As I puttered into work today, I noticed a vanity tag imprinted thusly: FRMRGRL. After a moments' reflection, I figured that the owner meant to imply that she was an agriculturally minded woman: a "Farmer Girl"; however, my mind was in a strange place, and my first thought was that the owner was a dude that used to be a dame: a "Former Girl". This chain of thoughts led me to think about "The Princess Bride", and this bit:
Okay, my Seminoles got bounced in the second round of the NCAA basketball tournament. Sad, true; fortunately, there are salves for these sorts of things. One of them is a nice meal. Sunday night, Lady Di whipped up her fabulous pork_tenderloin with thinly sliced potatoes, Summer squash and zucchini, grilled in foil with Spring onions, olive oil and a little salt and pepper, and a dessert to die for: homemade cream puffs. The ingredient list is not long, but attention must be paid. Add butter to boiling water, stir in some flour and a little salt until it makes a nice ball, add a couple of eggs (one at a time, carefully), and then bake until the pastry is golden brown and fluffy. Like this, see?
Cut them in half, and... mmm, look at that. Light, but eggy in the middle. When I was a lad, I used to go to Alessi Bakery in Tampa to buy an eclair whenever I had a few extra shekels, and they were wonderful. A fond memory, but Chef Alessi's got nothing on Lady Di.
Scoop some vanilla bean ice cream in between then halves, and top with some Sander's Chocolate sauce (If I get up to Michigan to buy some, I'll blog it. Tastes like a cross between chocolate sauce and caramel. It's really, really good). And whadya got?
Now that's what I'm talking about. Tyler's review? "That was frickin' AWESOME!" Well said, son.
'Noles lost to a bunch of thugs from Cincinnati. I only wish they'd played earlier, so I coulda got some sleep.
Loved the mists over the pond. Or, as Deep Purple had it about 40 years ago...
Leaves, weeds and grass awakening from its Winter slumber all cried for action today, so I fired up the John Deere and took a ride. The first cut of the Season deserves a shout-out. I've heard Sheryl Crow and Rod Stewart opine that the first cut is the deepest, but they weren't the first first-cut crooners. Here're a few versions:
First, the joke: A dude decides he wants to become a chicken farmer. First he finds a few acres, then he buys a hundred chickens. He's not sure what to do, so he buries them up to the neck, and a week later, they're all dead. He buys another hundred, buries them head-down the next time, but they still died after a few days. Perplexed, he goes to the Clemson_Extension_Service for some advice. The agent asks him to explain the problem. The dude says, "I bought a hundred chickens and buried them up to their necks, but they all died. I tried again a couple of weeks later, but they also died. What's wrong?". The agent pondered for a minute, carefully stroking his chin. "Well", the agent said, "First I'm gonna need a soil sample..."
I'm no farmer. Shoot, I'm having a devil of a time growing grass. The lack of a lush lawn actually, improbably, led me to acquire a soil sample from the front, back and side yards of La Maisson Jeune. We sent them off to the Clemson Extension Service, brought the results to the Flower Barn, where we got some excellent advice, and an invitation to purchase some weed and feed in a week or so. Oh, and our soil is apparently not "chicken grade"...
It rained all day today. Lady Di and I'd planned on working in the yard, but it was not to be. We made the best of it. We picked up some boneless, skinless chicken breasts, carrots, celery, red potatoes, onions, red peppers, peas and leeks (yes, I said peas and leeks. What are you, twelve? Geesh), and got to work. Lady Di boiled the chicken breasts with a quartered onion, a couple of celery stalks, and a tablespoon of peppercorns, while I chopped up the leek, the potatoes, some carrots and the red pepper. Chef Di removed the chicken to the refrigerator, strained the chicken stock, then added a couple minced cloves of garlic, garlic powder and the vegetables and boiled them for a bit before adding the chopped chicken back in with a thickening sauce of flour, salt, pepper and garlic powder (mighta been baking soda, too, but I snuck off and watched basketball for awhile, so I can't be sure...). She mixed up some biscuit dough for the topper, and baked it up nice. And waddya got? David Cross knows:
