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The Arrangement
“The market smelled of hay and roasted nuts; she bought a newspaper cone of almonds from a woman stirring them over an open fire. She bought thick sandy leeks, a rope of garlic and a pound of tomatoes; she bought a long
batard
of sourdough bread, a dozen bluish speckled eggs, a jar of cream, because now she had a refrigerator and could keep such things for more than an hour or two. She lifted the paper lid of the cream and tasted it, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand; she remembered the pillowy clouds of Gruyère grated onto her piece of waxed paper at Les Halles, the cheese maker young and handsome and milk-fed himself; he tried to teach her the French for being in love with him:
mon cocotte, mon chouchou, ma petit lapin, Madame, s'il vous plaît
.
She walked the stalls, and on the edge of the market, a fishmonger laid out his catch on two blocks of ice: strange curled squids and spider crabs, silvery piles of sardines, their eyes still sparkling, thick slabs of some white-meated fish, its head as big as a dinner plate.”
French
Seafood
French Food
Farmers Market
Mfk Fisher
Life Moves Pretty Fast: The Lessons We Learned From Eighties Movies
“When most people think of masculinity in eighties movies, they probably think of that strange genre that sprouted and bulged up in that decade like Popeye's biceps after eating spinach, consisting of men who look like "condoms stuffed with walnuts," speaking their lines in confused accents and emphasising random syllables, strongly suggesting they'd learned the words phonetically: Schwarzenegger, Lundgren, Stallone (technically, if not obviously, a native English speaker).”
Humor
Films
Eighties
Supper Club
“A few days before the club, Stevie and Erin produced the wares of their dumpster dives. New potatoes, udon noodles, shiitake mushrooms, raspberry doughnuts, baked meringues, feta cheese, frozen peas, farfalle pasta, tomato puree, tinned salmon, plus a load of day-old radishes.
"The most important part of any dumpster dive," Erin said, moving her hand expansively over the food, "is showing off what you have found."
I processed the food as she'd taught me: cleaning the packaging with diluted bleach and soaking the vegetables in a vinegar-water solution. In the large chrome restaurant kitchen, I spread it all out across the counter and thought about what I'd make. We had bought just one extra ingredient: enormous cuts of T-bone steak. We thought red meat should be a prerequisite for all Supper Clubs. An element of spontaneity had also been agreed on, with no set menu, no dietary requirements- just eat whatever's in front of you and be sure to eat it all. The plan was to spend all night at the restaurant, waiting hours between courses.
I made grilled potatoes and spiced salmon for the first course. I roasted radishes and topped them with crumbled feta for the second. Cold noodle salad with shiitake mushrooms and peas for the third, and T-bone steaks cooked rare, with a side of garlic-tomato pasta, for the main course. For dessert I made a strange sort of Eton mess, with chunks of torn doughnuts and smashed meringue covered in cream and sugar.”
Dessert
Club
Supper
Food Preparation
Food Ware
Natalie Tan's Book of Luck & Fortune
“I had my feast out on the kitchen table. Draped over beds of jasmine rice, thin pork chops seasoned with lemongrass showcased charred stripes from the grill. Cold summer rolls with translucent rice paper glimmered with riotous colors from the mint leaves, vermicelli, and shrimp filling. Emerald coriander leaves peeked out amid slices of barbecued pork, in golden, crusty baguette sandwiches called banh mi. I placed a few pieces of the pork onto a plate for the cat. I bit into the cold rolls first. The thin wrapper yielded to my teeth, giving way to the crunchy pickled vegetables and plump shrimp underneath. The mint leaf inside complemented the sweet sauce with crushed peanuts. The two small rolls vanished into my belly.
I attacked the banh mi next. The crisp crust highlighted the varying textures of its filling: crisp from the pickled radish and carrots, textures sang on my tongue.”
Vegetables
Pork
Flavors
Rolls
Vietnamese Food
Natalie Tan's Book of Luck & Fortune
“First, I placed the clean snapper on a bed of aluminum foil sprinkled with sea salt and olive oil. I then stuffed the tomatoes, garlic, onions, and coriander into the belly of the fish before sewing it shut. The first time I'd tasted this, the snapper was skewered and turned over open flames. To accompany it, I'd drunk the sweet juice from young coconuts cut with machetes, taken off the very trees above us. Now that I was back to apartment living, I had to modify the recipe and grill the fish in a closed packet. The texture of the skin wouldn't be as crisp, but the flesh would be even more tender. If I had thought Celia preferred the crisp texture, I would have fried it with the stuffing mixture served on the side.
The fish was ready to be baked. I prepared sinanag, Filipino garlic fried rice, to accompany the fish: jasmine rice, smashed garlic cloves, sea salt, and a sprinkle of vegetable oil.”
Filipino
Fish
Cooking
Mixture
Food Preparation
Rice
Stuffing
Crime and Punishment
“But now, strange as it seems, a peasant's small, scrawny. light brown nag is harnessed to such a large cart, one of those horses he's seen it often that sometimes strain to pull some huge load of firewood or hay. Especially if the cart has gotten stuck in the mud or a rut. The peasants always whip the horse so terribly, so very painfully, sometimes even across its muzzle and eyes, and he would always feel so sorry, so very sorry to witness it that he would feel like crying, and his mother would always lead him away from the window. Now things are getting extremely boisterous: some very large and extremely drunken peasants in red and blue shirts, their heavy coats slung over their shoulders. come out of the tavern shouting, singing. and playing balalaikas. “Git in. everyone git in!" shouts one peasant, a young lad with a thick neck and a fleshy face, red as a beet, “I'll take ya all. Git in!" But there is a burst of laughter and shouting:
“That ol’ nag ain't good for nothin'!"
“Hey, Mikolka, you must be outta yer head to hitch that ol' mare to yer cart!"
“That poor ol' horse must be twenty if she's a day, lads!"
“Git in, I'll take ya all!" Mikolka shouts again,jumping in first, taking hold of the reins, and standing up straight in the front of the cart. “Matvei went off with the bay," he cries from the cart, “and as for this ol' mare here, lads, she's only breakin' my heart: I don't give a damn ifit kills ’er; she ain't worth her salt. Git in, I tell ya! I'll make 'er gallop! She’ll gallop, all right!" And he takes the whip in his hand, getting ready to thrash the horse with delight.
"What the hell, git in!" laugh several people in the crowd. "You heard 'im, she'll gallop!"
“I bet she ain't galloped in ten years!"
"She will now!"
“Don't pity 'er, lads; everyone, bring yer whips, git ready!" "That's it! Thrash 'er!" They all clamber into Mikolka's cart with guffaws and wisecracks. There are six lads and room for more. They take along a peasant woman, fat and ruddy. She's wearing red calico, a headdress trimmed with beads, and fur slippers; she‘s cracking nuts and cackling. The crowd’s also laughing; as a matter of fact, how could one keep from laughing at the idea of a broken down old mare about to gallop, trying to pull such a heavy load! Two lads in the cart grab their whips to help Mikolka. The shout rings out: “Pull!" The mare strains with all her might, but not only can’t she gallop, she can barely take a step forward; she merely scrapes her hooves, grunts, and cowers from the blows of the three whips raining down on her like hail. Laughter redoubles in the cart and among the crowd, but Mikolka grows angry and in his rage strikes the little mare with more blows, as if he really thinks she’ll be able to gallop. “Take me along, too, lads!" shouts someone from the crowd who’s gotten a taste of the fun.
“Git in! Everyone, git inl" cries Mikolka. “She'll take everyone. I‘ll flog 'er!" And he whips her and whips her again; in his frenzy, he no longer knows what he’s doing.
“Papa, papa," the boy cries to his father. “Papa, what are they doing? Papa, they‘re beating the poor horse!"
“Let's go, let's go!" his father says. “They’re drunk, misbehaving, those fools: let’s go. Don't look!" He tries to lead his son away. but the boy breaks from his father‘s arms; beside himself, he runs toward the horse. But the poor horse is on her last legs. Gasping for breath, she stops, and then tries to pull again, about to drop.
“Beat 'er to death!" cries Mikolka. ”That's what it's come to. I‘ll flog ‘er!"
“Aren't you a Christian. you devil?" shouts one old man from the crowd.
“Just imagine, asking an ol' horse like that to pull such a heavy load,” adds another.
“You‘ll do 'er in!" shouts a third.
“Leave me alone! She’s mine! I can do what I want with 'er! Git in, all of ya! Everyone git in I'm gonna make 'er gallop!”
Animals
Dream
Cruelty
Violence
Abuse
Horse
Dostoyevsky
Humans And Animals
Mare
“If you have a monster inside of you, please teach it how to jump, and laugh, and fly and catch fish! Please teach it to climb mountains to watch sunsets and wade in ponds to feel moonlight. Please love your monster, tell it that it has a home, teach it that it has a place in this world, maybe it likes ice cream, maybe marshmallows make it smile, maybe it goes to beautiful places in its dreams at night. One day it will sit atop a clocktower and cast sunbeams onto everyone! Because it will learn that! Because angels are too busy to do that, but monsters are not. Monsters would love to catch sunbeams and eat sugar donuts. Teach your monsters, they will form moonbeams one day!”
Mental Health
Mental Illness
Anxiety Quotes
Mental Health Quotes
Mental Health Awareness
Depression Recovery
Mental Healing
Revenge of the Lawn Gnomes
“Lawn Lovely is a store two blocks from our house. It’s the place where Dad buys his lawn ornaments. A lot of lawn ornaments.
Dad is as nuts about lawn ornaments as he is about gardening. We have so many lawn ornaments in our front yard, it’s impossible to mow the lawn!
What a crowd scene! We have two pink plastic flamingos. A cement angel with huge white wings. A chrome ball on a silver platform. A whole family of plaster skunks. A fountain with two kissing swans. A seal that balances a beach ball on its nose. And a chipped plaster deer.”
Gardening
Horror
R L Stine
Lawn Gnomes
Revenge Of The Lawn Gnomes
Working for Uncle Henry
“They don’t go around talkin’ about it to everybody. People’d think they’re nuts. But you’re only a nut if you’re wrong.”
Conspiracy
Conspiracy Theories
Mystery Series
Suspense Fiction
Kindleunlimited
Mystery Novels
Mystery Fiction
Conspiracy Fiction
Christian Suspense
Chrsitian Fiction
With the Fire on High
“Everyone jumps to their stations and I meet Richard and Amanda at ours. We're in charge of assembling spoonfuls of sweet-potato casserole but with a Spanish twist. That was my idea, a Southern holiday meal meets a twist of southern Spain. Most of the hors d'oeuvres were prepared beforehand so we just need to get them in the oven and put on the finishing garnishes. I begin scooping sweet-potato casserole onto ceramic serving spoons while Richard garnishes them with sugared walnuts and Spanish sausage. Three months ago, most of us had never even tried Spanish cuisine, and today we're hosting a semi-Spanish-themed banquet.
We work like machines. I spoon and pass the bite to my left. Richard adds walnuts and sausage, and passes the plate. Amanda adds parsley and cleans the plate. Chili aioli would make this bomb. A sweet and savory bite. I almost walk to the spice cabinet, then stop myself.
That's not the recipe.
We make trays and trays of food; some are set forward for the students who will begin serving. These are the skewers of winter veggies and single-serve portions of herbed stuffing with jamón ibérico- the less hearty bites. While the first course is being distributed the rest of us begin wiping down our stations. Our mini bites of sweet potato and mac and cheese will be going out next.”
Spanish
Spices
Cuisine
Food Preparation
Sweet Potato
Mac And Cheese
Southern Cooking
Casserole
The Strawberry Thief
“Do you want some help?" said Anouk, watching me bring out the big glass jars of raisins and cherries and sprinkles and nuts to decorate the
mendiants
.
I smiled. "Of course. My favorites."
It has been a long time since Anouk wanted to help me make chocolates. Now she does, as a child might play with her favorite toys for one last time before putting them aside for ever. Almonds, candied lemon peel, fat black cherries, green cardamom, and a sprinkle of edible gold to highlight the rich dark chocolate. Once sold by travelers door-to-door, these are kings and queens of the road, gilded, glossy and glorious.
"I made mine into faces," she said.
I smiled at her. "You always did.”
Chocolate
Cookies
Mother And Daughter
Vianne Rocher
Anouk Rocher
The Strawberry Thief
“Narcisse was gone. But I already knew.
Someone
has been up to no good. Someone caused an Accident. And now he has left me his strawberry wood, and everyone's discussing me.
They think I don't understand, but I do. It's
my
wood. My very own. And no-one will sell it, cut it down, or try to keep me from going there. I will build a house for myself, among the ferns and brambles. I will live on hazelnuts, and sorrel, and wild strawberries. And no-one will disturb me there, or laugh at all the things I do, because the wood belongs to me, and no-one else will go there.”
Natures Beauty
Rosette Rocher
The Wood
The Strawberry Thief
“But I do like the church. I like the smell of polished wood and incense. I like the colored window glass and the statue of Saint Francis. Reynaud says Saint Francis is the patron saint of animals, who left his life to live in the woods. I'd like to do that. I'd build myself a house in a tree, and live on nuts and strawberries. Maman and I never go to church. Once, that might have caused trouble. But Reynaud says we don't have to go. Reynaud says God sees us, and cares for us, wherever we are.”
God
Church
Saint Francis
Rosette Rocher
“The time has surely gone in which economists could analyze in great detail two individuals exchanging nuts for berries on the edge of the forest and then feel that their analysis of the process of exchange was complete, illuminating though this analysis may be in certain respects.”
Capitalism
Economics
Liberalism
Political Economy
Markets
Neoliberalism
Barter
Heterodox
Mainsteam
The Dud Avocado
“The world is wide, wide, wide, and I am young, young, young, and we’re all going to live forever!'
We were very hungry but we didn’t want to leave, so we ate there. We had chicken sandwiches; boy, the chicken of the century. Dry, wry, and tender, the dryness sort of rubbing against your tongue on soft, bouncy white bread with slivers of juicy wet pickles. Then we had some very salty potato chips and some olives stuffed with pimentos and some Indian nuts and some tiny pearl onions and some more popcorn. Then we washed the whole thing down with iced martinis and finished up with large cups of strong black coffee and cigarettes. One of my really great meals.”
Youth
Immortality
Gluttony
Hunger
Epicureanism
Youthfulness
Invincibility
Meals
Food Writing
Epicure
Wrong Planet - Searching for your Tribe
“One story clearly illustrates Anne Bonny's particular mix of comedy and ingenuity. She'd heard of a French Merchantman, loaded down with silks and satins, and decided to attack it. Her plan was quite nuts. She got the crew to smear the sails and the deck of the ship with turtle blood, covered most of the crew with the same blood, dressed one of Bouspeut’s dressmaker dummies in women’s clothing and stood it in the bow of the ship, likewise splashed with blood, and positioned the crew around it like corpses.
She then lobbed her tits out and, brandishing a blood-soaked boarding axe, stood quite still over this horrific scene as they sailed out to meet the Merchantman.
Sailors are profoundly superstitious and once the Frenchmen caught sight of this demonic ship with the bare-breasted maniac lit by a raging moon, the Frenchmen were so repelled that they gave up without a fight.
What theatre!”
Pirates
Pirate
Pirate Romance
The Universe in a Nutshell
“No creo que la especie humana haya llegado tan lejos sólo para eliminarse a sí misma cuando las cosas se están poniendo interesantes.”
Humanos
Distopia
Exponencial
Why I Write
“Böylesi büyük ve bilinçli ihanetin İngiltere'de başarıya ulaşması olası değil, hatta denenmeye değecek kadar bile olası değil. Bununla birlikte, süper vergi ödeyenlerin çoğu için bu savaş bedeli ne olursa olsun durdurulması gereken delice bir aile çekişmesi. Yukarılarda bir yerlerden, muhtemelen de çoktan kurulmuş olan bir gölge kabineden bir "barış" hareketinin yola koyulduğuna şüphe yok. Bu insanlar yenilgi anında değil ama sıkıntıya hoşnutsuzluğun eklendiği durağan bir dönemde şans bulacaklar. Teslim olmaktan değil, yalnızca barıştan söz edecekler ve kuşkusuz kendilerini ve belki başka insanları iyi niyetle hareket ettiklerine ikna edecekler.”
Barış
Teslim Olmak
Levent Konca
Neden Yazıyorum
Çeviri
İngiltere
Ikinci Dünya Savaşı
Vatan Hainliği
The Universe in a Nutshell
“Claramente, el crecimiento exponencial actual no puede continuar indefinidamente.”
Malthus
Humanos
Distopia
Exponencial
The Nutcracker and The Mouse King
“Oh!” exclaimed Marie at last, “who does the charming little fellow in the tree belong to, dearest Papa?”
“He should work hard for all of you, dear child,” her father replied. “He can bite the hardest of nuts and crack them open for you, and he belongs to Luise as much as to you and Fritz.”
Present
Christmas
Christmas Eve
Nutcracker
Mouse King
Batgirl: Year One
“I'm playing 'chicken' with a kid called 'Robin.' I don't know why he's showing off. I don't know why I'm going along with it. I don't even know where we're going. It could be a robbery. Or prison break. A gang war. Or free donuts at Lenny's. He sees that Bat-signal in the sky and takes off. Like a bird out of Hell. And he just expects me to follow him. And I do.”
Robin
Dc Comics
Barbara Gordon
Batgirl
Batgirl Year One
Appetite
“Thus a dish of tench and eel was arranged so that the pointed head of the eels, gills splayed, thrust through a sea of delicate yellow sauce (toasted breadcrumbs, red wine and vinegar, more red wine reduced to
defrutum
, long pepper, grains of paradise, cloves, all passed through a sieve and tinted with saffron) towards the gaping lips of the tench. A plate of grilled partridges was presented with the birds still spitted from arsenal to beak, the spits radiating out from a magnificent cockerel, skinned, roasted and recloaked in its feathers, tail and red-combed head; the whole arranged on an armature so that it raised one leg and crowed at the ceiling. Inside the hollow body of the cockerel I had arranged a small silver alembic, its narrow end, no wider than a stalk of grass (I had borrowed it from an alchemist I knew through the Academy) protruding from the beak, and below it a tiny spirit lamp, which I lit as the serving men were already taking the dish away. The alembic was filled with Greco wine tinted with the milk of almonds, and I calculated that the wine would boil more or less when the dish was set on the table, and jet from the proud cock, showering the skewered partridges in aromatic white sauce.
There were the ripest figs, all splitting, of course, served with boiled crayfish- as eager, these bright red fellows, to explore the figs as the eels had been curious about the tench- and
torte
of rucola and pine nuts, liberally spiced with garlic and cloves.”
Seafood
Spices
Herbs
Poultry
Banquet
Appetite
“It was a good-sized trout, opened out, salted, pressed, floured and fried. The entrails had been cooked with some vinegar and mint, mashed up and spooned onto the plate as a sort of afterthought. It was delicious: simple and honest. I ate it all, and didn't give a single thought for what it might do to my humors. I sucked every bone, washed it down with some thick, spicy red wine- peasants' wine- from the hills above the town. I knew that I was tasting the place itself: the fish from the river I had crossed on my way into the town, the pig that had rooted in the woods I had ridden through, olives grown a short walk away. The pig had snuffled under the pine trees whose nuts had adorned its sausages. I had eaten the land. The town itself will always be nameless in my memory, but even now I can assemble it from its flavors, because I have never forgotten any of them. A meal of pigs' liver and fish, served with apologies.”
Pigs
Trout
Surf And Turf
Sausages
Food And Wine
Liver
Sense Of Taste
Seasonings
Perugia
Appetite
“I speared a sausage with my knife, bit off the end. Juice and fat exploded: the pork melted. I tasted chestnuts, moss, the bulbs of wild lilies, the roots and shoots of an Umbrian forest floor. There was pepper, of course, salt and garlic. Nothing else. I opened my eyes. The Proctor was staring at me, and quickly looked away. I thought I saw a smile cross his lips before he opened them to admit another wagon-load of lentils.
I tried a spoonful myself. They were very small and brown- earthy-tasting, of course. That I had been expecting. But these were subtle: there was a hint of pine, which came partly from the rosemary that was obviously in the dish, but partly from the lentils themselves. I did feel as if I were eating soil, but a special kind: some sort of silky brown clay, perhaps; something that Maestro Donatello would have crossed oceans to sculpt with, or that my uncle Filippo would have used as a pigment to paint the eyes of a beautiful brown-eyed
donna
. Maybe this is what the earth under the finest hazelnut tree in Italy would taste like- but that, perhaps, was a question best put to a pig.
"Make sure you chew properly," I mumbled, piling my plate high.
The serving girl came back with a trencher of sliced pork meats: salami dotted with pink fat, ribbons of
lardo
, peppery bacon. The flavors were slippery, lush, like copper leaf or the robe of a cardinal. I coiled a strip of dark, translucent ham onto my tongue: it dissolved into a shockingly carnal mist, a swirl of truffles, cinnamon and
bottarga
.”
Earthy
Flavors
Sausages
Meats
Lentils
Sense Of Taste
Appetite
“The first dishes, carried out on Barroni's exquisite silver platters, were a selection of marzipan fancies, shaped into hearts and silvered; a
mostarda
of black figs in spiced syrup; skewers of prosciutto marinated in red wine that I had reduced until it was thick and almost black; little
frittate
with herbs, each covered with finely sliced black truffles; whole baby
melanzane
, simmered in olive oil, a recipe I had got from a Turkish merchant I had met in the bathhouse.
I set about putting the second course together. I heated two kinds of
biroldi
, blood sausages: one variety I had made pig's blood, pine nuts and raisins; the other was made from calf's blood, minced pork and pecorino. Quails, larks, grey partridge and figpeckers were roasting over the fire, painted with a sauce made from grape molasses, boiled wine, orange juice, cinnamon and saffron. They blackened as they turned, the thick sauce becoming a lovely, shiny caramel. There were roasted front-quarters of hare, on which would go a deep crimson, almost black sauce made from their blood, raisins, boiled wine and black pepper. Three roasted heads of young pigs, to which I had added tusks and decorated with pastry dyed black with walnut juice so that they resembled wild boar, then baked.
Meanwhile, there was a whole sheep turning over the fire, more or less done, but I was holding it so that it would be perfect. The swan- there had to be a swan, Baroni had decided- was ready. I attached it to the armature of wire I had made, so that it stood up regally. The sturgeon, which I had cooked last night at home, and had finally set in aspic at around the fourth hour after midnight, was waiting in a covered salver. There were black cabbage leaves rolled around hazelnuts and cheese; rice porridge cooked in the Venetian style with cuttlefish ink; and of course the roebuck, roasting as well, but already trussed in the position I had designed for it.”
Black
Theme
Meats
Poultry
Italian Food
Banquet
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