Pork-upine Primer

More freaky food fun this week. 

I first saw this Spaghetti Dog creation over at Plum Pudding, but have since found it elsewhere.  Many of the pics around the net seem to come from this Russian blog.  

First, cut up your favorite dog (tofu dogs, hot dogs, sausage dogs, whatever).  I cut each of our dogs into four pieces.  Then jam uncooked spaghetti into every dog bit.  This is a little tedious.  Give yourself 15-20 minutes to do a standard eight-dog package.  Dextrous children should be enlisted to help in this step, unless they are easily frustrated by the breaking of spaghetti.  Yes, expect much breakage until you get the hang of the jabbing.  But save the broken bits and toss them into the pot with everything else.  

Spaghetti jabbed into hot dog segments, before cooking

This is my regular spaghetti pot (why yes, it does have only one handle, adds to the cooking excitement), but it might have been easier to get them all in the pan at once if I’d used my bigger pot.  I would not expect to reach al dente perfection in this recipe.  If I tried this again, I’d cut the hot dogs into smaller pieces so that the pasta embedded in the dog could cook better.  We had chewy pasta inside our dogs.  

Trying to pile the dogs into the boiling water

We tossed in extra noodles for those in the family who are not partial to eating dogs.  

The cooked spaghetti dogs, draining

We did have fun with our space-creature-looking dinner.  A more sausage-y dog, paired with a hearty sauce was quite tasty.  A more basic hot dog with the pasta sounds a lot less appetizing to me.  

A single spaghetti dog on a plate, prior to sauceWith sauce, these dogs are a teensy bit awkward to eat.  Expect the children to want to twirl the dogs around, thus splattering sauce around the room.  Also expect extra splatters while you figure out how to get the dogs and noodles into your mouth.  Be sure to embiggen the photos to get all the gory detail.

Novelty

After that?  Well, you share out the pieces and eat it!

Sending some love across the miles

Whoever said that food isn’t love didn’t know what he was talking about.  

This is a yellow ruler and a batch of my family’s Irish Soda Bread recipe.  I can’t account for the ruler, but the recipe has been passed down through who-knows-how-many generations of women, each adding, altering and tweaking to her preference.  Each woman (and, I can hope, a few men, perhaps) made up this bread to sustain, warm, comfort, praise, love, or generally provide for their families and friends and bake sale goers.  None of these people, apparently, thought to cut down the recipe.  

I am sworn to secrecy as to the exact recipe, but I must give you a general idea of the scale of it, just in case the picture doesn’t make it clear.  That is 12 cups of flour and 4+ cups of milk.  There is a pound of raisins in there, and a pound of butter.  Uh, and some other stuff (because that is starting to sound too much like a recipe and old Irish women are rolling over in their graves in preparation for haunting me).  But one of the other things is Caraway Seed. 

That’s it!  I promise not to say any more.  Settle down, Mumsy.* 

Anyway, I made a batch of this last night.  One regular bread loaf, one round in the cast iron skillet, a dozen regular-sized muffins, and a billion mini-muffins.  They make absolutely delightful accompaniments to tea, either at breakfast, or perhaps in the afternoon, or right before bed.  They are just sweet enough to sub as dessert, but not so sweet that they can’t be a hearty breakfast.  It freezes well, and keeps forever on the counter even without freezing.  Just add a dab of butter to bring it back from the brink of staleness. 

I learned this recipe from my mother.  So did my sister, though I have no proof that she has ever independently chosen to make up a batch.  As I was stirring the batter, which takes a lot of muscle, I was thinking of my mother.  This bread is all tied up with the best kind of memories of her.  I was remembering funny things, and tea, and being covered in flour ahead of St. Patrick’s Day, as we made dozens of loaves of bread for some reason or other.  Good memories.  

I was thinking of my step-father.  It was from his family that this recipe came to us.  He loved a slice of soda bread or a couple of muffins with a dab of butter and a cup of piping  hot tea (Red Rose, mostly, and he had the little figurines to prove it).  Also good memories.  

When the first bits came out of the oven (the minis, which bake in 25-30 minutes), I broke one in half and took a bite.  As the muffin touched my tongue, I had the most intense, reflexive, emotional wave wash over me.  That one bite of muffin made me weep.  Deep, soul-tugging sobs as all of these feelings just bubbled up and out.  

I’m fine.  It felt good to cry about those things that feel so far away most of the time.  

It was a heady reminder of the power of food, and of traditions, and of the things that connect us to one another even when we’re not together, or not even alive.  

So, like many women before me, I baked this bread with love and care, mixed and baked it as best I could, with attention to every detail and nuance of the recipe (I’ve doubled the baking powder and soda, as well as the vanilla; sorry Mumsy), to feed to my Partner and my children, of course.  But I made it with the intent to wrap it carefully (I used ziplocks and bubblewrap and a beautiful piece of fabric) to mail to my brother and sister, far though they may be this Christmas.  

I hope that it will last them from Christmas to the New Year.  The hardest time for remembering in our family.  

This New Year’s Eve, it will be ten years since our father died of a gunshot wound to the head.  His soul, I hope, is at peace.  The soul of our mother is more in question.  My brother and sister have been somewhat battered on the oceans of life since then, and in whatever way you send out messages to the universe, I wonder if you could send them a little bit of peace this year as they contemplate this past decade.  Perhaps we can all add to their bread in bringing them a little warmth and calm this year of all years.  

***

*Mumsy was my lovely Irish grandmother.  She would have a genuflection and some very colorful blessing to add to a reference to the dead.  How about this one: May her soul rest in the loving bosom of Jesus.  Yes I think we all need a loving bosom of one kind or another.  

I have a tendency to Over-Do

In case you hadn’t noticed.  

I over-do with knitting, and sewing and teacher-gifts and occasionally cooking.  A couple of months ago, I declared this ridiculous to do list.  Look, here’s another thing finished! (The socks, not the child)

 

Those are the new, Hogwarts-inspired, Sonar X3 socks.  I finished one of the shirts mentioned in that post, the other is half-finished.  The other two were cancelled due to a glut of long-sleeved dress shirts.  The Partner Hoodie is done.  The three stealth projects are done.  

I have finished one Deployment sock.  BIL has commenced to being less than familial, and as much as I’d like these socks to be about his service and sacrifice and not about his contribution to our family…. Well, let me just say that a lot of my emotions (and time) go into the things I make for people, and when I’m feeling particularly Not Good about someone, let’s just say that it makes it hard to knit for that person.  But that is one seriously cool sock.  There is a chance that a joke I made about finishing them for Partner, rather than for BIL, was recently misconstrued. But I digress.  

The Mystery Stole is about 1/3 finished.  I love it.  I love making it.  But it requires quiet and concentration, both of which have been in short supply here lately.  It goes on, bit by bit.  

The Urban Aran, Cardiganized is still in the dreaming stages.  

That shopping bag, though not on the list, also managed to sneak into the knitting queue.  It is, as mentioned in a recent post, finished.  

I cast on Kilt Hose *this morning* in the vain hope that I can finish them by early to mid-November.  I’m using Chasing Bunny’s very lovely pattern for Professor Moody’s Kilt Hose (because we just can’t seem to escape dear Harry around here, ever).  

The sanity of that November goal is in question, especially since, right now, I’m in the midst of Halloween Crafting.  I love Halloween.  I think it is a good opportunity to let your imagination run wild and then see if you can make some reality out of it, even if it’s only an approximation.  The educational institution that the elder two sonars attend has, rather cleverly I think, for several years held a Storybook Character Parade on October 31.  Children are invited to choose a character from a book, dress up as that character, and sashay around the campus before the flashbulbs of an adoring set of parents, books in hand.  Various literary and pseudo-literary activities ensue.  This allows any Halloween controversies to evaporate.  

The Sonars, being such imaginative little buggers—er, I mean, darlings, have come up with several lovely ideas.  

Sonar X8 has been inspired by Cornelia Funke’s When Santa Fell to Earth to be, well, Niklas Goodfellow (you might know him better by another name, ahem, Santa).  I dug around in the cupboard and came out with several yards of red felt gifted by a neighbor a while back.  He now has a coat and pants.  Also in the cupboard, some black and red neoprene and fleece, which became spats to resemble big black boots.  Hat will follow.  There will be no beard.  

Sonar X5 had toyed with Animalia by Graeme Base for some time, hoping first to be a Great Green Gorilla Growing Grapes in a Gorgeous Glass Greenhouse, then later to be a Zany Zebra Zig-zagging in a Zinc Zeppelin.  Thankfully (I wasn’t looking forward to using or approximating fur, or stripes) we later came across Enigma, by the same author, and a fascination with a magician has ensued.  It’s going to take me just as long to put this costume together, but it’s a bunch of small things rather than one big complicated (hot) costume, and it can all be done with fabric I have that isn’t a pain in the butt to sew with.  A vest and pants (done).  A bow tie (awaiting tying).  A cape.  A hat (half-finished) complete with “bunny” trick).  

Sonar X3 also started with Animalia.  He was totally fixed on being a Lazy Lion Lounging in the Local Library.  I have made a lion-ish suit before.  A simple lion-colored hoodie with great loops of felt sewn to the hood.  Unfortunately we no longer have it.  Still, it wouldn’t have been too hard, especially after I found half a bolt of upholstery fabric in another neighbor’s trash that was just about the right color to be a lion-y.  But then, we started talking.  We started looking at books.  We started looking at patterns.  And lo, we will soon have the White Rabbit.  Yes, That White Rabbit.  Before you start hyperventilating about fur rearing its ugly head again, know that I’m making only the rabbit’s head, and with white double-nap flannel rather than fur.  And no, it won’t cover his face.  He’s three.  I don’t think that would be wise.  Or cute.  To go with this wonderous head, there will be a vest and of course, a pocket watch.  

What?  For me?  Well, I don’t have much reason to wear a costume, except that there *is* a home football game on Halloween night here.  And I think it would be a shame to pass up the opportunity to do some small thing.  So there’s a very good chance I’ll break out my pink Hallowig and put on the Hawaiian dress.  If it’s not too windy.  Pictures will surely ensue should that take place.  

We bought a few apples yesterday.  Six different varieties to be exact.

Culinary Escapades

Besides eating some very good food cooked right in the family homestead (Partner’s peach cobbler on the Fourth of July was very memorable and yummy), we also ate at several restaurants on our New Mexico voyage.  A note about method: when we travel, we try very hard to avoid places we can eat at home (i.e. chains and franchises), unless we just need to use the bathroom.  

I’ll alphabetize them—for no good reason other than it suits me just now.

Blake’s Lotaburger, Albuquerque.  So yes, ok, this is a chain but it’s not a chain we get at home.  This was pure fast-food nostalgia for us.  I had the Itsaburger, their mid-sized burger, with onion rings.  Really good stuff.  Just the right amount of greasy, raw onion, sharp mustard, crisp rings experience.  For those with an absurd appetite, you could get a triple Lotaburger.  Sonar X8 surprised us by ordering a chili dog, and eating the WHOLE THING!

Farley’s, Roswell, New Mexico.  Strikes me as a place that’s been around for a while, but recently got a facelift, a boob job, and liposuction.  It was shiny, and slick, and I bet they have live music regularly.  They had a great green chile cheeseburger.  The children’s menu disappointed—chicken fingers, burger, mac and cheese, pizza.  The food was good, and the children’s portions were huge for the chicken and pizza (and Sonar X8 again ate the WHOLE THING), but absurdly small for the mac and cheese (what’s up with that).  But we all went away happy.  

Isaaks, Junction, Texas.  This was our attempt to get off the highway on our way home.  Not easy with a tiny town very near to the middle of nowhere.  But we found this smoky little diner a mile or so off of I-10.  A solid place, with a fine selection of typical diner fare.  It could have been a little cleaner, and the teen waitress was clearly terrified of the wrinkled woman behind the grill, but the grilled ham and cheese sandwich with chips and the bottomless cup of coffee seemed somehow perfect on our weary trek home.  The ambiance was fascinating.  A wide array of dead animal heads supervises the dining room, and the front entrance has a display of knife and hunting gear in a glass case.  Good stuff.  

Little Anita’s Grill at Corrales Rd, Albuquerque.  Little Anita’s in Old Town Albuquerque is an institution.  This outlet out on the north side did not disappoint.  I had a shredded beef stuffed sopaipilla that was, so, so yummy.  The children’s menu was much more satisfying and challenging than we get in (too) many restaurants.  The children’s chicken enchilada was easily the best thing I tasted on the trip.  When we go back, we will save room for the cherry empanadas in the case next to the cash register.  

Los Ojos Bar, Jemez Springs, New Mexico.  I think we were the only people in this great little bar who did not arrive there on a hog.  And by that I mean a motorcycle of course.  Nestled up in the mountains, this little bar is a great surprise.  It was lunchtime and the bar was full.  We meandered through to a table in the back, where I was treated to super-good chicken enchiladas.  The vegetarian tamale consumed by Partner almost made me like tamales.  Almost.  The kids’ menu left a little to be desired, but the kids did get a little jello shot (alcohol free) with whipped cream at the end of the meal.  It rained in the middle of the meal (we were inside), which filled the restaurant with that truly delicious ozoney smell of rain that I associate with rain in the desert in the summer.  Awesome.  A great complement to the lazy mountain drive in the rain.

La Salitas West, Albuquerque.  This place had great salsa.  Great service too.   Another really good children’s menu.  Child-sized portions of the good, rich, and interesting food on the adult menu.  Gotta love it.  And the chili rellenos were very very good.  Oh, and great sopaipillas at the end of the meal.  With the thickest and tastiest New Mexico honey.  In fact, the sopaipillas at all of the restaurants were great.  I love sopaipillas.  I miss sopaipillas.  There are  no sopaipillas at the Mexican food restaurants in Texas.  I want more of them. 

Maybe I can make my own sopaipillas.  Maybe.