Poem of The Week

When we try to pick out anything by itself we find it hitched to everything in the universe

˜ John Muir

syllogisms are toe - shoes of the mind
finger snaps are the coming storm
nametags are like unicycles
at a party, I'm the missing sock
a toe circling in sand is like a raised eyebrow
a fig is like a pregnant woman
my heart is a hammer
the crook of your arm - a silk scarf
After it all, your eyes were stones
dogs on roller skates are like toddlers on tippy toes
Even when things are different, they're still alike

by Cristina Paul

Preserved Lemons

when life gives you lemons... preserve them!

INGREDIENTS:
LEMONS - lots of them
1/4 cup coarse salt

DIRECTIONS:
Scrub two large lemons under cold running water and pat them dry. Cut lemons into eight wedges (or you may slice them into thick circles) and toss with coarse salt. Place salted lemons in a sterilized glass jar with a lid. Pour enough fresh lemon juice into the jar to cover the lemons (you will require many lemons for this part), and seal it tightly. Let lemons stand at room temperature for 7-10 days, shaking and turning the jar over once a day to redistribute the contents. Rinse the salted lemons and use them immediately, or cover them with oil and store them in the refrigerator for several weeks. Slice and serve them in salads or add them to fish and meat dishes. They are also a great surprise in a cocktail!

*Preserved lemons are popular in certain parts of the Mediterranean and they're also a very easy and handsome gift.

Blah-Blah-Blahg: Food For Nought

After a summer of warm travel destinations...

first is first

Today, I saw a baby hummingbird
A stranger marvels, “No”
“that’s a hummingbird moth”
(… ! …)
Oh to be wrong, and the delirium of discovery increases

by Cristina Paul

Pickled Nectarines

If you like spicier pickles, use a 2 inch piece of ginger root instead of just 1 inch. 12 apricots can also be substituted in this recipe.

INGREDIENTS:
6 medium fresh nectarines
1 1/4 cup cider vinegar
1 cup water
1 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 cinnamon stick
1 - inch piece fresh ginger root, peeled and cut in strips
½ teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper
1 small sweet onion, halved and thinly sliced

DIRECTIONS:
1. Quarter and pit nectarines; set aside.

2. For pickling mixture, combine water, vinegar, sugars, cinnamon, gingerroot, salt and red pepper in a Dutch oven. Bring to boiling, stirring to dissolve sugars. Reduce heat. Simmer, uncovered, 5 minutes.

3. Add nectarines and onion to pickling mixture; return to boiling. Reduce heat; simmer, covered, 3 minutes or just until tender, gently stirring once or twice. Discard cinnamon stick. With slotted spoon, divide nectarines and onion evenly among two clean 1-quart jars. Pour pickling mixture into jars; cool. Cover and refrigerate at least 24 hours or up to 3 weeks. Serve nectarines with a slotted spoon and drizzle with a little of the juices. These pickles taste great as an accompaniment to cheese, on top of a burger, and alongside grilled meats.

***Before filling the jars, wash them in hot soapy water and rinse thoroughly. Pour boiling water in and over the jars and let them stand in the hot water until ready to fill. The pickled nectarines are stored in canning jars, but are not processed as canned. Therefore, keep refrigerated and eat within 3 weeks.

Recipe by Cristina Paul

Blah-Blah-Blahg: Food For Nought

According to Vonnegut, "traveling is dancing for the soul". But long distance flights can also be a preview to menopause - the plane flying through Little Thailands of the skies one hour and coasting through toe-chilling Siberias in the clouds the next. The extreme temperatures aboard a plane aren't so bad if turbulence can be avoided. I recently experienced the extreme-sports version of turbulence which wrapped a rickety blanket of fear around me made of long and thin human hand bones.

Fireflies

And these are my vices:
impatience, bad temper, wine,
the more than occasional cigarette,
an almost unquenchable thirst to be kissed,
a hunger that isn't hunger
but something like fear, a staunching of dread
and a taste for bitter gossip
of those who've wronged me—for bitterness—
and flirting with strangers and saying sweetheart
to children whose names I don't even know
and driving too fast and not being Buddhist
enough to let insects live in my house
or those cute little toylike mice
whose soft grey bodies in sticky traps
I carry, lifeless, out to the trash
and that I sometimes prefer the company of a book
to a human being, and humming
and living inside my head
and how as a girl I trailed a slow-hipped aunt
at twilight across the lawn
and learned to catch fireflies in my hands,
to smear their sticky, still-pulsing flickering
onto my fingers and earlobes like jewels.

by Cecilia Woloch from Carpathia