Earth Day 2010

Note to Self...

When chopping serrano peppers, do not rub your eye, no matter how itchy it is.


Because....... ouch.


On the bright side, my simmered red salsa was delicious.

Braised Short Ribs

Ingredients

Ribs
10 beef short ribs
3 carrots roughly chopped
2 ribs celery roughly chopped
1 head garlic cut in half
1 onion roughly chopped
1 1/2 cups red wine
salt
pepper


Gravy
3 tablespoons butter
1/4 onion finely minced
2 tablespoons flour
1/4 onion minced
pan juices


Directions

Preheat oven to 290 degrees
1. Heat oil in a 5-6 quart cassarole
2. Salt and pepper the ribs and brown in the heated oil. Do so in batches, if necessary, to not crowd the pan.

3. Set ribs aside. Add the onion, celery, carrot, and garlic to the pan and saute until browned.

4. Add the red wine and scrape the pan.
5. Add the ribs back in. Add water to the pan until the liquid comes midway on the ribs.

6. Cover the cassarole and place in the oven. Bake for 2 1/2 hours.
7. Then, uncover and bake for additional 1/2 hour.
8. Remove the ribs. Strain the liquid and skim off as much grease as possible. Set aside strained liquid.

9. Add butter and onion. Cook until onion is translucent.

10. Add the flour and cook for 2 minutes.
11. Add in the reserved pan liquid. Bring to a boil. Check for seasoning.

12. Serve the ribs over mashed potatoes or buttered pasta.

A Man and his Ostrich

A man walks in to a bar,  an ostrich right behind him. As he sits the bartender comes over, and asks for their order.

The man says, "I'll have a beer" and turns to the ostrich. "What'll you have?"

"I'll have a beer, too" says the ostrich.

The bartender pours the two beers and says "That will be $3.40 please." The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out exactly $3.40 and places it on the bar.

The next day, the man and the ostrich come again, and again the man says, "I'll have a beer," and the ostrich says, "And I'll have the same." Once again the man reaches into his pocket, pulls out the exact change, and places it on the bar.

This becomes a routine until, late one evening, the two enter again. "The usual?" asks the bartender.

"Well, it's close to last call, so I'll have a large scotch," says the man.

"Same for me," says the ostrich.

"That will be $7.20," says the bartender. Once again the man pulls exact change out of his pocket and places it on the bar.

The bartender can't hold back his curiosity any longer. "Excuse me sir. How do you manage to always come up with the exact change out of your pocket every time?"

"Well," says the man, "several years ago I was cleaning the attic and I found an old lamp. When I rubbed it, a Genie appeared and offered me two wishes. My first wish was that if I ever had to pay for anything, I just put my hand in my pocket, and the right amount of money will always be there."

"That's brilliant!" says the bartender. "Most people would wish for a million dollars or something, but this way, you'll always be as rich as you want for as long as you live!

"That's right," answered the man. "Whether it's a gallon of milk or a Rolls Royce, the exact money is always there."

The bartender asks, "One other thing, sir. What's with the ostrich?"

The man rolls his eyes and replies, "Oh that. Well, my second wish was for a chick with long legs."

Mushroom Sauce

My friend Tommy asked for the mushroom cream sauce recipe I used the other day. I don't have all of the ingredients I need to make this sauce at the moment, so there will not be any accompanying photos.

*****

Ingredients:

box of sliced button mushrooms

1/2 onion, diced

olive oil

1 cup white wine

2 cups chicken broth

can cream of mushroom soup

1 cup cooked diced chicken

salt

pepper

Directions:

1. Cover the bottom of a saute pan in olive oil and place over medium heat.

2. Saute onions with salt and pepper until translucent.

3. Add in the mushrooms and saute until soft.

4. Add in the wine and simmer until reduced.

5. Add in the cream of mushroom soup and the chicken stock.

6. Cook until creamy.

7. Add in the chicken until it is heated through.

8. If the sauce becomes too thick, you can add in more stock.

9. Serve over pasta of your choice.

Counterfeit Wine, Who'd of Thunk?

Here is a news article I found online at a CBS news site.

Apparently, some wine producers have been purposefully mislabeling their product to foist lesser wines off as expensive ones.

Now, to a schmoob such as myself, there is no difference between a good wine and a lesser one. But did these people really think they could fool the real wine drinkers?

**********

Chardon-nay! Wine industry uncorked by counterfeits

MOREY SAINT DENIS, France -- The challenge of counterfeit wine is threatening to take the fizz out of the industry. As the Pinot noir scandal showed last month, when a dozen wine producers and traders were sentenced by a French court for mislabeling 3.6 million gallons of wine sold to several U.S. wine companies what's behind the label is far from clear.

And the tampering touches the low end of the market as much as the top end.

Pinot noir heaven Burgundy is no exception. Some of its most famous appellations are victim of forgery.
Laurent Ponsot used to be a famous Burgundian wine grower, but now he is an amateur detective too. The story started in April last year, when a friend called him to tell him that one of New York's most energetic fine wine auctioneers was putting under the hammer 107 bottles of one of his most famous vintages. But something wasn't right.

"In that auction there was some Clos St Denis 1945. But we've only been making Clos St Denis since 1982. There was no chance that wine existed. Then tried checked the other bottles on sale that day, and I realized from here in my office that half of them were probably fake," says Ponsot.
Two weeks ago he handed over the bulk of his research to the FBI in New York. Now he can go back to what he does best, making excellent wines.

But to be on the safe side, he decided to apply state of the art technology to protect his bottles, which cost from a hundred euros to a few thousands from forgery.

Five other Burgundy winemakers have followed suit.

The device is a small tag which contains a unique pattern of bubbles, plus a serial number. The consumer can log in the number on the internet and obtain a photo of the bubble tag of that specific bottle. Visually, you can compare the pattern of the bubbles, which is random and unique. This system of authentication, called Prooftag, was invented by chance by a Toulouse firm producing electronic components. The glue started to sizzle up and form random bubbles, and it was realised that this bubble pattern could be used for anti- fraud purposes. To date, 28 chateaux have bought into the technology including Bordeaux Chateau Latour, Burgundy Domaine des Comtes Lafon and Napa Valley Hartwell Estate, to name but a few.

Frank Bourrieris is the marketing director of Prooftag. Asked if the interest of the wine producer in the tag shows the depth of the wine fraud, he says: "It's a difficult question. What I believe is that the stock of fake wine is growing, because a counterfeiter can fake any kind of wine from any year."
"What is dramatic for winemakers is that if they don't take action right now, there might be counterfeit of the wine they are producing today but in ten years, or twenty years, from now".
A 3D tag and more difficult to copy than bar codes, Rfid or holograms, the bubble technology is also currently sold to Swiss watch makers, the cosmetic industry and governments to proof documents. Costs range from 20 cents to one Euro per tag.

Wine experts say fraud is a huge risk.

According to Clive Coates, a master of wine now retired in Burgundy, the extreme rise in price of ultra-premium wines has led to a startling increase in the fraudulent labelling and sale of fake wines.
"Magnums of 1929 Mouton and magnums of Petrus 1982, the sort of things that fetch high prices at auction. And I am quite certain there is a lot of quite dubious bottles there," he says.
"But I think what it boils down to at the end of the day is what I would call caveat emptor, let the buyer beware. It's a silly person who pays silly prices without having done the homework, millionaires who probably cannot tell the difference between Petrus and Romano Conti."

Technology is coming to the rescue of winemakers struggling to protect their vintages from forgery.

A Light Lunch

I thought it would be fun to put together a light lunch on this rainy afternoon.

Cantaloupe, grapes, strawberries, salami, prosciutto, provolone, and crackers.

Yum.

All Aboard!!

A few days after Christmas, a mother was working in the kitchen listening to her young son playing with his new electric train in the living room. She heard the train stop and her son said, "All of you sons of bitches who want off, get the hell off now, cause this is the last stop! And all of you sons of bitches who are getting on, get your asses in the train, cause we're going down the tracks."

The mother was very upset at her son's foul language and told him, "We don't use that kind of language in this house. Now I want you to go to your room and you are to stay there for TWO HOURS. When you come out, you may play with your train, but I want you to use nice language."

Two hours later, the son comes out of the bedroom and resumes playing with his train. When the train stopped, the mother heard her son say, "All passengers who are disembarking from the train, please remember to take all of your belongings with you. We thank you for riding with us today and hope your trip was a pleasant one. We hope you will ride with us again soon." She hears the little boy continue, "For those of you just boarding, we ask you to stow all of your hand luggage under your seat. Remember, there is no smoking on the train. We hope you will have a pleasant and relaxing journey with us today."

As the mother began to smile, the child added, "For those of you who are pissed off about the TWO HOUR delay, please see the bitch in the kitchen." 

Who Says Punctuation Isn't Fun(ny)?

I love seeing signs and such that misuse quotation marks. Sometimes, depending on the words that are quoted, the sign takes on a hilarious and unintended meaning.

So then, they weren't actually brothers?

Perhaps they were more along the lines of kissing cousins, if you know what I mean.

You aren't sorry, are you? Just admit it. We don't need your fake sympathy.

Hmm. So then, just who will be benefitting from my small change?

I think I smell a money laundering operation.

Go ahead. Strike the matches. You know you want to.

And I suggest you keep your car door locked and your valuables with you at all time.

Marie has a secret, doesn't "she"?

The potatoes have been "baked." 

I think they just may have a drug problem.

If they keep that up, they may turn into a vegetable. Oh wait....

Innocent indeed. They are devils, I tell you!

DEVILS!!

Dinner with the Doc

Sausage and Mash

chicken sausage with spinach and feta (from a local family-owned shop)

mashed potatoes

onion gravy

*****

I was in the mood for a little British tonight, but Matt Lucas was otherwise engaged. So I settled for this instead. Hee hee!

*****

By the by, I added a link at the top pointing to some fun and tasty cooking items. Check 'em out if you are bored.

The Butterfly Collection

When I was in high school, I took Honors Biology as a freshman. Now, though I had always done well in school, I struggled with that class, and I attribute my difficulties to the fact that I disliked the teacher. Well to be perfectly honest, I hated her. Her name was Mrs. Rainwater. She was rude and condescending to us all, had no patience, would snap at the class, and wore glasses that were so big, the outside of the rims extended past the edge of her face.

Now, back then, I used to get along with everyone. I was friends with the skaters, the football guys, the cheerleaders, the band geeks, and the theater kids. I also was liked by all of the teachers, except for the Rainwater. She and I butted heads a few times. Once was when I spoke out in class when she was harassing another student.  (Not all of the bullies in school are kids.) Another time was when I refused to participate in the dissection of a cat. She got in my face and said if I didn't participate, I would fail the six week period. I didn't budge, and my good relationship with the principals made sure I didn't fail either.

Well, as part of our end of year project, we were supposed to build two collections. One was a wildflowers of Texas collection and the other was a butterfly collection. I embraced the wildflower project and refused to kill butterflies for a grade.

She didn't even bother to challenge me.

All images found at billtphotoman's photostream

The Abbott and the Visitor

Abbott Sebastian had made it a point for the last 50 years to greet the monks at the abbey in the morning and wish them a good night in the evening. Every morning, the monks would gather in the courtyard at daybreak where the Abbott would chant, "Good morning, good morning." In response, the monks would chant, "Good morning, good morning." And conversely, in the evening, the monks would gather again in the courtyard, the Abbott would chant, "Good evening, good evening," and in response, the monks would respond "Good evening, good evening."

One day, a monk from a neighboring monastery came to study in the abbey's library. When he went out with the other monks in the morning, he heard the Abbott chant, "Good morning, good morning." But when the other monks responded by chanting "good morning", the visiting monk responded, "Good evening, good evening."

The Abbott heard this voice amongst the voices of his monks and knew that there was somebody new in the crowd. So he chanted, "Some monk chanted evening, you must be a stranger!"

Bruschetta with Fresh Tomatoes and Mozzarella

Ingredients

6-7 fresh Roma tomatoes
3 rounds of fresh mozzarella
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon capers, roughly chopped
several basil leaves, shredded
olive oil, about 1/3 cup
balsamic vinegar, about 2 teaspoons
salt
pepper

10 slices of crusty bread (Italian, Ciabatta)
olive oil

Directions

1. Cut the tomatoes in half and remove the seeds. Then, chop the tomatoes into small cubes.

2. Chop the mozzarella into cubes the same size as the tomatoes and add them to the tomatoes.

3. Add the minced garlic, capers, and basil to the tomatoes and mix.

4. Add in the olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

5. Add salt and pepper to taste.

6. Refrigerate the tomato mixture for at least 30 minutes.

7. In the meantime, brush the bread slices with olive oil and place on a hot grill or under a broil until toasty.

7. Spoon the cold tomato mixture onto the hot bread and enjoy.

As always, if anyone tries this recipe, please let me know what you think.

This recipe was tweaked from a recipe I found in a cookbook by Biba Caggiano. I got to meet her and taste her cooking at  a meet and greet I attended years ago. As a gift, we all got autographed Biba cookbooks. Yay!

*************

As an aside, you will notice that I have added some links within some of my posts pointing you to Amazon. I just read an article that said Walmart is making improvements to its website and pushing walmart dot com in an attempt to cut into Amazon's business. I personally do not shop at Walmart and do not like their business practices. And so, I have decided to add a link to Amazon whenever there is a product or such that they have that I happen to be talking about.

I doubt seriously if my efforts are going to bring much extra business to Amazon, but I refuse to sit here and just watch Walmart take on another smaller company.

Roasted Chicken

Ingredients

3 chicken breasts, 1 lb each
9 cloves crushed garlic
canola oil
Poultry Magic (from Chef Paul Prudhomme)



Directions

1.  Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

2.  Line a roasting pan with foil (to save yourself cleaning it later on.)

3.  Place the chicken breasts on top of the crushed garlic.

4.  Rub each breast with canola oil, the oil will help the skin crisp up, and sprinkle the Poultry Magic on as heavily as you desire.

5.  Place the pan in the center of the oven and bake for 55 minutes.

Now, I know that this seems very simple, but sometimes the easiest dishes elude so many of us.
If anyone tries this, or any of the other recipes here, please let me know. I'm interested to see what other people think.

The Keys to the Kingdom: Mister Monday

I am currently reading Lord Sunday, Book 7 from Garth Nix's series The Keys to the Kingdom. I am just about finished with it and thought I would write a small review of the story. But then, I realized that I would be talking about characters and converging plot lines that have roots in other books. So, instead, I shall be reviewing the series starting with Book 1. Yay! Or Boo, I suppose, depending on whether or not you like books.

The first book in the series is titled Mister Monday. In this book, we meet Arthur Penhaligon, a seventh grade student who has just moved to a new school and is asthmatic.  During a severe asthma attack, he sees an odd pair of men appear. One of them, Mister Monday, gives him a metal Key shaped like the minute hand of a clock, and disappears. From that point on, Arthur's life becomes irrevocably changed.

Using the power of his Key, Arthur enters The House, a conglomeration of buildings that exists in another dimension. There, he discovers the Architect of the Universe has disappeared, and the seven trustees she chose to keep track of everything have been warped by their responsibilities. Mister Monday, the Trustee of the Lower House, has been affected by sloth, and as such, has allowed his portion of the House to become mismanaged and the records he stores disorganized.

While Arthur dodges the minions of Mister Monday, who wants Arthur's portion of the Key back, he meets friends such as Suzy Turquoise Blue, a human girl trapped in the House, and Part One of the Will, a portion of The Will of the Architect which spelled out the duties of the Trustees.

With these two companions, Arthur moves about the House getting closer and closer to Mister Monday in an attempt to wrest away the Hour Hand portion of Monday's Key so that he can take control of the Lower House and force the denizens who live there to leave him alone.

The story, and series, features magic, sword play, the seven deadly sins, time travel, friendship, and the theme of responsibility.

I currently have about 850 books in my possession and can honestly say that this series is one of my favorites. If you enjoy well written fantasy, I think you will find this book a lot of fun.

Arsenic and Old Lace

Have I ever related to you the story of how I was almost poisoned by a crazy lady? Now, I don't mean poisoned as in she accidentally gave me old milk; I mean, I know that she intentionally gave me something laced with poison with the intention to kill me.


No, you haven't heard it? Excellent. Then allow me to explain.


Her name was Oralia Silva. (Well no, it actually wasn't, but I am sure you understand that I can't put her real name here, liable and all that, but this name has the same ethnicity and syllables.) She was a small woman standing at about 5' 2' or so, had short black hair, and brown eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled. And I am pretty sure that she lived alone in a house made of gingerbread and candy.


I met her in the summer of '95 when I was working on a special project away from my normal building and coworkers. In fact, there were about 20 of us that had been selected from across the company as being good at what we did and, therefore, perfect for this assignment. We were given temporary workplaces in areas that normally housed other people, but who happened to be away on vacations. Their equipment, desks, etc. were all secured, naturally, but we still had access to most of what we needed. It just so happened that the area I was in was usually occupied by a friend of mine, so he had given me his keys and access codes so that I could use his equipment and materials if I needed. A blessing, you say, since I had access to everything while my temporary coworkers had to do without? Not exactly, for this is how my battles with Oralia Silva began.


It was the first day of our new assignment and I was sitting at my desk trying to map out everything I had to do over the next 4 weeks. I had already taken a couple of simple pieces of equipment out in preparation of a presentation I was going to give the next day. My head was down and I was completely focused on the task at hand when my concentration was broken by my door opening and closing. I looked up to see Oralia Silva standing in my room with a huge smile on her face. Though she was facing me, her eyes were darting about the room, looking at the materials I had out.


Now, I had only met her very briefly that morning and, must admit, I was not impressed. But there you are. I wasn't in charge of hiring.


"Can I help you, Ms. Silva?" I asked. I would like to say that I addressed her politely, but the truth is she was bothering me and I made no secret of that fact.


"Maaaaaaaandragore," she said. (Not my real name, but the syllables are the same.)


"Yes?" I asked again.


"I don't have one of those transparency machines," she said.


"Transparency machines?" I asked. "You mean the machines that make transparencies? You make them in the photocopier," I said with more than a bit of exasperation in my voice. (I fear I was rather impatient in my younger days.)


"No," she pouted. "The transparency machines!" she said more loudly, as if that would help me understand her gibberish. "The machine that shows the transparencies!"


Suddenly, I understood what she meant. "You mean the overhead projector? This belongs to my colleague, and he left it out for me to use."


"Well, I want one of those," she said, smiling that weird smile of hers again. I swear, she looked like a toad when she smiled, her thin-lipped mouth wide and glistening with slime. She also had the habit of nodding her head after asking for something, as if her actions could will me to nod in assent along with her. It truly was a disconcerting sight.


"I am afraid I can't help you, Ms. Silva," I answered, and I went back to my notes. She stood there silently for a moment or so before saying, "Mandragore, I am talking to you," in a soft voice.


Cringing inwardly, I slapped my mechanical pencil down on my desk, swiveled towards her in  my chair, and said, "What is it you need, Ms. Silva?" in a friendly voice dripping with insincerity.


She quite correctly took offense at my cheek and said, "Well, nothing now," and flounced out of my room.


These ridiculous conversations went on and on for the entire four weeks we worked together, with her continuously asking for supplies, both big and small, because she went completely unprepared. Pencils, erasers for the electronic display board, transparency sheets, books, the overhead, etc. She wanted it all and got nothing from me. And each time she asked, she had that odd smile on her face, her head bobbing  hypnotically.


Well, it was the last day we were together. I had one last presentation to give before I could pack up my materials and go back to my normal routine and was looking forward to never seeing that place or those people again. Just as I was about to walk out of my door, in come Ms. Silva, a huge grin on her face.


"Maaaaaaaandragore," she said, he black eyes glinting, "I made you a breakfast taco."


"A taco?" I asked. I have to admit that I was rather thrown by this unexpected and unwelcomed gesture.


"Yes, a taco," she said, smiling and nodding like a possessed bobblehead. "I made you egg with chili," she continued as she unwrapped a foil packet. I could see that there were two tacos inside.


"Well, that was very nice of you, Ms. Silva," I answered and reached for the taco closest to me.


"No, not that one," she said as she jerked her hand back. She turned the packet around so that the other taco was now closest to me and said, "This one."


Immediately, my paranoid self reared its head, whispering to me to run, and run fast.


"Um, ok," I said as I reached for the indicated breakfast taco.


She smiled happily, said that I was welcome, and left my room.


I took a bite out of the taco and my mouth was immediately assailed by a hot numbness like I had never felt before. I spit the food out of my mouth and opened the tortilla to see what was inside. There on the tortilla was a pile of egg covered in an oddly green sauce. Now, as a Hispanic, I have seen, made, and eaten a variety or salsas, but this concoction was new to me. I sniffed it. There was a spicy sourness to the salsa but nothing that screamed of danger. But let's be serious, what exactly does poison smell like? So, I threw the taco in the trash and continued what I was doing.


About a half hour later, she tracked me down, her mouth stretched wide in her typical grin.


"Did you eat it? Did you eat the whole thing?" she asked as her head nodded up and down faster than usual. I can only assume it was due to the thrill of a kill.


"Yes. Yes, I did," I lied. "It was good."


And then she sort of hopped up and down and clapped her hands. "Oh good," she trilled, and rushed off. I can only assume it was to stoke the flames in her oven back at the Gingerbread Homestead.


I managed to evade her the rest of the day, and when I was finally able to leave, I grabbed my box of materials and got out of there as fast as I could.


I told my coworkers about what had happened, but they only laughed at my telling and retelling of the story (I have a tendency to embellish stories to make them funnier, you see) and refused to believe that my life was ever in danger.


However, let me just warn you now. If you ever meet up with a small Hispanic woman named Oralia who offers you green sauced tacos, I suggest you run, and run fast.

A New Beginning

First of all, let me say that I apologize to everyone for my rambling posts lately. I've allowed my current personal difficulties to completely overtake my thoughts, and this has translated to nastiness. It doesn't help any that I've also returned to settling my nerves with alcohol in the evenings.

So, I am going to spend the day restructuring Sine Logicum, deleting all the weirdness and most of the picture posts. I want to return to fun and food, focusing on simple short stories, book discussions, and recipes that people can try.

After all, I started this blog originally as a means to take my mind off of my troubles, not a place to air them. Thanks to everyone for sticking around, you can look forward to some better stuff here.

Dr M

Dinner with the Doc

Fettuccine with chicken and mushrooms in a mushroom cream sauce

Monsters in the Air

There are monsters in the air tonight. I can feel them peering in the windows and can sense them scratching at the wooden doors, the sound just beyond my hearing, but felt in my bones. Though I can't see them, I know they are there.

Some of them are well known to me, souls I have disappointed, their spirits returning to remind me that I am lost. Others are the echos of promises I have failed to keep, responsibilities I let fall by the wayside. Others are shadows of loved ones staring at me, though I cannot see them in return. I can feel their displeasure, the heat of their anger, the chill of their scorn. Perhaps most frightening to me are the shadows in the air because I don't know what they are. They follow me around. I catch brief glimpses of them out of the corner of my eye. They dart in and out of rooms. They even leave peculiar scents in the air, making me aware of their presence with the smell of smoke. I can move to another area of the house, but within moments, the acrid smell returns. Though I can't see them, the stench of smoke is, and I know they are there.

But what are they? Who are they? What do they want with me?

I can't help but think that these are not from my past or my present, as the other monsters are, but represent something from the future. Perhaps they are tormentors yet to be met, the chains and bars that will be holding me back, locking me away from happiness and freedom, the doubt and hatred that will be cast my way to warp me beyond recognition. Or perhaps they are shadows of myself come back in time to find me, their gold to make me aware that my future will be filled with the destruction of all I hold dear, leaving behind the stench of burnt dreams and aspirations. For, though I am hoping for the best, deep down, I know that I will not travel this path unscathed.

The shadows flit about me, the door almost vibrates ever so slightly, and the unseen eyes almost glitter at the windows.

There are monsters in the air tonight, and I don't now how to dispel them. Does anyone?

Dinner with the Doc

Oven roasted chicken

garlic mashed potatoes

seasoned and buttered broccoli

homemade biscuits

Dinner with the Doc

For want of a real post, here is what I made for dinner tonight.

Short ribs braised in red wine and garlic

mashed potatoes

creamed spinach