Random Acts of Writing

Pecan Pie Lava - A Thanksgiving Hazard

It is only Thanksgiving eve, and the dinner preparation mishaps have already begun.

It started benignly enough. I thought there were two pie plates in my cupboard. Alas, there was but one. Undeterred, I pressed a tart pan into service, the kind with the bottom that pops out. The pumpkin pie, which takes longer to bake, would go in the official pie plate. The pecan would bake in the tart pan. I dutifully put cookie trays (ones with no edges) under the baking pies to keep any filling spilling contained.

It turns out that the pecan pie did not want to be in the tart pan. The crust (a gluten-free attempt at dough) combined with the corn syrupy filling to produce a substance similar to molten lava. Copious amounts of this matter flowed to the bottom of the oven. I could almost hear it gloat “Cookie sheet? I laugh at your cookie sheet!” as it had its way with the heating element.

I removed the pecan tart/pie (with cloth potholders) and thought it would be a good idea to separate the pan from the cookie sheet (to which is was firmly adhered). I was wrong. Oh folly! Oh frizzle! Oh fudge! I now have some impressive blisters along the side of my left thumb, where the filling/lava and my skin connected for far to long.

Oh what will tomorrow, the day of cooking the 15-pound bird, crafting stuffing, smashing potatoes, bring? I really will try to be careful…

More Cooking Brilliance with the Bounty of Western Massachusetts

Oh so simple. 

A bunch of freshly grow garlic (with garden soil still dusting the cloves) sat patiently next to the stove.

Quarter-chopped local zucchini steamed in a pan.

A flash of inspiration: One clove of the newly harvested garlic sliced thin with a serrated knife (crushing whilst cutting) strewn on top of the steaming zuke.

Result: Simple heaven in vegetable form.

Not quite haiku, but something akin.

- aae

Amazing Kale

I don't know what came over me.

Lunchtime on a rainy Tuesday. In the fridge is a bunch of kale from the farm share share I'm sharing with pals. (Yes, I meant to write "the farm share share I'm sharing.") Kale. I've never cooked kale. I've seen it mostly as garnish, and occasionally in Polish soup.

I pull out a large non-stick fry pan (the good 'ole standby) and dollop some olive oil, turn the heat up to medium.  I slice one onion into thin slivers; I think it's that sort-of sweet Georgia kind.  Throw onion shards into the oil, let it soften.  I chop the washed Kale rather indiscriminately. I admire its hardy nature, its cheerful frilled edges. Into the pan goes the kale, droplets of water beading in its deep green crevices. And then, a stroke of genius. Or hunger. Or both. I chop a fresh tomato, a hothouse variety but locally grown. Outside on the deck is a pot of sad herbs in bad soil. Still, there are a few basil leaves and rosemary twigs available for seasoning. In they go to, with the tomato, the kale, the onions, the olive oil. I settle a big glass lid on the pan and let it all just simmer together comfortably for a while. The tomato releases red into the onions. The kale, still hardy and firm, relaxes somewhat. I dish it out, add a pinch of sea salt (oh so much better than the table-top stand by variety) and voila!  A bowl of kale goodness. Satisfying to chew, the flavors melding together, comforting and delicious. A happy sigh of a nutritious and tasty lunch.