Ha ha, Miss Penni, I think you got suckered into buying some DUNCE caps!!!! Not only did you get ripped off, but if you are not careful there is a laughing stock in your future, in every sense the phrase connotes!!! (All of mine are laughing stocks at this point, so you are not alone.) Anyway, I think they keep the torture devices over at the Flame thread, so perhaps we may have a nice visit there later.
With my portfolio in the bargain basement and my New Year's resolution to be more frugal still in effect, today we sauteed a very long sausage of indeterminate lineage that I found in the freezer door with an onion, and I served it over rice. So far I have lived to tell the tale, with just a little indigestion. I am planning a year's worth of menus, all of them with just one chicken back or neck thrown in somewhere, or a can of frozen orange juice and a three-year-old, harder-than-rocks English muffin with just a fresh egg added for protein, or a frozen lima bean and corn succotash, the authentic Native American recipe with some sunflower seeds sprinkled on top I found in that very interesting crack between the counter and the stove. The cats should be careful to behave themselves, since fresh meat is at a premium around the scatter!! So I am sorry I cannot really spare anything frozen for the antique food party.
HOWEVER, and this is a gift straight from my heart because it has so much meaning for me, I will donate my last jar of blackberry jam from the refrigerator door. I am sure you would get botulism if you ate any, but I get the idea the antique food party is a metaphorical concept at best, so that is probably still okay, yes? That wonderful year when my daughter was small and we lived in our cottage on the beach of that wonderful island, I gathered my own blackberries from behind our house, and added honey because I was still sort of a hippie, and made jam. Unfortunately I did not taste it until it was in the jars, assuming I was as perfect in cooking as in all the other areas of my idyllic life, I didn't realize it was sour enough to pucker the sourest puss lips. So no one ever really ate any, but I kept a jar to remind myself of that last wonderful year before my life got much harder and I lost a lot of my illusions.
I also killed some hundred-and-fifty-year-old geoduck clams on our beach with my trusty shovel, and have felt horrible ever since, after I found out they were alive when the Indians lived on that beach, but the clam chowder I made was very tasty, and that is a tale for another time, in any event.
Well, bon appetit anyway!!!!!! |
