Echoes in a Hollow Space

My mother’s 97^th birthday was April 7. She used to make some damned fine chicken cacciatore. So in celebration of her birth month, I invited my friends who used to dine on her cacciatore for dinner in which I tried to recreate Ma’s cooking. I had her well-loved and well-worn recipe, but I was nervous that I couldn’t duplicate it.

As any cook knows, recipes are only suggestions. You add a little more of this, a little more of that, to make it your own. I was pretty sure I knew how Mom fudged the details—because the things she would add would be the same as the things I would add.

I was still nervous.

Still, I persisted.

Friday, I got out the old cast iron Dutch oven and went through the paces. The cat, who hadn’t smelled chicken cooking in my house for a long time, followed me from room to room meowing because she wanted to make sure she got her share. (She did.) I let the cacciatore cool then stuck it in the fridge overnight. On Saturday, all I had to do was reheat it and cook the spaghetti and garlic cheese toast.

My mother had this theory of feeding people which boiled down essentially to “too much is never enough.” Many who have eaten at her table learned the hard way to wear loose clothing and to eat sparingly of the oer d’oeuvres because Mom’s servings were large—with a rich dessert to follow. Also, asking for seconds usually meant you got a plate heaped as full as the first.

I didn’t honor that tradition. (Sorry, Ma.) We had plenty to eat but we’d all agreed there would be no oer d’oeuvres and I let everyone choose their own serving size. Rich dessert afterwards, yes. We’re none of us ascetics, after all. But somebody else was responsible for the sweets. (And he did a fine job, bringing a tiramisu and serving portions almost as large as the diners’ heads. Mom would have been proud of him.)

I’m happy to report that the cacciatore tasted just like Mama used to make. I was so happy that I could recreate such a well-loved taste from my past. It let me know she was still with me.

Still with me, but still missed.

Mirrored from Better Than Dead.

The lovely and talented mnfaure is dreaming dreams for the future. She would like input on her idea for running workshops in Provence combining a writers’ retreat and French cuisine. Please visit her and let her know what you think of the idea. Everything’s in the planning stage at this point, but dreaming is so much fun!

Mirrored from Better Than Dead.

Crazy busy days lately, at work, at home.  I’m having company for dinner tomorrow night and have spent the day cleaning and organizing.  We’re doing a low country boil and it should be fun.  Shrimp and sausage and halibut and potatoes and onions and spicy crab boil seasoning.  I won’t be able to have any beer with that, which is a great pity, as the only weekend we could all get together was the weekend before an important (but routine) blood test and I’ve given up sugar in all forms.

But none of that is the subject of this post or why I felt compelled to sit down a half hour before midnight to put it down.  I haven’t had much time to blog lately and there’s a build up of effluvia.  I was afraid if I didn’t take a moment now, some vitally important inane information might be lost to history.  So, here it is: what I’m done with is not housekeeping or cooking, it’s Laurell K. Hamilton.

I hadn’t read anything by her in a long time, but I found myself curious to see what was up with her.  The last Anita Blake book I read actually had some semblance of a plot, contrary to several of the ones that had come before.  I mean, a plot having more to do with being “forced” to have sex with dozens of men and endless discussions amongst the characters as to what had just happened, why it had happened, and why the sexcapades were totally, completely against her real true morality, but she couldn’t help it.  She just couldn’t help it.  At heart, she was really a “good girl.”

Uh, anyway, I stuck with LKH a lot longer than I should have, though most of my friends had given up on her, mostly because of the not-Anita characters.  I really loved some of them and wanted to know what was going on with them, although most of the ones I really liked got short shrift in the cavalcade of porn the books had become.  I’m stubborn, I guess.  So I picked up Blood Noir last night and decided I’d wallow in it, to see if that promise of actual plot in The Harlequin meant LKH was finally snapping out of her narrow focus.  The first several chapters were an extended sex scene between Anita and two guys, plus endless discussions of what had just happened, why it had happened, and why the sexcapades were totally, completely against her real true morality, but she couldn’t help it.  She just couldn’t help it.  At heart, she was really a “good girl.”

And I realized that I really no longer gave a damn about any of those characters.  Finding out what might be going on with them was no longer worth slogging through the slush these books have become.  I like me a good sex scene, have no trouble walking on the pervy side, but I do prefer to have my sexy fiction have some actual fiction in it to go along with the ol’ boogaloo.

I moved consequently LKH’s books from the TBR pile to the recycle pile.  I don’t think they’ll be wending their way back out again.

And no telling when I may get to set down more inane content again.  Watch this space.

Mirrored from Better Than Dead.

1. 1/2 cup olive oil
2. 4 pounds beef short ribs
3. salt and pepper to taste
4. 1 cup all-purpose flour (I use wheat flour as it adds a really nice dimension to the flavor)
5. 2 cups chopped onions
6. 1 cup chopped celery
7. 1 cup chopped carrots
8. 2 tablespoons minced garlic
9. 3 bay leaves
10. 1 tablespoon dried thyme
11. 1 cup red wine
12. 8 cups beef stock
13. 1/4 cup chopped parsley

Heat the oil in a large pot over medium high heat. Season the ribs with salt and pepper to taste and dredge them in flour. Fry the ribs in the oil in small batches, adding oil as needed, to sear the meat. This should take 2 to 3 minutes per batch. Set ribs aside.

In the same pot, add the onions and saute for 2 minutes. Add the celery and carrots and saute for 1 more minute. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and then stir in the garlic, bay leaves and thyme and cook for 1 more minute.

Deglaze the pot with the red wine, scraping up all the bits on the bottom. Add the stock, bring to a boil, reduce heat to low and simmer. Add the ribs and continue to simmer for 2 hours, until the sauce thickens. Stir in the parsley and serve.