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Archive for March, 2009

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My attentions will soon be moving away from foodvox and on to a few other things – some online, some not.

The Searching For Manna blog will be an exploration of manna. What it is, what it does, what we think it is and does, and any single other thing I can think of that touches upon the subject.

Hope you’ll visit and enjoy it!
Karen

P.S. If you’d like to come along on my new adventures, here’s a link to Searching For Manna.

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I’ve sometimes seen a purple potato

And I always hope to see one

The only remaining question is

Is it better to see or eat one?

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Here’s a very interesting recipe: Cod with Lapsang Souchong Oil and Puree of Violettes

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For recipe, click on photo.

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One of the phrases with great mouth-feel in the French language is ‘bien installé’. It’s not only the mouth-feel but the mind-feel that goes along with it that makes one want to grab the phrase and hold on to it.

When I started hearing this phrase during the too-short time I lived in Paris, I held it in my heart – repeating it over and over to myself. “Bien installé, bien installé, mais oui, I am!” And it made me very happy and proud.

In that particular instance, the phrase meant “You’re settled in now, aren’t you!” At other times the phrase shaped slightly differently can mean ‘fitted out’; ‘well-established’; ‘installed’; ‘settled’; or even ‘entangled in’.

To be a part of the idea of ‘bien installé’ has a mesmerising pull to it. How solid! How safe! How irrefutable!

I’m not sure, myself, that in reality there is a truly safe place – though many people in our culture have experienced lives so close to being utterly safe and secure that when the idea is presented to them that perhaps there is no really, truly, safe place it deeply offends the very core of their being.

‘Bien installé’ is also a look presented to the world. The essence it holds is deep and solid, sure and elegant – at best.

‘Bien installé’ came to my mind when I saw the menu posted above and more, at Le Divan Fumoir Bohémien – a blog I read almost daily. Gorgeous. Bien installé at its very best.

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Click here to view J.W. Buell Slideshow of ‘Sea and Land’ by stevelewalready (It’s possible to open this tab along with the music video at the same time . . . if you are so inclined – you’ll have to open another window. I rather enjoy the mix, myself.)

Welcome to the Jungle.

Hungry? Get your Sustainable Seafood Recipes right here.

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(Part Two of  A Tale of Two Lentils )
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Velveeta and Bob were a team when they went shopping. Bob was a special sort of dog, with powers beyond the usual sorts. He’d been the runt of a litter born to a well-known television personality bitch who’d co-starred in a 1950’s family comedy show. His mother had rejected him and her owners feared the worst: loss of income. For who would buy this little dog of the famous mother if word got around about this rejection? But Bob had made his own way, and in a surprising manner.

Bob had become a truffle dog. A self-trained truffle dog, to boot. Nobody knew exactly how it all started, but by his third month of life, Bob was digging up truffles where no truffles had ever been found before. This was in California, of course – so nobody was all that surprised, simply because, well . . . this was California, and all things were possible.

But Bob loved truffles so very much that when the ground was barren he took to attacking the refrigerator in the mansion where his owners lived part-time. It was the truffled pate he wanted, the truffle oil that was spooned onto scrambled eggs, the shaved truffles carefully saved for pasta. And this, was beyond the pale. Truffle-dog he may have been, but it was much more important to his owners that the refrigerator front surface remain pristine and elegant. So they took Bob to the pound, and that is where Velveeta found him – as she visited the poor strays to delight them with a few pounds of raw chicken livers left over from her latest cooking project.

She and Bob locked eyes the moment she entered the gated area, and that was that. History was made. Their love affair started with that one, single, startlingly instantaneous and knowing glance. She took him home that very day, only to discover his truffling skills upon entering her kitchen. Bob, without a moment’s hesitation pawed open her cupboard door and chewed apart a small tin of truffle shavings in oil.

Destiny. It could have been nothing else.

(To be continued . . .)

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