Nine Bean Soup Mix
I don’t think of this one as being a recipe so much as a craft project. Put it in a pretty canning jar with a square of fabric between the flat part of the lid and the outside ring, add a ribbon, and there you go. Bean art.
1 (14-ounce) package barley
1 (16-ounce) package dried red beans
1 (16-ounce) package dried pinto beans
1 (16-ounce) package uncooked lentils
1 (16-ounce) package dried black-eyed peas
1 (16-ounce) package dried black beans
1 (16-ounce) package dried navy pea beans
1 (16-ounce) package dried great Northern beans
1 (16-ounce) package dried green split peas
Combine all ingredients in a large bowl. Store in an airtight container.
Yield: 19 cups
writeNutrient();Anna T. Rucker, Norfolk, Virginia
writePublicationAppearance();Southern Living, NOVEMBER 1999
Shoe Bonding
I don’t get this thing about women bonding while shopping. I’ve seen it in a variety of Romance novels, and I still don’t get it. I don’t bond with friends while shopping. I lose them.
Seriously, I don’t like hitting the department stores and boutiques have a tendency to snob me out. Unless you’re talking second-hand, and I’m talking Goodwill here, not Retro Fashions, you aren’t going to catch me buying clothing let alone shoes.
Yet I have managed to bond with my mother over shoes. So has my daughter. Not from BUYING them with her, from stealing them from her.
I don’t generally have nice shoes around. I live in my crocs, clogs, running shoes, and hiking boots. What more could a girl need? Someone to borrow from on New Years Eve.
Mom gave me a ton of shoes she no longer wears. I’m thinking I need to give a couple pair back, just so I can steal them next time I visit.
What about you? Do you bond over shopping? What is that about, anyway?
Alice
Send This "Email" on to All Your Friends…
… or else.
Don’t you hate the garbage some people insist on putting at the bottom of an otherwise cute email in which they say dire things will happen if you don’t send it on? I do. Which is why I get a kick out of this one:
http://info.org.il/irrelevant/may02-smilepop-soapbox4.swf
Alice
Suzie’s House 27: The Taste of Defeat
“Cloves?” Suzie tried not to sound strangled, but her throat closed down over the taste of spaghetti sauce with enough cloves to coat a ham roast. A large one. The flavor of cloves, tomato, and hamburger shouldn’t have been so devastating, but every part of her from tongue to toe revolted against the sweet, numbing peculiarity of it. “Couldn’t you find the garlic?”
Vin’s jaw closed with an audible clack. He looked like he couldn’t decide if he should laugh, cry, or throw up. Drew set his fork down slowly.
Suzie looked down at her plate with a sense of despair. How was she going to choke down the whole thing? She had barely managed to actually swallow the first bite. With a palpable sense of anticipation she joined the other two in watching Miranda take her first bite of the stuff.
Miranda blanched. She choked, wheezed, then grabbed up her napkin to spit the concoction out. “Gah! That is the worst tasting spaghetti I’ve ever had!”
Everyone started laughing. Suzie set her fork down with an overwhelming sense of relief. If Miranda couldn’t eat the stuff, surely she didn’t expect anyone else to.
Vin laughed so hard he ended up with his face on the table, his plate shoved far toward the middle. He kept pounding the table with his open palm and hiccupping tight little guffaws. Tears streamed from his eyes. Suzie didn’t think it was THAT funny.
“At least the noodles are good,” Miranda said in a small voice. She looked at Vin with a deepening blush. As his face was turned the other way, he was oblivious to her distress.
“I don’t understand,” Drew said. “what makes it taste so… so…. What did you put in it, Miranda?”
“Suzie said spices. So I put in cinnamon and cloves.”
“I had no idea how hideous spaghetti could taste with cloves. I like to think I’m an adventurous eater, but that was… alien!” Vin’s eyes widened. He pulled himself off the table and wiped at his eyes, still grinning.
“I should have made Alien From the Backyard,” Miranda muttered.
Suzie eyed her narrowly. How did Miranda know about that recipe? Suzie had invented it for Ben when he was only seven or eight and hadn’t used it since he started middle school. It was their own little secret. The only place in the world it existed was… “You didn’t get into my recipe file, did you?” She couldn’t have, or she’d have used the spaghetti sauce recipe. Wouldn’t she? No, because Suzie had leant it to Cindy, one of their neighbors.
Suzie tossed her napkin to the table. “Come on,” she growled, grabbing at Miranda’s arm as she rounded the dining room table, headed for the kitchen. “Let me show you the easy way to do it.”
“Oh God,” Miranda said as soon as they entered the kitchen. “I’ll never live this down.”
“Not if I can help it,” Suzie muttered. Considering all the times Miranda wouldn’t let her live down little mistakes, she thought it only fair to keep this memory fresh for a while. Besides, “Next time you intend to go through my recipe file, ask permission.”
Miranda gulped eyes wide. “Suzie, I am sooooo sorry. I only poked through it for a minute. I was desperate! It’s not like you have a ton of recipe books, you weren’t home, and I wanted to get tonight’s meal right. I really wanted it to be good.”
“Well, it was memorable,” Suzie conceded. “Look.” She opened the freezer and took out a Pyrex container of pre-cooked spaghetti sauce. “I make my spaghetti sauce in batches, then freeze portions. You can pop them out of the containers into a pan and cook until it all melts or put them in the microwave. A block this big will feed all of us.” She put the container back, and took out a couple of one-cup sized containers. “But let’s use these two tonight because they will warm faster in the microwave than the bigger one.” She put one in the microwave and set it for five minutes.
“You mean all I had to do was heat it up?” Miranda looked horrified.
“That’s right.”
“Oh God.” She flopped into a chair and covered her face. “I didn’t have to make a fool of myself at all. If I’d known it was in there…”
“Oh come on, Miranda. It wasn’t that bad.”
Miranda glared at her.
“Ok, you’re right. It was pretty bad. But it could have been worse. It only tasted weird. It’s not like you poisoned us.”
“I wish mine was poisoned. How will I ever face… any of you…” Miranda glanced toward the door into the dining room through the butler’s pantry, where the men could be seen sitting at the table. Vin seemed awfully full of himself.
“Did Vin say something about your cooking before dinner?”
“No,” Miranda stared at her long, glossy nails, which traced patterns on the kitchen table. “Why would he?”
“No reason.” The microwave dinged. Spaghetti sauce bubbled merrily over the sides of the container. Suzie put it on a plate. She leaned into the door way. “Drew! Would you mind?” She held up the plate.
“Is that YOUR sauce?” Drew eagerly hurried into the kitchen.
“Yes. You and Vin eat this. Miranda and I will be out with another in a few minutes.”
“Thanks.” Draw’s voice was a little too grateful, considering how Miranda slumped in her chair.
“Miranda, come here. I want to show you something.”
Miranda dutifully shuffled over to where Suzie held the freezer door open. “This is pre-cooked lasagna.” Suzie pointed to several packages. “You see there is plenty of spaghetti sauce. Here’s a selection of some of my better soups. There’s the fish sticks Ben likes. Instructions are on the package. These ones in the green lids are all casserole. That’s pre-cooked chicken. And look, a frozen pizza. You’re welcome to serve any of this whenever you want to.”
Miranda looked at her with something close to worship in her eyes.
“Thank you, Suzie. I owe you.”
“Yes, you do.” Suzie said. “And here is something else you should know about.” She opened a cupboard. The second shelf was full of recipe books.
Miranda looked suitability chastened.
“Bring in the spaghetti sauce from the microwave, will you?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Miranda jumped to it.
Suzie took the recipe file off the shelf and headed for her office. Apparently she was going to have to keep it under lock and key. The recipes in the file weren’t replaceable.
The previous was Suzie’s House 26: The New Chef
This is Suzie’s House 27: The Taste of Defeat
Next is Suzie’s House 28: Hey Babe
Did You Miss Me?
I sure missed you. Between one thing and another I was unable to get online for two days. That in spite of having three computers in the house! If I hadn’t set the Monday recipe to post automatically, I’d have missed it. As it was I couldn’t get here to fix it when it didn’t work. Not that I know how to fix it even now.
I’m still piecing together my desktop, but I haven’t lost anything I miss yet. Hopefully everything will be fine from now on.
To those who ran off to a certain convention, welcome back! I’ve been hanging around your blogs, enjoying the show and wishing I could be there with you.
Alice
Tudor Follies: Teaching the Howards a Lesson
My sincere apologies for the delay in posting Tudor Tuesday this week. It’s been a rough few days around here. But my computer is back out of the shop and here’s Mr. Al’s history lesson for the week.
***
Because so little of what Katherine was doing was of her own choice, the hand of the Duke was much more in evidence. Cranmer saw it plain as day. Yessiree, he saw through the Duke’s plans and he was going to teach the Duke a lesson. A Bill of Attainder against Katherine was submitted to Parliament in January 1542. With Henry’s help, it was rammed through both houses so that Katherine could be judicially murdered ASAP. That would show that o’l Duke! Henry went to the Commons to thank those gentlemen for being so concerned for his happiness. I swear to God I’m not making this up. Henry went to the Commons to thank them for giving him the green light to murder his illiterate teenage wife.
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Katherine seemed resigned to her fate. She blamed herself for everything and repeatedly stated that she deserved to die. That is, until members of the Privy Council, including her uncle, arrived at Syon Abbey, where she had been confined, to take her to the Tower. It was then that she fully realized that Henry really would kill her. She lost it. She had to be restrained and hauled to the waiting barge.
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The barge was closed so she wouldn’t be gawked at by the crowds. This was just as well because she could hardly have missed the heads of Dereham and Culpeper on London Bridge as they passed under it. She was in a semi-hysterical state until the night before her execution. At that point she calmed down enough to request the chopping block be brought to her room. So she could practice setting her head into it. She wanted to make a good impression on the crowd.
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On Monday morning, February 13, 1542, Katherine Howard went to the block. After a short speech in which she said that she deserved to die because of all the sinful, slutty things she had done in her life, the executioner removed her head with one chop of his ax. She was seventeen. Lady Rochford followed immediately after. Because she remained utterly panic stricken, Henry had to pass a special law allowing for the execution of crazy people.
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It took Henry two whole weeks to get over Katherine. To make sure there would be no more Katherine’s, a law was passed making it a capital offense not to tell the king of any naughty behavior on the part of a potential wife that involved persons might be aware of. During this time the good Duke of Norfolk remembered he had business on some land far, far from London. He was ordered to return. He begged off on the grounds that he had a tummy-ache. Oh well, at least there were some Howards near London that were not so fleet of foot.
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Every Howard Cranmer could get his hands on went to the Tower. Including some that were out of the country during the whole affair. The Governor of Calais was just such a fellow. He had never even met Katherine. Cranmer ordered him to return to London. Once there, he was stripped of his titles, money, property and arrested. Even the Duchess went into the Tower. Eventually, they were all released, but not before all of their property had been confiscated.
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And the Duke? He kept his title, his properties, his money, everything. He was even allowed to return to court. Henry never did trust him again, but hey, it was just business. Yes, and a sad business at that. What Henry needed to buck up his flagging spirits was another wife! Maybe, God willing, one who could keep her mouth shut and her legs together. Except, of course, when royal duty called.
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The Council brought the matter up from time to time. Henry agreed with the logic of it. It was good for the Tudor line after all. But poor Henry was feeling decidedly ill-used by the institution of Holy Matrimony. Still, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. The wife hunt began again. The Council faced the same problem it had before. A very acute shortage of princesses willing to marry Henry.
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Fortunately for them, Henry himself had found the girl of his dreams! She wasn’t as young as the others had been, but she wasn’t that old either. She was good looking, apparently acceptable in the hooter department and astoundingly intelligent. Her background was without blemish. Not a whiff of untoward behavior and…She was a stylish dresser, an accomplished dancer of some note and…A firm supporter of Henry’s church reforms! Too bad she was already married. She was also horrified to discover that Henry had his eye on her. Her name was Katherine Parr.
***
Thank you Mr. Al. We even managed to post this on a Tuesday. Just the wrong end of Tuesday.
Alice
Drying Manual
Looky what I found:
http://aliceaudrey.files.wordpress.com/2007/07/drying_manual.pdf
That’s my “recipe” for the day.
Alice
Kissing the Blarney Stone
How do you make yourself write? I don’t need to know for myself. At this late stage in the game I’m pretty comfortable with writer’s block and getting around it. I need to know so I have something worth saying to those who are suffering.
When you have something to write about, but it may not be real clear yet, and you have the time, and the word processor is launched with a blank page waiting, how do you get over the lets-sharpen-the-pencil-one-more-time hurdle?
I do it by mentally kissing the Blarney stone. Not that I imagine myself held by my ankles over a castle wall. Knowing my imagination the next thing I’d visualize is the landing when the people holding my ankles gave out.
What I do is think about the way it feels to be chatty. I spent most of my childhood as a chatterbox. It’s easy to remember the pleasant vibration in my chest, the joy of forming words with lips and tongue, and the strange other-space my mind would occupy while going on and on about the metaphysics of bubble gum.
I visualize it, then wish for it, then channel it through my fingers. Suddenly coming up with words isn’t so hard anymore.
I’m sure not everyone is so talkative. So what do you do to get through that odd little barrier between about to write and writing?
Alice
Suzie’s House 26: The New Chef
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Miranda had a cast iron skillet on the stove with hamburger and tomato sauce bubbling away when Suzie walked in the door. Miranda could have swooned with relief. She’d been on the brink of giving up on her attempt at dinner, but she really, really did not want to order pizza again. She wanted to surprise Vin with her ability to produce an edible meal.
.
“It smells, um… interesting. What are you making?” Suzie set her purse down with a thump.
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“Spaghetti and meatballs. Does this look right?” Miranda shifted to the side, making room for her best friend and potential rescuer.
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Suzie glanced in the pan and raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t find a pot to cook it in?”
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“You’re supposed to use a pot?”
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Suzie nodded. “It needs some seasoning.” She reached toward the spice rack with one hand and the hot pad with the other.
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“I can do it!” Miranda might have sounded a little testy. Give Suzie half a chance and she’d take over.
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“Fine.” Suzie shoved the hot pad into Miranda’s hands, then bent over and removed some pots from the cupboard. “You should get the water started for the spaghetti. It takes a while time to bring that much water to boil.”
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“What took you so long?” Miranda took the pot from Suzie and put it in the sink. “I thought you were only dropping off Ben’s lunch. And where’s Ben?”
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“It didn’t take me so long. And Ben is spending the night with his father. He has visitation.” Suzie yanked open a drawer.
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Miranda pushed it closed. “Suzie, what’s wrong?”
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“Nothing!”
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“Don’t tell me nothing. I know better.” Miranda waved a tomato-tipped, wooden spoon at her. “Is it something to do with Ben? Is he all right? He hasn’t been shot or anything, has he?”
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“No, not the kind of trouble we were worried about.” Suzie dropped into a chair. “It’s his English teacher. She stopped me in the hall and dragged me into an empty classroom to talk to me. Ben is getting a D.”
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Miranda looked on, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
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“Didn’t you hear me? He’s getting a D!”
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“Yeah. So?”
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“He’s never gotten anything lower than a B in his life. This isn’t like him. Not at all.”
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“He isn’t infallible you know. He’s just a kid.” Miranda glanced at the recipe file on the counter behind Suzie, noticed a corner hanging off the edge and prayed Suzie wouldn’t notice. She’d felt sacrilegious looking through it.
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“Why didn’t he tell me?” Suzie’s voice rose to a wail.
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“Shhhh! You’ll wake Vin.”
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Suzie ran her fingers over her hair. Looking hurt and miserable. “I don’t know what to do.” She sounded lost, shaking her head in short, tight motions.
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“Oh get over it, Suzie! Bad grades aren’t the worst thing that could happen. I mean, he’s alive, right? No one tried to shoot him today? I mean, think about it.”
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Suzie sighed. She shoved herself to her feet. “You’re right. I’m over reacting. It’s just….” She shook her head. “I worry.”
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Miranda chuckled. To say Suzie worried was an understatement. Suzie had always worried, all the way back to when they were kids and Miranda had taught her to swim. She’d worried about the chlorine in the pool, and the other kids peeing, about how deep and how cold the water was. Suzie worried like other people breathed.
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Motherhood hadn’t improved it.
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“How’s Vin doing?”
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“He’s been sleeping most of the day. I changed his bandages. The wound looks good.” Actually, it looked horrible, all red and puckered. But it wasn’t infected, so there was no need to make Suzie worry about it.
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“I’ll check on him.” Suzie shuffled off toward the living room, looking defeated more than tired.
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“Wait!”
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Suzie turned around, waiting patiently for some explanation. Miranda shifted her body to keep Suzie from seeing the recipe file on the counter. It had contained things like Alien from the Backyard and Quick Mix, but no spaghetti sauce.
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“Which spices am I supposed to use?”
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“Anything. Just grab a few things from the rack over there and toss them in.”
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To Miranda’s relief and consternation, Suzie walked out of the room.
The previous was Suzie’s House 25: The Times, They Are A Changing
This is Suzie’s House 26: The New Chef
Next is Suzie’s House 27: The Taste of Defeat
Vote for Newcomb
You all know that ChrisJournal is an alumnus of Newcomb College, right? Well Newcomb needs some help, and you can be a part of it.
Right now there is a news station doing a feature on an historic site that WE chose. Anyone can vote. Just click on the “survey” link in the middle of the web page here. Then vote for Newcomb.
It means a lot to ChrisJournal.
Alice
More Jackson
For some reason I have travel on my mind. So why not throw a few more pictures of my recent travels on my blog?
Looks Like I finally figured out what was wrong with the pictures I tried to post last week. I can thank Donna for guiding me the right direction, all be it unintentionally. I was doing exactly the same thing that gave her problems on her blog.
Jackson MT is in a place called the Big Hole. Around here we say it “the-Bighole.” Normally this time of year it could be looking a bit dry. Not this year. Check it out.
Why do they call it the Big Hole? Because it’s a big, flat, high plateau with mountains all around. We’re talking 7,000 feet above sea level at the lower elevations. Could be up to 11,000 around the peaks.
And this picture?
It wasn’t raining when I went through Jackson Montana. It was bug-splattering.
Alice
Have a Nice Convention, Ladies
To everyone who is off to the RWA convention, have a wonderful time. By now a fair number of you are already in the air, winging your way to Texas. I wish you happy-networking and wonderful inspiration gathering. Suzie and I will be waiting here when you get back.
.
Alice
Tudor Folley's: Feeding Katherine Howard To The Wolves
Welcome back to Mr. Al’s take on the life and times of Henry the VIII’s wives, what little they tended to have at any rate. We left off with a young bride accused. And now, in the immortal words of Mr. Al:
***
Henry had brought to Parliament, in it’s role as Supreme Court, the matter of Katherine’s “abominable behavior.” This was extremely bad news for Katherine. Henry was not going to be satisfied with an annulment. He wanted a divorce. Or worse. It did not take long to seal Katherine’s fate. Lady Rochford, her trusted lady in waiting, provided the evidence. Before Katherine moved to the country Cranmer had Rochford taken to the tower. Just a formality, a few routine questions. But don’t wait up for her, your Majesty.
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Rochford collapsed like a house of cards. She told Cranmer about Dereham and Culpeper. Names, dates, everything she thought Cranmer wanted to hear. Katherine was a slut, a whore, no better than a dog in heat. Dear Lady Rochford was making stories up in a bid to save herself. After unburdening her conscience, she was asked if she would swear that everything she had just told them was true.
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She did.
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Did she understand that the sex acts constituted treason on the part of the men?
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She did.
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Was she aware that the punishment for High Treason was horrible in the extreme?
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She was.
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And that, according to her own statements, Katherine had tried to hide her immoral activities by meeting her lovers in her Ladyship’s room? With no one present but the lovers and her Ladyship?
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Um…yes, that’s what she said.
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And that these meetings were arranged, well in advance, by her ladyship for the purpose of facilitating the immoral behavior of the Queen. And the treasonous behavior of the men involved?
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Her ladyship felt the questioner was rather overstating the case, but she sorta said something that kinda sounded like that.
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And did her ladyship realize that anyone facilitating an act of High Treason was a co-conspirator if that person was aware the act was treasonous but did not report it?
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Lady Rochford was ordered back to the Tower, her sentencing a mere formality. She was dead meat on a stick. Figuratively and literally.
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Just to make sure all was neat and tidy, Cranmer had Culpeper and Dereham sign their confessions while they were still capable of doing so. The Council condemned them to a traitor’s death. Culpeper went first. Members of the court asked Henry to commute Culpeper’s sentence to simple decapitation. No point in setting a precedent for people of Good Family to die horribly. It was bad enough that the Lesser Sorts were being allowed to watch the spectacle.
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Dereham, on the other hand, was just the sort of fellow who needed to be made an example of. He got the full program. The London crowd was thrilled. Both heads were set on London Bridge. Considering all the fuss that so many people had gone to reach this point, it’s worth taking a moment to consider Katherine’s position.
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She didn’t have one. She was a Queen who exercised very little power. She married a man she didn’t understand. A man who may or may not have loved her, but most certainly now wanted her dead. As a person, she held no importance at all. She was just a girl who was now in the way of the grown-ups plans. Men wanted her dead not because they hated her, it was just business. Men used her sexually because she was attractive and they could get away with it. They used her politically because it was to their profit and advantage to do so. And also because she was too ignorant to realize what they were up to. Of all the adults who exploited Katherine Howard, none was guiltier than the Duke of Norfolk.
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As with Anne Boleyn, The Duke maneuvered Katherine into a position within the Queen’s household that would get her noticed by Henry. Unlike Anne, who already had extensive experience in court behavior, not to mention the ambition to become queen, Katherine needed a great deal of prepping. The Duke was happy to do it. As with Anne, when it was time to feed her to the wolves, he couldn’t push her into the pit fast enough. This time, however, there was a difference.
.
***
Tune in next week to find out what the difference was. Thank you Mr. Al.
Alice
Creamy Sweet Potato Soup
The thing I really like about magazines like Cooking Light, which is where this came from, is the little paragraph at the bottom. They give us a dietary lable for home made food. Now and then, when I’m actually counting calories, I really appreciate the info.
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2 cups (1/4-inch) cubed peeled sweet potato
1 1/2 cups thinly sliced leek (about 1 medium)
1 1/4 cups fat-free chicken broth, divided
2/3 cup evaporated skim milk
1 1/2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon salt
Dash of white pepper
Dash of ground nutmeg
Chopped leek (optional)
Combine sweet potato, sliced leek, and 1/4 cup broth in a 1 1/2-quart casserole; stir well. Cover, and microwave at HIGH 10 minutes, stirring after 5 minutes. Place sweet potato mixture in a blender or food processor; process until smooth. Add remaining ingredients except chopped leek; process 30 seconds or until blended. Garnish with chopped leek, if desired. Serve warm.
Yield: 4 servings (serving size: 3/4 cup)
writeNutrient();NUTRITION PER SERVING
CALORIES 136(3% from fat); FAT 0.5g (sat 0.1g,mono 0.1g,poly 0.2g); PROTEIN 5g; CHOLESTEROL 2mg; CALCIUM 162mg; SODIUM 416mg; FIBER 2.5g; IRON 1.3mg; CARBOHYDRATE 27.2g
Alice
Out To Lunch – Taking a Weekend Off
I have nothing to say, and no desire to come up with something. Some days are like that, you know. So I’m giving myself permission to bug out for the weekend. The only thing I’m going to post between now and Monday is to plant my operation photos somewhere among my old posts. That should be fun.
Alice
