The day started with me spending about an hour swatting spam comments on Ye Olde Blog (frakking bustards), then boiling rice and chopped meat (not for personal consumption; it seems that New Dog had come with, and now has passed to Old Dog, um, "digestive issues"!). Now, I've cleaned the fish tank, I am ready to get cleaned up, finish one military history, maybe start another.

In the meantime, I put on a pot of beans.

The recipe comes from The El Paso Chili Company's Texas Border Cookbook (W. Park Kerr and Norma Kerr). This is one of those cookbooks that I will probably wear out, it has a number of dishes that I make again and again. Their pot beans (Frijoles de Olla) is a favorite that leads to other dishes such as Well-Fried Beans (Frijoles Refritos) as well as being put into various pots of chili.

The author's point out that this is comfort food on several levels. The cooking process is long, but relaxes you. It's nice to know you've got a pot simmering, or waiting for you in the refrigerator. And it is nice to make a batch of frijoles refritos, put them into tortillas with some cheese and maybe some meat, freeze them, and bring them to work for several months afterwards.

Good eats!

I'd love to visit this restaurant. Several times. The cookbook, as I said, is excellent. The only problem I've found is that living in the nether regions, I often have to send away for ingredients or substitute. Things are getting easier, but you still occasionally run across something that causes you to scratch your head. more...

Posted by: Fred Kiesche at 08:36 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Grilled cheese. Toasted cheese. Comfort food. Hmmmm...toasted cheese.

A toasted cheese contest!

And...toasted cheese in literature.

'Killick! Killick, there! Bear a hand.'

Killick's voice could be heard coming nearer: 'No peace, no bleeding peace in this barky,' and as the door opened, 'Sir?'

'Toasted cheese for the Doctor, half a dozen mutton-chops for me, and a couple of bottles of the Hermitage. D'ye hear me there? Now, Stephen, give me an A.'

They tuned their strings, that pleasant tentative wailing, and as they tuned he said, 'What do you say to our old Corelli in C major?'

'With all my heart,' said Stephen, poising his bow. He paused, and fixed Jack's eye with his own: they both nodded: he brought the bow down and the cello broke into its deep noble song, followed instantly by the piercing violin, dead true to the note. The music filled the great cabin, the one speaking to the other, both twining into one, the fiddle soaring alone: they were in the very heart of the intricate sound, the close lovely reasoning, and the ship and her burdens faded far, far from their minds.

(Patrick O'Brian, Desolation Island)

Posted by: Fred Kiesche at 08:45 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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