A slice of homemade boule, fresh out of the cast-iron pan, smeared with butter and honeycomb. J.'s friend Polly actually ground the flour herself, riding on a bicycle whose drivetrain had been linked cunningly to a portable grist mill, at the first ever Petersham market day. (Also on sale, jars of dried winesap mushrooms from the local Grace Note Farm -- tantalizing, and how very hobbit-like.) Polly's parents are cultivating mushrooms, too, shiitake; J. inspected the stack of logs which had been impregnated with the fungus, and which should start fruiting next year.
With the encouragement of said Polly-parents, I also tried a smear of Marmite on the end of my bread. The flavor was puh-puh-powerful, yeasty and aromatic, with the same kind of glutamate register as a tomato broth. I didn't enjoy it, but could see how people come come to. Will have to try eggy soldiers sometime, sticks of toast dipped in soft-boiled egg and then Marmite.
To go with the bread, I'd scrambled some eggs -- fresh from the farm, that is, from the Petersham market, they were, with chives I snipped myself from the household kitchen garden, and seasoned with turmeric and some of the ground dried chili pepper the father grows himself. A nice kick. I drank water with breakfast.
On the drive home from Petersham, we stopped at a Burger King for lunch, and split a veggie burger and diet cola.
Back in Lunenburg we nibbled at some leftover Chinese savories, a shrimp tempura ring and a beef (!) skewer, and had some white cheddar crackers. This wasn't more than 200 calories of junk, though, since we knew dinner was coming soon.
Dinner was: a cob of corn with oleo, a Woodchuck cider, half a skinless chicken breast and a strip of sirloin (!!), both marinated and done well on the grill, a scoop of Zatarain's jambalaya rice, a flaky Pillsbury biscuit, and a helping of Caesar salad. Dessert was a kiddie-sized cake cone from Cherry Hill, clearly meant for some monster-sized kids. Flavor: graham cracker ice cream, with graham-cracker bits, and chocolate-covered honeycomb bits. So good! Reminded me of the invention I never invented, the candy bar that is a chocolate-covered graham cracker. Alas, Wonka beat me to it. I also, of course, had a spoonful or two of J.'s cup of ice cream, but it was too bitter, some kind of Kahlua mess.
Before bed, I had a few slurps of J.'s mug of cream of garlic soup. There had been a tub of peeled garlic cloves in the fridge from when J.s' (soon-to-be) brother-in-law and sister had come over to make ravioli in garlic cream sauce; I'd announced I could make use of it, so I did. We toasted mashed garlic and olive oil in the pan (and turned it bright green), and then cooked this with white wine and chicken broth. Meanwhile ("back in the lab..."), we blended cooked potato with more chicken broth in the Cuisinart until we had a creamy smooth base for the soup. We put this over medium heat, strained the garlic mush through a paper towel and colander, and added the garlic wine-broth mix to the potato base. We added milk to the right consistency, and simmered the pot for 40 minutes. Seasoned with salt, pepper, and thyme, and pretty good. The flavor is mild, and the color isn't the bright kelly green that we feared it would become when we saw the transformation of the garlic in the pan.
BREAKING NEWS: I am reminded, hours after the time of original posting, by J. that before bed, we ALSO split a frosted besprinkled cookie. This accuracy is important for future biographers, so, thank you J.
With the encouragement of said Polly-parents, I also tried a smear of Marmite on the end of my bread. The flavor was puh-puh-powerful, yeasty and aromatic, with the same kind of glutamate register as a tomato broth. I didn't enjoy it, but could see how people come come to. Will have to try eggy soldiers sometime, sticks of toast dipped in soft-boiled egg and then Marmite.
To go with the bread, I'd scrambled some eggs -- fresh from the farm, that is, from the Petersham market, they were, with chives I snipped myself from the household kitchen garden, and seasoned with turmeric and some of the ground dried chili pepper the father grows himself. A nice kick. I drank water with breakfast.
On the drive home from Petersham, we stopped at a Burger King for lunch, and split a veggie burger and diet cola.
Back in Lunenburg we nibbled at some leftover Chinese savories, a shrimp tempura ring and a beef (!) skewer, and had some white cheddar crackers. This wasn't more than 200 calories of junk, though, since we knew dinner was coming soon.
Dinner was: a cob of corn with oleo, a Woodchuck cider, half a skinless chicken breast and a strip of sirloin (!!), both marinated and done well on the grill, a scoop of Zatarain's jambalaya rice, a flaky Pillsbury biscuit, and a helping of Caesar salad. Dessert was a kiddie-sized cake cone from Cherry Hill, clearly meant for some monster-sized kids. Flavor: graham cracker ice cream, with graham-cracker bits, and chocolate-covered honeycomb bits. So good! Reminded me of the invention I never invented, the candy bar that is a chocolate-covered graham cracker. Alas, Wonka beat me to it. I also, of course, had a spoonful or two of J.'s cup of ice cream, but it was too bitter, some kind of Kahlua mess.
Before bed, I had a few slurps of J.'s mug of cream of garlic soup. There had been a tub of peeled garlic cloves in the fridge from when J.s' (soon-to-be) brother-in-law and sister had come over to make ravioli in garlic cream sauce; I'd announced I could make use of it, so I did. We toasted mashed garlic and olive oil in the pan (and turned it bright green), and then cooked this with white wine and chicken broth. Meanwhile ("back in the lab..."), we blended cooked potato with more chicken broth in the Cuisinart until we had a creamy smooth base for the soup. We put this over medium heat, strained the garlic mush through a paper towel and colander, and added the garlic wine-broth mix to the potato base. We added milk to the right consistency, and simmered the pot for 40 minutes. Seasoned with salt, pepper, and thyme, and pretty good. The flavor is mild, and the color isn't the bright kelly green that we feared it would become when we saw the transformation of the garlic in the pan.
BREAKING NEWS: I am reminded, hours after the time of original posting, by J. that before bed, we ALSO split a frosted besprinkled cookie. This accuracy is important for future biographers, so, thank you J.
No comments:
Post a Comment