Duty called

I've been sorely remiss in attending to my gelato duties. Zingerman's has been making gelato for at least a few years now and the only taste I've had of it was a wee scoop of melon gelato that came in a little prosciutto cup at a dinner at the Roadhouse (nice combo, by the way). Tonight, duty called in the form of Brian taking the kids out and no rain (it's about bloody time) so I walked down to Zingerman's and tried their gelato for the first time.

This is what remains:

I thought about tearing the paper cup open and licking the residual drips, but I was walking home through my neighborhood at the time and decided that maintaining some facade of sanity would be a good thing. Don't want to be known as the neighborhood paper-licker.

I tried the Chocolate Heat: a dense dark chocolate base with fragrant cinnamon mixed in. It was very good--perfect texture and temperature, not overwhelming in the creaminess department, strong punch of flavor. My only critique is that it says that this gelato contains a little cayenne and ancho chile powders which were so faint as to be undetectable. Were I the gelato mix-master, I would up the heat factor so that it would more closely resemble my darling Vosges Red Fire chocolate bar (and my imitative spicy hot chocolate).

The flavors available are limited; also in stock at the deli today were lemon, raspberry, coconut, chocolate, vanilla, and hazelnut. I'd like to try the Cajeta (goat milk caramel and cinnamon) and burnt sugar flavors which I'm hoping they have regularly at the Creamery; the other two flavors that tempt me (ginger and espresso) are sadly not available until the autumn. I'm also hoping that there are other flavors that appear occasionally that aren't listed on their webpage (like that scoop of melon gelato). I'd love to see a peach gelato (yes, I can wait until August when Red Haven peaches are in season) since one of my fondest memories of Italy involves eating peach gelato on a Ligurian beach at sunset. I'd also like to see added to their standard flavor line up some of the Italian regulars like Stracciatella (chocolate chip) and Torrone (honey nougat).

For you local folks, Zingerman's Creamery website has some gelato dates to note:

June 3--opening day of gelato season and free mini-cones at the Creamery. Bring the small people! (Kids love small cones. Kids love big cones, too.)
Every Wednesday--buy 2 get 1 free gelato.
Every Sunday--free tours of the Creamery.

For the last item, any food-obsessed local friends want to meet up for a tour some upcoming Sunday? Remember, it is more fun to groan about the pleasures of abundant butterfat with friendly witnesses who can mock you later.

Green

We are on what feels like day 300 of perpetual rain here. (Note: if I had wanted perpetual rain, I would have moved to the Northwest where you can counter your lousy mood with lots of fresh seafood.) Beneath the dripping sky is a very, very green world. We haven't been able to mow the lawn in about two weeks since the grass is too wet and Fiona suggested that we tie the larger clumps of grass into pony tails--a new look in landscaping.

On a more positive note, last Thursday my bookgroup got together for our green meal to discuss our green book, Wicked.

First the food, since good food and drink always loosens the tongue. (I am amazed when people tell me they have book groups where there isn't food or alcohol--Whhhaaaaa?)

We started off with Lea's cheesy warm artichoke dip.

Garlicy, gooey, yum, yum, more.

Then we moved to the table and had Jen's beautiful asparagus soup. Jen has long claimed that she can't cook which we now all realize was just a confidence issue. The soup was excellent--velvety, warm and comforting on a chilly damp day.

Then we loaded our plates with Sarah's spinach pasta with pesto, Marilyn's salad with avocado and asparagus and bread flecked with (green) rosemary.
And to wash it down, those of us not on powerful antibiotics (sigh) drank a good deal of wine (in a green bottle, of course).

Sarah, looking thoughtful. Drink up, Sarah!

For dessert I made a key lime pie with whipped cream. Ok, so key limes are yellow, but I didn't have the heart to add food coloring to it.

And now, the book. There were a number of expressions of frustration about the book. I think we all agreed that the first half, from childhood until Elphaba finishes college was very compelling and that after that the book lost focus. The second half didn't measure up to the promise of the first half, in part because the most interesting relationship in the book is between Elphaba and Galinda and Galinda hardly makes an appearance in the second half.

I can't understand why a good editor didn't advise Maguire to limit the story to the two witches in their college days. There were so many elements, particularly in the second half, that were undeveloped, as though the author was trying to examine way too many themes, many of which he would mention and then drop. It seems to me that the contemplation of the nature of good and evil is a complex enough topic to demand complete attention, without lots of side topics to distract the reader. This left us with lots of head scratching--what the heck was the Yackel character about? She kept popping up which makes one think her appearance must be significant, but why she was there was never clear. And all the dragon references (was Elphaba supposed to be part dragon somehow, even though the book implies she is the Wizard's daughter?) were pointing towards something, but exactly what, I can't say.

So on a global examination of the book, people enjoyed reading it, but were pretty frustrated with the decisions the author made. I think that some of the pleasure was on a paragraph level--even if it had nothing to do with the trajectory of the book, there are some ideas and emotions that are really well expressed. It is just a pity that they didn't serve the plot better. We found ourselves looking up favorite lines and picking through scenes, which makes for great conversation and once again, found that a flawed book (though not a horrible book like The News From Paraguay which everyone wanted to forget as soon as possible) can yield an excellent discussion.

Jen, in one of her moments of dry wit, drew our attention to the following sentence which is about Elphaba and her group of friends at college.

"Perhaps every accidental cluster of people has a short period of grace, in between the initial shyness and prejudice on the one hand and eventual repugnance and betrayal on the other." (p.146)

We all looked at each other. Our book group has been together now for almost 6 years--are we on the brink of repugnance and betrayal? Thank god, no! So we poured another glass of wine, ate some pie and relaxed into the comfort of each other's company.

I may have pneumonia but...

I finally went to the doctor yesterday after 13 days of low fever and 4 days of a cough so horrific that I though a piece of my lung would come flying out of my mouth at any moment. She said my lungs were "rattling" and I have pneumonia. But hey, severe coughs are terrific toners for any floppy abdominal muscles you may have! I may have pneumonia but I now also have abs of steel! And a husband who makes me sleep in one of the kids' beds until my cough stops sounding like a dog barking in his ear all night long. I have come to realize that Thomas the Tank engine sheets are about as soft as sandpaper. Never noticed that before!

To continue in this vein, I may have pneumonia but I managed to finish the back of the red sweater last night while watching Lost:

A vast field of red, guarded by the mandatory toy robot...

Yes, actual knitting content! I haven't looked too closely (because denial is a big word in my life) but I think that all the cables are twisting the correct direction. If they aren't well, this is the back of the sweater so at least I won't have to look at any goof ups. Whoever gets stuck standing behind me in a line can amuse themselves counting errors. When it came time to cast on for the front, I couldn't remember which size I was making because, despite the proliferation of many instruments of writing in this house, I neglected yet again to circle the size I decided on when I began. So I had to count across the stitches a few times until I was cross eyed. Seed stitch combined with Codeine does funny things to the brain.

Also, I may have pneumonia but I managed to squeeze the juice out of this pile of wee citrus today:

Now that's a lot of little limes.

My book group is meeting tonight. I may have pneumonia but I'll be damned if I miss a good book group meeting, even if my appetite is pretty pathetic and I can't drink with the antibiotics I'm taking. This month we read Wicked so we're having an all-green dinner in honor of Elphaba, the main character. I'm determined to remember to bring my camera tonight, so photos of the spread and some commentary on the book will appear tomorrow. Or the day after (after all, if you didn't hear me say it already, I have pneumonia so I may cut myself a rest day).

Corn People

In an attempt to appeal to my incredible picky eater son, we have been having food-theme days. I try not to bitch too much about my kid's general suspicion and dislike for most foods since I figure this is my cosmic payback for my regular sin of gluttony. But I also can't just stand by while he passes up the pleasures of many a fine kid-friendly food (I'm not crazy enough to, say, plan on having "Mackerel Day!") So I've had to get a little creative.

Last week we had Corn Day and the end result was that Ian discovered he loves corn on the cob! I know, corn is only barely a vegetable (actually it is a grass...) but we are working on versatility more than just nutrition. To get to this point required a good deal of extra work on my behalf.

First we had to dig through the house and find as many directly corn-based foods. (I'm reading The Omnivore's Dilemma right now and the first section describes how Americans are corn people since pretty much every meat and processed food we eat is dependent on some corn based product. But for the purpose of Corn Day, I thought we'd stick to the recognizable ones.) We found canned corn, corn chips, corn meal, crunchy dried corn, frozen corn and some fresh corn on the cob that he helped me pick out the day before at the store.

Since my picky eater is also a reluctant writer (though not a reluctant reader, thank god), we did some corn-themed writing practice. He wrote "Today is Corn Day" and other such relevant sentences. He drew a picture of some corn in a bowl. We sampled some corn products throughout the day, but the culmination (and great success) came at night.

We took our corn on the cob out on the deck to shuck it. The kids helped pull the husks and silk off of the cobs and then before attempting the eating portion of the evening, we made a Native American-style corn husk doll.
(Instructions here; one is supposed to used dried corn husks rather than fresh because by the next day our doll had dried a bit and was pretty loose limbed. But making the doll with the husks of the corn they just shucked themselves holds a pretty big appeal for the small people).

Here she is in the hands of the gentler child:
After Fiona got hold of her she lost a lot of her corn-silk hair and her arms were yanked from side to side until they were dramatically different lengths.

Doll dismemberment in progress...

I proposed to take the shucked corn inside and give it a quick boil to cook it. But the kids decided that before I cooked it they should see what it tastes like raw. Ian took a tentative little bite:
and declared it delicious! Fiona was much more energetic in her corn attack. Here she is getting some good leverage on the cob:
and here is the end of that bite:
I think she has a future in baseball if we practice on enough corn cobs.

Both were eating the raw corn so enthusiastically that I couldn't pry it out of their paws to cook it. And since it seemed like a waste to boil water for just my cob, we all sat outside and ate it raw. It was surprisingly good corn for this time of year--a little starchy due to the raw state, but very, very sweet. The next day we tried cooked corn on the cob and they liked that too.

Now I'm wracking my brains about what other food "themed" day (or days) we can come up with. I'm thinking that a pea week would be good--I've planted my peas in my garden and when they are close to being ready to pick we could do a week of pea themed activities. Since Ian is so into science, I thought we could read about Gregor Mendel's principles of genetics that he figured out with pea plants. Ian has already been asking about dominant and recessive traits (why he has blue eyes and Fiona has brown, for example) so this could appeal to him. We could also do some seed sprouting so he can watch the seed turn into a plant. Whether this will actually get him to eat a fresh pea is questionable, but I'm sure as hell hoping that making the food theme into more than just eating will help.

Now, anyone have ideas of things I can do with strawberries?

Kitchen gadgety gift suggestions

My old high-school friend Scott asked for a little advice about purchasing a kitchen gadget for his wife (well, for his kids to give his wife for Mother's Day--three kids, three gadgets, lucky woman) and since I lost his e-mail address somehow (I thought my e-mail program automatically copied addressees into my contacts list but apparently not...Oops) and figure there may be some other folks looking to please a kitchen-gadget obsessed woman on Sunday May 16th, here are a few recommendations.

These are pretty simple things, folks. I have plenty of stuff that takes up a lot of room in the kitchen and gets used once or twice a year.

Here are some of my favorites:
A Microplane zester. These are the best citrus zesters/nutmeg graters/Parmesan cheese shredders bar none. The Parmesan in particular ends up so fine and light it is like eating Parmesan clouds.

Make sure you get the one with the handle. As the blade easily removes the top most layer of skin of a lemon, so it will remove the top most layer of skin of a human. And if you plan to have your toddler present this to the fortunate woman (seeing a lethal object in the hands of a baby is always a fine way to get mom's attention) wrap the blade part for God's sake and make sure she knows to unwrap it carefully! Mother's Day + Emergency Room = No Fun


An Oxo Mixing bowl. I know, you already have mixing bowls. I have two stainless steel, and a set of those fun glass ones that fit inside each other and range in volume from about a tablespoon to big enough to bathe a reasonable sized infant. And I use them all. But last year I went out and bought myself one of these bowls for two reasons: 1) It has a spout and as I was (and still am) obsessed with making ice cream I was having a hell of a time transferring custard from the bowl into the small freezer canister of the ice cream maker. Much of the custard would end up on the counter or trickling down the sides of the canister and much swearing would ensue. This bowl's diminutive spout makes it a piece of cake. 2) It has a rubber bottom (sounds kind of kinky--yes?) and a handle which makes this the bowl I reach for when I cook with the kids. Three year olds are very good at stirring. They stir so well that sometimes the bowl flies off the counter. We have a much better chance of having the ingredients stay in the vicinity of the countertop if I use this bowl.


Tongs. You can never have too many pairs of tongs. I am a particular fan of these Robinson self-locking tongs since they only take one hand to release the lock (some tongs require the hand not holding the tongs to reach over and press or pull something to unlock them--usually when I use tongs, my other hand is occupied holding a platter, or on good days, a glass of wine). I only have one pair and since Brian doesn't read this blog (probably to protect his sanity since he may already suspect he married a nut-case and doesn't want further proof) I'm going to have to hint heavily that I need another pair of tongs for Mother's Day. My method will probably involve the use of tongs as a pinching tool to get his attention. I use my tongs pretty much every day and often have to wash them three or four times just to make one meal (after you have used them to, say, put raw chicken on the grill DON'T FOR GOD'S SAKE use them to stack the corn on the cob on a platter without washing them in between! Or buy two or more pairs and save yourself the hassle.)


Silicon spatulas. Do you remember the white rubber spatulas of your youth? Man, did they taste nasty. As a child devoted to licking out the bowl after my mom had made cake or cookie batter I have a real hatred of those damn spatulas. You'd get a lovely lick of say, lemon cake batter, and then the taste of nasty rubber would come through and ruin it. I am happy to say that my children need not suffer the hardships that I endured (cue violins). Silicon spatulas are terrific. The examples pictured at left are by Le Creuset and are reasonably priced and so cheerful in kiwi-green, but it seems everyone makes them these days. In addition to no nasty taste, these spatulas can be used to stir stuff on the stove since they can take heat up to something like 600 degrees. That makes them very useful for getting into the corners of pans (where a wood spoon can't reach) and keeping sauces or custard from sticking.

Here's to hoping that these 4 suggestions are useful--if you happen to already own all of the above, allow me to complement you on your good taste! Or drop me a line and I can always come up with a second tier of fun and/or useful gadgets to recommend (does mom like beer? Get her a Homer Simpson talking beer bottle opener!)

Muddled

I recently finished Allegra Goodman's newest novel, Intuition. I can't quite figure out what it was about the book that made me feel a degree of reserve while reading it. I've read and enjoyed two of her other novels, Kaaterskill Falls, and The Family Markowitz, but I found that the character in this novel about whom I was supposed to care the most, a research scientist named Marion, was a void. I think she was supposed to be the ethical center of a novel that has to do with the politics of scientific research but by the end of the book I still could not picture the woman.

Marion is supposed to love research and two other pivotal characters, Cliff and Robin, come to the realization that the process of research is what they love, rather than the thrill of important results. But despite three characters professing this love, all I felt about the time spent in their laboratory was tedium. It has been a number of years since I spent time with experimental mice, but this did not make me want to rush back to that world.

Time for a big digression here: the year after I graduated from undergrad with a degree in English, the only job I could find was working in a lab out in Berkeley that was doing quality assurance potency testing of the Botulism toxin (why they hired me, I'll never know). We got FDA approval while I was there, which meant counting a hell of a lot of mouse bodies on my part to know the kill-rate of different toxicities. Then I got to use regression analysis and graph each batch. Eventually this toxin was used to help people with eye spasms who were effectively blind and the toxin would paralyze the spasming muscles. It also has been used on people like radio host Diane Rehm whose vocal style is the result of spasms in her vocal chords. But hey, why stop with fluttering eyelids and vocal chords? Right before I left to go back to grad school the wee little company headed by a doctor not entirely unlike the character of Sandy in this book (charismatic, good hearted, rich as shit with the annual staff picnic held at his winery in Napa), was sold to Allergan and TA DA they marketed it as Botox. So if you are curious why say, Nicole Kidman has no facial expression any more, well, thanks in part to my injecting mice in the butt with botulism, she has paralyzed her wrinkle-causing facial muscles.

Ok enough of the Botox primer, back to the book. Goodman has said that the book is about belief and I can see this being nicely developed between the different characters' desires. Cliff wants to believe he can cure breast cancer and thus disregards his faulty data, Robin doesn't believe that Cliff is capable of such a discovery. Kate wants to believe that Cliff is the heroic scientist. And there is a layer of Judaic belief (and doubt) expressed by many of the characters. That's all well and good, but rather than having this exploration of the desire to believe be the focus, I felt that the book turned into a "did he or didn't he" fake his data question? And I just didn't think that question was so interesting--either he did or he didn't but unfortunately I didn't care enough about any of the characters to worry about the repercussions. Don't you really need to care if Marion's lab will come crashing down if it turns out Cliff fudged his data? Most of the people in the lab were so miserable that it felt like more of a blessing when much of it dissolved. Do I think this is the happy ending that Goodman intended? Beats the hell out of me.

And the title--it really comes down to the two main women characters, Marion and Robin, suspecting the men of either intentional or unintentional wrongdoing. I couldn't help thinking that maybe I would care more about their intuition if it wasn't about data.

I can see a lot of what Goodman was trying to do, and this is still a much better written book that many I've read, but did it make scientific research a compelling subject for a non-scientist? I can only say, not for me.

Brown bear, brown bear, what do you see?

I see my favorite pancakes cooking in front of me.
I have finally found a whole-grain pancake recipe that doesn't taste like sawdust. This recipe is adapted from one in the current issue of Gourmet--their recipe is intended for camping and uses dried buttermilk; I used fresh and I added a little vanilla. The cakes have whole-wheat flour and corn meal--no white flour at all--but they don't hit your gut like a hunk of lead. Brian thought they tasted a bit too much like corn bread--he prefers the white flour kind of pancake--but I didn't think the corn meal overwhelmed the taste. The whole wheat flour gave them a nutty flavor and the corn meal provided a little chewiness.

The small people in the house dictate the shape. The three pictured above turned out rather well. Some of their ursine brethren looked as though they'd been hanging out near a nuclear waste dump with ears of wildly different sizes hanging off their heads. But thankfully my kids are not perfectionists in the realm of pancake art.

I also made a version of the topping recommended in the Gourmet article:
Frozen cherries and berries warmed up with maple syrup. Yum. (They recommended fresh blackberries and maple syrup but unless you happen to be camping right next to a blackberry thicket, I think that's a waste of fresh blackberries.)
With one over-easy egg (from Sunrise Poultry--Sarah told me about these eggs which have huge orange yolks; you can get them at Arbor Farms) and a cup of black coffee, they made for a fine morning repast.

For once, I made these pancakes before the rest of the household woke up (well, Fiona was awake but I lulled her into passivity with a video of Curious George). My oven has a "keep warm" setting and I put it to good use and made all the pancakes at once rather than our usual method of everyone sitting at the kitchen table, yelling at me that they are hungry and then only getting one small pancake at a time. Three fit easily in a pan so that usually means I don't get any until I have pacified the hungry monsters (I feed Brian so he will deal with all of their butter, syrup, cut-into-small-pieces requests). It was weird to all be sitting down to a cooked breakfast at once, but weird in a good way.

Whole-Wheat Pancakes
adapted from Gourmet, May 2006

1 1/4 C whole-wheat flour
1/3 C fine ground cornmeal (don't use the polenta type)
2 t baking powder
3/4 t baking soda
1 T sugar
3/4 t salt
1 C shaken buttermilk
1/2 C skim milk
2 large eggs
1/2 t vanilla extract
1/4 C canola oil

Mix together dry ingredients in a bowl, then add buttermilk, milk, eggs, vanilla and oil and whisk until smooth. Let the batter sit for 5 minutes--it will thicken up a bit. If it is too thick to pour, add a T water and whisk again.

Bake the way you would bake any pancake--you know the routine, wait for some bubbles and the surface to look a little dry before flipping. My cast iron skillet sprayed with canola oil between batches worked great. If you want to eat with the folks for whom you are cooking, set your oven at 200 degrees and put the finished pancakes on a cookie sheet in the oven until you are done cooking all the batter. If you'd rather not eat with the people for whom you are cooking (there are times when you'd really rather not have to be pleasant at the breakfast table and as you are already being very, very nice making pancakes for everyone, you should have the option of choosing whether you want dining companions or not) go ahead and do them three by three and use that excuse to hide in the kitchen.

For the berry-syrup, mix about 1 C frozen cherry-berry fruit mix with 1/2 C maple syrup and nuke for a minute or so until warm.

Serve the pancakes with lots of butter and syrup.

Yes I do still read, thanks for asking....

I haven't posted about a book in over a month--my usual quantity of obsessive reading has been hampered due to this being the time of year that I earn money reading and grading Greek compositions (compositions written in English, by Greek students; no silly, I don't read Greek!). It is fairly painless work that can be done while still in pajamas but it does crimp my recreational reading style.

So here's a lead in--what do a butler and a clone have in common?

No, this is not the set up for an off-color joke. Rather a lame attempt to write about some very complicated feelings raised by Kazuo Ishiguro's latest amazing book.
Never Let Me Go is told from the perspective of a girl clone named Kathy. Now the words "poignant" and "wistful" usually don't appear in the same sentence as "clone" but Ishiguro has managed to take what is usually the subject of science fiction and turn it into a totally, ironically, human drama. I'm not one to dis Sci-fi as a genre--I loved reading Sci-fi when I was growing up and still like the occasional journey into fiction that makes me think about alternate realities rather than about the complexities of character. Not that all Sci-fi is characterless--Mary Doria Russell's book The Sparrow had a main character as complicated as many other good novels and set him on a planet called Rakaht. But more often than not, I find my attraction to Sci-fi means enjoying the concepts and forgiving the somewhat one dimensional characters (Kim Stanley Robinson's Mars Trilogy, which I liked a lot, comes to mind.) But Ishiguro approaches the genre with such delicacy that it is almost unrecognizable despite the fact that the main concept of clones and their uses is one that Sci-fi has covered many a time.

If you saw the crappy movie The Island (which I did), consider Never Let Me Go to be the antidote to those who like a little character and complexity with their subject matter. Just like the characters in The Island, the clones in this book were created for their organs. But unlike the film, in which the entire plot revolves around the clones discovering how their keepers plan to use them and resisting this fate, Ishiguro takes on the much more complicated concept of clones who are aware of their reason for being, who accept it and who quietly go to their fate. The clones (called "students") grow up together in a boarding school-like atmosphere. They know that once they graduate they will first become "carers," then "donors" (who are cared for by the carers) until they have donated so many of their organs that they "complete" (die). The words "carer", "donor" and "complete" are really the only terms that Ishiguro uses that indicate that we are in an alternate reality.

If you have read Ishiguro's exquisite novel The Remains of the Day you will quickly realize that book, about a butler, and this book have a great deal in common in that you wait and wait and wait for the main characters to resist their fate, to question the authority figures in their lives and all they have been brought up to believe in and to make a break for it. I remember feeling heart broken that Stevens wouldn't question the people he served despite the fact that he was aware on some level that it was killing his soul and in this book, I kept waiting for Kathy to rebel, to become the clone who decided not to go quietly to her fate, to be the one that gets away. But that would be too easy.

Sounds incredibly depressing, yes? But somehow it isn't. It is wistful and sad but I couldn't help feeling that one of Ishiguro's main points was about the power of community, even if that community seems to support something that turns your stomach. The "students" in this book draw together to care for each other, they help each other to accept their fate and they ease each other's pain. The fact that in playing these roles, they end up supporting the structure that will kill them ("complete" them) is disturbing.

The main characters in this book die before they are in their 30s but the comparison that kept coming to mind was that of a senior citizens home. As people age and die, do you really want to be the last one alive? Rather than feeling horror when they come to the point in their lives when they become donors, the students instead feel relief. In this book, community is what gives meaning to life and when that community starts to crumble life is far less appealing and it is easier to let go (and there we have a further dig in that the title keeps a running reminder that our instinct is to hold on tight). So Ishiguro manages to make a book about clones and organ donation into a meditation on the meaning of life, community and purpose.

All of this is made more poignant by Ishiguro's exquisite writing style--clean, clear, never frivolous. He knows how to insert the one image that will sock you in the gut and I, for one, never saw those punches coming. The last few pages, in particular, were so beautiful and sad that I think I will remember them forever.

Spring cleaning

Spring is definitely here and while I do have the urge to do a little sprucing up around the old homestead, the touch-up caulking and painting at the top of a high ladder will have to wait until this damn cold goes away (visions of coughing myself backwards off the ladder come to mind).

Allow me to propose a fun-ish activity which can be done while lolling on the couch (don't you love chores like that?), has tangible results and is one of the few organizing concepts that I have thought up that actually works really well. Organize your recipes.

If, like me, you are addicted to food magazines (Hi, my name is Kate and I have a subscription problem....) you probably have a teetering pile of magazines each of which has maybe two or three recipes that you might actually attempt to make.

Rather than leave the magazines and the recipes hidden like this:

Photogenic basket, but not terribly practical when it actually comes to making dinner...

I'm going to suggest that you invest in a few affordable office supplies and create one binder and two folders.

Into the binder go recipes that you regularly make and that are tried and true:

You can assign one of your daughter's robots to protect your favorite recipes.

and into the two folders go the clipped-out recipes that you think you might want to cook someday.
I organized mine by Savory or Sweet, but go ahead and develop whatever categories work well for you.

Now before you begin this project here is a list of the supplies you need:

• 1 binder

• 1 large pack of page protectors (so you can slide clippings in--no need to retype anything)

• 1 set of binder dividers

• 2 (or more) pocket folders to put your clippings in

Alternatively, if you are really into organizing, you could have two binders, one with the tried and true recipes and one with the yet-to-be-tried recipes. I'm too lazy to organize this thoroughly.

Now grab a sharp pair of scissors and gather together your teetering pile of magazines. Cut out anything that you might be tempted to make and that falls within the realm of a reasonable recipe (the ethnic stew with 23,000 ingredients and specialized equipment you can pass over) and stick it in its appropriate folder:
Once your folder is as packed to the gills as this one is, you know that you need to spend a little time in the kitchen cooking some of what you clipped and deciding whether the recipe is a keeper or not.

If it is a goodie, then find that little darling a page protector of its very own and sort it into your binder. The page protector keeps cooking crud off of the recipe and it means you can just unclip the specific recipe and don't have to have the whole binder out taking up counter space. For sorting, I divided my binder into the following categories: Soups/Salads/Sides, Main Dishes, Baked goods (non dessert--you know, breads, scones, muffins), Desserts. I've been debating whether I should add another section for cookies, because the urge to make cookies is often separate from my urge to make a proper dessert. But for now the cookie recipes are hanging out with the Hot Fudge Pudding Cake recipes (yes, there is more than one tried and true Hot Fudge Pudding Cake recipe in my binder. Wanna make something of it?)
When you are pressed for time, feeling like you can't think of what to cook or maybe just needing a little self-esteem boost that a successfully prepared recipe can provide, you can turn to this binder and find reliable recipes. And if later a recipe that you thought was a keeper lets you down (some recipes have the first-time-good-luck thing going for them and are disasters every time thereafter) you can easily yank it out and put it through your paper shredder.

And when you feel the itch to cook something new, you can turn to your folders and look at what you clipped out. I just opened up my Savory folder and saw perched on the top of the pile a recipe for Tagliatelle with Creme Fraiche and Arugula (from god knows where. Those of you with sourcing issues might have a problem with my organizing system). As I just planted my arugula seeds in my garden yesterday, I'm going to try this recipe when it is time to thin the rows.

I do this exercise about once every four months to liberate the horizontal surfaces in our house from their magazine detritus. Any magazine that hasn't been cut to pieces (maybe just one or two recipes clipped) I take to either the magazine exchange rack at the downtown library or to the magazine rack at the Y. Personally, I love to read a good food magazine while sweating away on an exercise bike. Call it justification for putting all that effort and sweat into going absolutely nowhere.

The mucus blaster

For those of you not currently expelling green gunk from your nose and lungs, the timing of this post may make you scratch your head. After all it is Spring, right? Time to start waxing poetic about watercress soup and the anticipated first peas and asparagus? But I know there are other folks out there afflicted with the dreaded Spring-cold-of-copious-snot and to you I say this "Spicy Hot Chocolate".

We all know that hot peppers (capsicums) make your nose run when eaten in sufficient quantity. And we all know that a good cup of hot chocolate can comfort even the most miserable sick human (provided that the stomach remains stable and thank god this has not been a vomiting sickness or else I would never hear the end of Ian's discussions that throw up shouldn't really be called vomit but chyme. I really don't like being corrected on picky technical terms when I am sick.).

Unfortunately, dairy products can exacerbate mucus formation and when already drowning in the green goo, hot chocolate made with milk and perhaps topped with a blob of whipped cream doesn't sound like such a good idea. However I think I have come up with the hot-chocolate-comfort-vs-mucus-production-conundrum with an antidote.

By combining the following with hot milk (and a little extra sugar because let's be honest, one needs a little extra sugar when sick)
you get spicy hot chocolate and the capsicum from the cayenne pepper actually cuts through any added mucus production that the milk might inspire! Add enough cayenne and you can blast pretty much any nose open (I know, pretty vision, yes?).

My inspiration for this beverage came from this:
Vosges Red Fire Bar with two kinds of chili peppers and cinnamon mixed in dark chocolate. At $6-7 per bar, it isn't a daily indulgence in these parts.

So I've been making myself at least one and sometimes far more than one cup of Spicy Hot Chocolate every day and it has made being sick just a little more tolerable. You don't have to be sick to enjoy this, and being a bit of a junky for spicy food I suspect I'll be sprinkling cayenne pepper into my hot chocolate whenever I get the chance.

Spicy Hot Chocolate

One mug full of hot milk
One heaping spoonful of cocoa or hot chocolate powder (the Ghirardelli sweet ground chocolate and cocoa is my favorite)
Sugar to taste
1/8 t cinnamon
1/8 t cayenne pepper
big gob of whipped cream

Mix together the first 5 ingredients, make sure you stir well. Then top with a poof of cream. Settle back and grab the Kleenex box and let 'er flow!