Yep, you read that correctly. Because sometimes, pizza is the answer. Also: It will be easier to find this post, later, if the title includes the word "pizza" instead of some weird, abstract, unrelated string of words like I usually give to posts that have recipes. See? I'm learning. Anyway, what you might do with … Continue reading Something about pizza.
The only (relatively) important point here is this one: Peace is an inside job. If you're just scrolling through and see only the first line because you've got a busy day and don't have time to read more, then you're all set, with just that first line. If you're here for a little while longer, … Continue reading Something peaceful.
The thing I remember most clearly is the feeling of terrible surprise. If I'd lived in the middle of things instead of five hours away, of course, I would be remembering, and writing, an entirely different story - if I'd been lucky enough to live to write the story. But I was in Memphis, close … Continue reading Something about oceans.
She arrived at the door with a big paper grocery sack, handed off the goods, and left promptly, knowing full well what life was like with a toddler and a new baby at home. In the grocery sack were three Ziploc bags: Wide noodles; sauce; chopped Romaine (freshly chopped from a real head of lettuce, … Continue reading Something sentimental.
(Originally posted with the title, "The Moon Is Like China," on August 23, 2014. The version below is a revision and, therefore, quite a bit different from the original.) One day, at some point in our childhood, my sister and I were riding in the car, and my sister, staring out the window, said, apropos … Continue reading Something recycled.
It's Saturday; let's not make this complicated. We'll start with some (possibly boring) background, hit the main point, and then get on with recipes and menu suggestions, the way Saturdays used to go around here. Fair enough? OK: At the market this morning, I went first to the butter and egg man (too late, eggs … Continue reading Something predictable.
My mother was born on a farm in rural Tennessee in the mid 1930s, after the Great Depression ended but before economic recovery found that particular remote outpost. Her father, who had the God-given talent of being able to fix anything mechanical at first sight, chose instead to be a preacher and to live off … Continue reading Field peas.
Let's start in a silly place and take it from there: Remember that scene in the movie Forrest Gump where (when?) Bubba talks about shrimp? "Anyway, like I was sayin', shrimp is the fruit of the sea. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. [There's] shrimp-kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. … Continue reading Theme and variations.
