a shopping trip.  I made do. I added half an avocado that was wandering about. I drained the red onion.

In a salad bowl I mixed it all the vegetables together, then salted them well.  I shook some red wine vinegar over it, then added a glug or so of olive oil. I mixed again.

So fresh, so delightful, or, as she says: "There is just enough, so that what is missing from one mouthful of salad is suddenly and delightfully present in the next."

Been Fishin'

 
Yah, I've been neglectful.  What happened? It was hot, and I didn't feel up to cooking.  I was out of town and didn't have to cook, the academic year began, etc. etc. etc.

But here I am. I picked the fish up at Trader Joe's, it'a  very mild white fish, boneless, skinless, ready to go for those of you who prefer minimal fuss and a little extra packaging.  The cashier asked me how I made these and after I explained, a switch was pulled.  My next post, it said, in flashing neon lights.

Quick and Easy:
Defrost one pound according to packaging.
Saute a sliced white onion in a tablespoon of oil.  When soft, to your desired golden brownness, add a minced garlic, and one or two diced tomatoes, a tablespoon of capers.  Stir.  Cover and simmer gently, until the tomatoes break down.  Lay the filets on top, cover, and steam for 8 minutes until cooked through.

Serve on top of steamed rice, or rice pilaf.

Quicker and Easier:
Sprinkle defrosted filets with salt, pepper, tarragon (and/or basil and thyme, if you like)
Dredge in flour.  (Don't worry if it gets lumpy or pasty, butter is our salvation).  Lay filets on a clean plate. Melt on medium high a tablespoon of butter on a skillet large enough to hold all of the fish. When the  butter bubbles down, add fish.  After four minutes,  turn the filets.  Add more butter if it's all been absorbed.  Lower heat and cook for another four minutes--or until cooked through.

Serve with sauteed spinach and risotto, or potato salad. Yum, yum.

Cleaning out My Wallet

Cleaning out my wallet I came across two Metro Cards.  Flipping them over I found that they're good till July/2014.  And beneath that I read:





Voyager

I have become an orchid
washed in on the salt white beach.
Memory,
what can I make of it now
that might please you--
this life, already wasted
and still strewn with
 miracles?

                                         --Mary Ruefle

Do You Eat Tomatoes for Breakfast?

In a recent conversation with writing buddies and their wonderful crop of home-grown tomatoes, someone thought eating tomatoes in the morning was a bit challenging.  I must confess to finding cereal a crime against humanity. 

I do enjoy tomatoes in the morning, whether cooked down, with onions and chiles in Mexican eggs, or sizzled in bacon fat the English way.  

Actually, I can eat home-grown tomatoes any time of the day or night, sliced and salted.  And I did.  So lucky to have talented gardeners as buddies.

The BEST darn kebobs

Marcella Hazan is a goddess.  I run to her to Classic Italian to make minestrone, ragu, tomato sauces. She does everything!  One of my favorite recipes is her take on skewered swordfish.

Cube 2lbs of swordfish (1 by 2" chunks, approximately)
Cut approximately the same number of rectangles of red, yellow, or orange bell peppers.


Place the above in a container or baggy, with a tablespoon of bread crumbs.  Add juice of half a lemon, 1/3 cup olive oil, salt, and mix.  Marinate for a minimum of 30 minutes on the counter, longer in the fridge.

To skewer:

You will need a similar amount of finely sliced, half moon lemons. If you can, use meyer lemons.
And half inch chunks of tomato.

The pattern should be:
Fish, lemon, tomato, pepper, fish, lemon, etc.

Grill four minutes a side, eight in total.  The fish should be moist, not dry and tough.

Serve with an easy pilaf!  More grilled vegetables! Rose wine!

Current Summer Addictions

Sliced peaches, bananas, a sprinkling of blueberries on zero percent Greek yogurt, with a healthy shower of brown sugar.

Pancakes, with diced bananas and blue berries scattered into the batter before flipping.  A drizzle of maple syrup and a dollop of Greek yogurt on the side (for protein, cuts back the hunger pangs caused by all those deliciously empty carbs).

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