Granulatin’ Bad

Posted on August 19, 2013 by mindfulmagpie

Sure. I look pretty harmless. I’m polite to the neighbors, fairly unobtrusive when I leave the house, as middle aged ladies often are. No one could look at me and know that in August, within the confines of my home, I’ve got skills, mad skills. Because when boiling sun and steamy air turn the tiny green figs into golden orbs, I’m Granulatin’. Granulatin’ Bad.

You’re no doubt familiar with someone else who may appear mild in the outside world, but who leads a whole other life right under his neighbor’s noses. That’s right - Walter White.

Don’t think I have anything in common with Walter, or Walter with me? We’ll just see about that! Here are some similarities:

Photo Source: IMDB

Obviously we’re both bad you know whats.

1) Highly desirable product: Walter’ s blue meth is apparently the stuff of dreams. OK, fine. But you should see the eyes widen when I walk into the yoga studio with a box of twelve gleaming jars of fig preserves. Excited murmurs float across the studio. When class is over they make a beeline for every last jar. Unconditional acceptance of your product by a yoga class says only one thing: 99.1 % pure, total quality.

2) Large amount of raw materials needed: Walter buys his in more than one location to avoid suspicion. But I HAVE to buy mine in multiple locations because no one stocks as many jars or as many boxes of pectin as I need. And unlike Walter, because I deal with a live ingredient, I can never predict the exact amount of supplies I need. They may suspect me of something at the grocery store when I dash in wearing sticky shoes and a stained T shirt and buy ALL of their eight ounce canning jars, but they know not to question me. I dare them to.

3) Specialized work environment and equipment: We each need to set up a pristine, industrial workspace. Mine is the kitchen. Walter may have a gas chromatograph while I use a spoon and my own mouth for quality control, but the concept is the same.

My lab.

Walter’s lab. Photo courtesy of breakingbad.wiki.com

4) Total concentration: We can’t do anything else while cooking. We’re basically unreachable. When my harvest begins, I am in a flurry of picking, washing, cutting, cooking, sterilizing. My hands get too sticky to even think of touching a phone. So don’t call me. Walter and I agree that production stops when we say it stops.

5) Hazards: Yes, it is hazardous work. You are familiar with what Walter has faced through the years: beatings, torture, kidnapping, and even death. But what about me? I’ve bravely faced my share of challenges. Here is a short list:

a) Balancing on the part of an eight ladder where it says not to stand

b) While keeping up with a bag of figs over one shoulder

These babies aren’t light.

c) While grasping at leaves and branches and clutching them to your chest so you can pull off the figs with the other hand, sweat dripping off your brow,

d) And a swarm of mosquitoes gets close and personal with your armpits,

e) And getting down from said perch,

f) Dealing with the crazy violence that seems ubiquitous in the fig tree world

Nobody saw nothin’.

g) And even having to hide some ominous, foreshadowing symbols from my family, like this.

Inside the house, once I have gathered my figs I still have to endure deep, deep stickiness from spilled sugar and gooey figs, boiling water, hot pans, an extended cleanup, and last but not least, the sick feeling that comes from tasting preserves fifteen times. Let me tell you, I’ve paid my dues!

I’m tough enough to take the heat.

Walter and I, we’re a pair. We may threaten, cajole, and intimidate, but we get the product out. Still, we have our differences. First he sells his product for top dollar while mine is free of charge. Maybe I could sell mine, but unlike Walter I have no partner to handle the distribution end. Second, he can’t taste his product, but I can. Mr. White always uses the same recipe, while I I experiment with new flavors. This year I’ve added a little something different in every batch. Walter never divulges his recipes, but I can. I’m not trying to corner the market.

Walter in his work clothes. Photo: breakingbad.wiki.com

As fig season winds up, so does Walter’s last season. I don’t have a good feeling about his prospects, but he may surprise me yet. While we wait to learn his fate, won’t you try some of my fig preserves? Really. They’re free, and you won’t have to worry about going to jail! Postscript: This years flavors: cinnamon, cinnamon and ginger, rosemary and port, pepper, basil, amaretto, and that’s all I can remember. Tell that to the D.E.A.

The Warmth of Another Sun

Posted on May 5, 2013 by mindfulmagpie

I couldn’t get warm at all yesterday. In the South may the fourth should conjure pictures of sunny sidewalks and folks out in shorts and flip flops, but this year we were subjected to torrential rains and temperatures in the 40s. 40s!!!! I spent most of the day doing what I do in February - huddling under a blanket with the space heater on. As I occasionally covered my icy nose with my sleeve, I asked myself if it were true that just one week ago I had been basking in the sun in the Napa Valley?

Why yes, I promptly answered myself, because talking to myself helped my blood circulate to my extremities. Just last Saturday, I told myself, you were luxuriating in golden sunshine at the Fremont Diner. And I reassured myself by looking at the pictures I had of that very day. One can’t be too careful; frozen people have been known to hallucinate.

A little background: I accompanied my husband on a business trip to the Bay area. We were fortunate that our daughter could fly up from Pasadena and spend the week with us. Maybe I should be writing my first post about the trip on how wonderful it was to get to see her for the first time since Christmas and how she warms my heart, but I’m just too cold. So let’s move on to the Fremont Diner. And by the way, all those corny expressions about being kissed by the sun, soaking up the sun’s rays, the sky washed clean? Those are all true.

On Saturday we drove to the Napa Valley. We had big plans for the night, but we’ll discuss those later. I sat in the passenger seat of the rental car, reading on my Ipad ,while my daughter and husband discussed the logistics of the trip. I was free to gaze upon some of the sights I had missed so much: the Golden Gate Bridge, Marin County, and the surrounding countryside. Thanks to the GPS we were guided in due time to the Fremont Diner, where my daughter’s dear friend Steve had advised us to eat lunch.

We clambered out of the car in our short sleeves, sunglasses and cameras and found our way to the hostess stand. There would be a 45 minute wait but we were in no hurry. And we would be in good company, with the other 50 or so folks waiting for tables on the …… not a patio really, more of a gravel yard.

You could set a spell in the sun.

We got ourselves some drinks and sat under umbrellas. For me there was a somewhat surreal feeling. We were in California but I could have sworn I was in Alabama. The restaurant appeared to be in an old gas station. Drinks were served in mason jars. Fried chicken was on the menu. And the place had a friendly Southern vibe.

We passed our forty five minutes visiting the chickens and watching the other waiting folks. Women in heels walked hesitantly across the gravel to picnic tables where chickens darted and scratched at the dirt. I suppose high heels on gravel could be considered an indication that one was not in fact in Alabama. Mothers attempted in vain to keep their children from chasing the chickens. Some waited in the grass rather then on the gravel.

A little privacy with her lemonade.

This little Missy was determined to catch a chicken. Her Mother thought otherwise.

But her brother did score a reasonable rock collection. He presented one to my daughter as a gift.

Hmph. Humans everywhere!

Finally a brilliant turquoise picnic table opened up for us. And oh yes. The three of us knew this food: Southern, fresh, down home, plentiful. Who knew we would come all the way from California to eat good ( and in the South we don’t use that term lightly) barbecue! Of course the trouble with this food is that one cannot stop eating until every last glorious bite is gone. My daughter and I had the barbecued chicken sandwich with a delectable side of fresh green beans, black eyed peas and tarragon. My husband had the same, only with pork. My husband was thoroughly pleased but my daughter and I had pushed beyond the boundaries of our appetites. What had Steve been thinking, sending us to a meat restaurant?? No dessert, please!

We paused for a few more pictures before we resumed our journey. I think we were all just too full to get back in the car.

Whatever killed the skeleton inside the truck…. it wasn’t the cold!

The sun and sky were endless that day.

The next stop was, unbelievably to our stomachs, a wine tasting. There was no room for wine. but we would cross that bridge when we came to it. For now we had full stomachs, endless sunshine and no humidity. Aah! Memories really can keep you warm!

Come On Over!

Posted on March 22, 2013 by mindfulmagpie

Hey! I’m having a party and YOU”RE INVITED!!! We are somewhat limited in that this is a ladies’ dinner party on a Monday night, but if you’ll join me while I get everything out for tonight you will FEEL the excitement!!! Come on; I’ll show you!

Since I’ve recently returned from Istanbul. we’re having a simple Turkish theme. The menu is Turkish red lentil soup, homemade bread, salad with a Turkish lemon dressing, and Turkish delight for dessert. The soup recipe is from Bimur’s Turkish Cookbook. I was able to use my dried mint and pul biber (red pepper). They were some of my treats from the Istanbul Spice Bazaar.

I’ve already cooked our food so it’s time to set the table. This is a no-fuss party, so we’re using our clear dishes which can go in the dishwasher. I’m putting some fresh mint on every plate; later we will use it in our soup. Our dinner napkins, which had to be pressed but thankfully not starched, have a simple but timeless design. Timeless design is also Turkish! Spices from the Istanbul Spice Bazaar will be part of the table decor, as well as party favors for the guests. They’re even shaped like dolmas, don’t you think?

Now let’s get out a few pretties. It is nothing but pure Magpie Fun to get pretties out for a party. We have fancier things, but tonight is more casual. Here are the wine glasses I painted a few years back. Which one will you choose?

And look at these cocktail napkins. They are an estate sale find. The package said they are paper but are supposed to look like silk. I don’t know if I will serve any chai, as many ladies don’t want caffeine at night, but I’m ready with my Turkish tea set if there are any takers.

Here is a cute little guy I’ve had for a while. I bought him somewhere and then rudely shoved him into the back of a kitchen cabinet where he languished for years. If I hadn’t had to clean out my cabinets to be painted he might still be there. He will be on hand tonight to help the ladies with their olives.

I will serve the dessert on this lovely torte plate given to me by a very special lady in my yoga class. It may be a little large for the occasion, but the lady who gave it to me is so peaceful and generous I would like for her spirit to be a part of the gathering.

So that’s it - an easy dinner party for a weeknight, combining Turkish and Southern hospitality! The only thing left to do is pop the bread in the oven. Wait a minute! I need to go press my hostess apron!

Yes, waist lines did used to be smaller, but no matter. I can get it around me. Thanks for being here a little early to help me set things out. I get such an adrenaline jolt before a party that I’m always afraid I’ve forgotten something. But of course that’s part of the fun too! Oh! Wasn’t that the doorbell?

Winter Holiday Club

Posted on January 6, 2013 by mindfulmagpie

Who wants to join the Winter Holiday Club? Requirements: Wish fervently for snow so that we can all stay home. Go nuts when it does snow. And most importantly, sing the Winter Holiday Theme Song. I’ll teach it to you now. It is sung to the the tune of the song “Happy Holidays”. The lyrics are “Winter holiday.” Just those two words. As soon as the first flakes fall, or as soon as the forecast seems bound to actually come true, members are to serenade other humans and pets with the lovely song. If no one is around to serenade, then the telephone may be used to share your joy. Dancing while singing is optional. After numerous stanzas, or when you are are told to please stop, go find your snow clothes and get outside!

Since so many of you will be joining, I’ll go ahead with my Club Report. I, as founding member of the Club, have gotten a head start on the snow season by spending the new year in Banner Elk, North Carolina. That is not cheating. Many of us do not live in a place where we can count on snow every year. We have to go places where we can be surrounded in winter loveliness.

My destination at Banner Elk was Boulder Falls Retreat, owned by our dear friends Beth and Jim. Their mountain oasis, which they rent out through VRBO when they are not using it, has everything one could want in a mountain hideaway: mountain views, privacy, comfy furnishings, toasty fireplace, hot tub, and a waterfall on the property. Who wouldn’t dream of being snowed in there, sipping a warm drink by the fire, and listening to the rushing mountain stream outside?

Boulder Falls Retreat. It’s only a few years old.

As we drove to the cabin a few days after Christmas, I thought I might get my wish of being snowed in. About an hour out of Banner Elk we ran into snow, sleet, and hail. Yippee! Would it stick? We didn’t know, but when we left the cabin to eat dinner, the roads had become more treacherous. We decided not to venture further that night, and pulled off the road to eat at a place I will not recommend.

Jim is not a member of the clergy, but it looks as though he is either praying that our car made it to the restaurant or that we would be able to eat the sub par food.

Jim is not a member of the clergy, but it looks as though he is either praying that our car would make it home from the the restaurant or that we would be able to eat the sub par food.

Back at the cabin, snow continued to swirl around us. I wanted to take pictures, but night pictures of snow are way beyond my skill level. Sadly, lots of the snow had blown away in the morning. But I was not to be deterred. Right after a heavenly breakfast of sour dough bread French toast on a bed of melted butter and warm maple syrup, ( Good food is a vital part of WINTER HOLIDAY) I donned my “I only wear this stuff once a year” snow togs, grabbed my camera and got outside for WINTER HOLIDAY!!!!!

Rushing water outside the cabin.

Don’t worry. I’m the only one out here.

Since I was apparently the only one celebrating WINTER HOLIDAY, I was on my own to explore the environs, and try different settings on the camera. Being alone in the snow is a delightful solitude. And it was magical! The world was white, crisp, and clean. I could hear only my crunching boots and the icy water tumbling over the boulders. Overnight, the world had decorated itself just for me.

The waterfall behind the house.

I continued a ways down the road before making my way back to the cabin and sliding down some boulders on their property to climb some railing onto one of the porches. From there I could take pictures of the view beyond the cabin.

There were no takers for the rocking chairs that day.

Later that day, my hostess and I drove into Boone to try to stimulate the economy while the men visited the local family billiard hall. No alcohol, no cola, good burgers.We celebrated the evening with a hearty winter dinner of kale, sausage and pasta.

Downtown Boone, North Carolina

The next morning the four of us debated whether to go snowshoeing or to hike the trail at Linville Gorge Sate Park. Because our hosts had more company coming that afternoon we opted for hiking at Linville Falls. But first we had to bulk up with this mountain breakfast of crispy hash browns, eggs, crumbled bacon with toasted sour dough bread. Disclaimer: If you rent the Boulder Falls Retreat, the owners will not be there to cook; you’re on your own.

Was I in danger of becoming spoiled?

Without a doubt. Especially with the freshly ground Peet’s coffee my husband made us each morning.

Vigorous outdoor exercise is a vital part of WINTER HOLIDAY. The idea is to challenge yourself physically and go inside and treat yourself to whatever goodies you want. Linville Gorge had just the kinds of hills and trails I needed to hike. And the views were spectacular.

The falls.

Here I am with our hostess. I was trying not to look as though I were afraid I would fall off into the chasm below.

These beautiful vistas were worth the climb over a sometimes slippery trail.

This fungussy stuff reminds me of hydrangea leaves.

Shiny snow crystals.

After many bracing ups and downs, and photo ops, the four of us were tired and chilled. And we ALL recalled an establishment we had passed on the road, advertising coffee and desserts. How convenient that we would be passing by there on our way back!

Winter Holiday Club members are always on the lookout for a place like this!

After our exertions, did Linville Mercantile ever hit the spot! The proprietors don’t need publicity from the likes of me; they’ve been featured in Rolling Stone and other publications. Apparently the area has ”Merlefest”, and the Rolling Stone writers dropped in then, and kept coming. And if you had walked in that place with a freezing nose and freezing hands and smelled that sour dough bread fresh out of the oven, you’d keep coming back too.

It can be hard to remain civilized when someone sets down a loaf of steaming hot fresh bread in front of you.

I think the owner said there were one dozen eggs in this cake.

Oh, the steaming hot bread and butter! Oh, the apple butter! Oh, the pineapple upside down cake! Have mercy!I f I hadn’t had the option of getting up to take pictures I don’t know if I could have maintained decorum; I may have reached right cross the table and crammed an entire loaf of bread into my mouth.

Other customers also trying to act civilized.

More desserts for next time!

I wish I could have lingered to shop.

Or set a spell on the porch.

We arrived back at the cabin in time to prepare for six New Year’s Eve guests: two neighbors with their two houseguests for cocktails, plus two more houseguests for Beth and Jim, Allan and Janet. My husband and I didn’t know any of these people, but we joined right in, chatting about where to stay in Italy, weddings in Scotland, and life in the Czech Republic. See what good fun the Winter Holiday Club members experience?

When the cocktail guests departed, we enjoyed a chicken and olive dish for dinner, with bourbon cake for dessert. Grouped comfortably around the fireplace. the four of us welcomed the New Year with toasts of homemade limoncello. My only regret was that I was way too full to contemplate getting in the hot tub. Maybe next year.

All too soon it was morning, and time for my husband and me to make the nine hour drive home, where no snow would await us. We had time for one more mountain breakfast at the Grandview. By the time we all ordered I could see we were going to have the whole works: corned beef hash, grits, biscuits, eggs, sausage - in short, everything people our age are not supposed to have. But we did have good company while eating it!

We took leave of friends old and new right there in the parking lot. I didn’t think to ask them if they want to join the Winter Holiday Club. But I think I will. How about you? I’d love to hear YOUR WINTER HOLIDAY reports! See you at the next meeting, but in the meantime, get started memorizing those theme song lyrics!

Some Enchanted Evening

Posted on December 3, 2012 by mindfulmagpie

This blog is dedicated to finding and celebrating the small but sublime moments in life. The older I get the more pleasure I take in the joy that can come from everyday encounters. I try to always be aware of opportunities to discover something or someone new, and when I do, it’s downright delightful. That’s why I’ve been wanting to share the story of some lovely experiences I’ve had lately right in my own neighborhood, at Cafe Fontana.

All dressed up for the holiday season.

The old grocery store was decorated, lighting up the area around the restaurant.

How long has it been since you, upon leaving your favorite neighborhood restaurant, received a big hug from the owner? That’s what I thought. But the hug I got from owner Valerie Schranz as I was leaving Cafe Fontana last Saturday night felt so warm and natural that I might have been leaving the home of some dear friends. It wasn’t until I got outside the restaurant that I realized “Hey! She hugged me!”

A couple enjoying their evening.

I have mentioned Cafe Fontana is this blog before, saying that is in in a restored old house and owned by a family that lives nearby. The building used to house a fast casual restaurant that seemed to want to be a neighborhood restaurant. I tried that place a few times, but it just didn’t work for me. Everything on the menu seemed to have creamed spinach; I just knew it came from some huge bag in their freezer. They were often out of the beers I ordered, and the waitresses didn’t seem nearly as upset about that as I was. I was disappointed because in our neck of the woods we have way too many chains with lackluster menus and service. I had hoped for a respite from that.

Finally one day I saw that the old restaurant sign was gone and replaced with a new one. Did I dare hope that this new establishment would be any improvement over the last? About that time I happened to see a short article about the place. which mentioned their intention to make customers feel welcome. I was sure they meant what they said, but I was a little skeptical; after all, the previous tenants had been quite friendly. But their food was not good.

Since I have now dined at Cafe Fontana several times I can say with authority that it exceeds it predecessor in so many ways that the two cannot even be compared. First, the physical space has been altered to add a small bar where patrons can see everyone who walks in the door. Beyond the front room, the acoustics have been improved by adding curtains at the windows and gentle flowing fountains. The changes add a sense of intimacy so lacking in the space while under previous owners.

And the food. I would not be writing this if the food were not fresh, delicious, unpretentious, and carefully prepared. I am afraid I will not do the restaurant justice if I try to talk about the entire menu. After all, I am an experience reviewer, not a restaurant reviewer. So just close your eyes and imagine fresh, warm bread served with a white bean puree spread and roasted garlic. Imagine a crisp, tangy salad made from local ingredients, followed by a filet so tender you can cut it with a fork, or plump scallops on a bed of pasta.

See what I mean?

It’s not just about the food, but you won’t regret ordering this!

Add a bottle of wine or a glass of the house red, each very satisfying and reasonably priced. You will surely want to try a gelato or expresso flan for dessert.

Gelato. They had me at pistachio.

I would not hesitate to take my own adult children there, which is saying something, as they have lived in such places as New York City and San Francisco, where excellent fare can be found everywhere.

But let’s move on to what makes an evening at Cafe Fontana so special, at least for me. When I walk in I feel I have escaped the normal passage of time, into a place where I can absolutely take my time and enjoy doing so. In an unspoken way I feel urged to slow down and enjoy the art of a well prepared meal and satisfying conversation. And isn’t this the way our evenings should be spent, in the moment, released from the daily stressors, recharging emotionally?

Last Saturday night my husband and I dropped in with no reservation. Mrs. Schranz, who actually remembered us from previous visits, explained that there would be a short wait. We didn’t mind; we could sit at the four seated bar and watch the comings and goings while having a glass of wine. As always, we felt welcomed by every staff person we encountered. When we went to our table Mrs. Schranz remarked we would be getting our “usual table.” How romantic!

And just as we expected, we had a long, slow, enjoyable evening that we could not have had elsewhere for miles around. Originally I went for the food, but now I go for the whole experience. I know I’ll be there for hours, and I’m glad. Cafe Fontana has made the luxury of an enchanting evening possible for all its visitors. I hope that wherever you are, there is a place like Cafe Fontana to take you in, pamper you, and send you out with a hug. You know you need it.

Queen of the Book Club

Posted on August 25, 2012 by mindfulmagpie

Many women, and I am sure some men, belong to a book club these days. Like all groups, book clubs develop their own social norms. In some groups there is no overt or covert censure for not reading the book you agreed to read for the evening. Meanwhile, members of other clubs may send a invisible chill across to the room to that unlucky woman who announces once again she hasn’t gotten around to reading the story. Some groups even have compulsory attendance rules. Yikes.

Now MY Book Club, since you want to know, falls into the very- few -rules- category. Members take turns hosting, and the selection of books seems to happen by some unseen democratic process. I am not an original member of the group, so I don’t know if they ever said things in the beginning such as , “Let us read books of literary merit. Or at least no insultingly bad best sellers.” But I am grateful that no one in the group ever suggests reading some type of annoying treacle. Because I wouldn’t want to burst out in some unflattering pronouncement if someone were to make such a suggestion. And though we try to respect one another’s book suggestions, my ardent bibliophilia requires me to maintain some standards.

So of course we discuss the book of the evening, and compare one another’s responses to the characters, plots, and prose. Spirited debate takes place over whether character A actually had an ulterior motive when he undertook Action B. When one member announces she couldn’t put a particular book down, another will declare she found the characters in the very same book completely boring. We are all equals in the realm of book discussion. No member is admired more, or less, because of her reading habits.

But if you want to locate the Queen of The Book Club, go where the food is. Because good food is one of the top reasons to have a book club. Wine is another. Listen to the talk in the dining room. What talented, genius woman baked that warm crusty bread, oozing with melted butter? Who conjured the Indian vegetables sizzling with tumeric and roasted cumin seeds? Who churned the homemade mango ice cream? For SHE is the Queen of the Book Club for the evening.

The Queen’s subjects identify themselves by their adoring glances at their plates, their raised eyebrows and bugged- out eyes, and their enthusiastic expressions of gustatory pleasure. Mmmm! MMmmm!! MMMMM!!! Oh. Chew. OH!! Yes! I’ll have what she’s having! The subjects approach the Queen with supplications to release her recipe and the its provenance, a request to which she complies with appropriate grace and ceremony, as befits a royal. The Queen declares her dish was something easy to do, and that the other members can also achieve the same results. Recipes will be emailed forthwith. She doesn’t preen, but appreciates each and every subject.

The higher culinary standards of the group have challenged me to look for dishes to bring which at least to me seem more novel - ha- than the average fare. I have at times felt the warm glow that comes from assuming the Crown for the evening, when I ran across a new recipe on a blog, and decided to give it a try.

Have YOU ever been the Queen of The Book Club? If so, what dish did you make? For those who have not yet been the Queen, I am from time to time going to share some recipes I have made which catapulted me into royalty. Because I think everyone deserves to be a Queen, if only for the evening.

Today’s selection is Very Green Tahini Dip. I saw this recipe on Tasting Table and was intruiged by the combination of ingredients.

Very Green Avocado-Tahini Dip

Recipe adapted from Wild About Greens, Nava Atlas (Sterling)

Yield: 1½ cups

Cook Time: 4 minutes

INGREDIENTS

4 ounces (about 4 cups) baby spinach or arugula

1 large, ripe avocado-halved, pitted and diced

⅓ cup tahini (sesame seed paste)

Juice of 1 medium lemon

2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh parsley, cilantro or dill

½ teaspoon ground cumin

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Crudités, pita chips or fresh pita bread for serving

DIRECTIONS1. Wash the greens in cold water and transfer to a large skillet with the water clinging to the leaves. Set the skillet over medium heat and cook, stirring often, until the greens are wilted, 3 to 4 minutes.2. In a food processor, add the wilted greens, avocado, tahini, lemon juice, parsley, cumin, and salt and pepper to taste. Process with 2 tablespoons of water to yield a medium-thick consistency (add up to 2 more tablespoons of water if needed). Serve with crudités, pita chips or fresh pita. Calories Per Serving: 108; Sodium: 161 mg; Total Carbohydrate: 6 g; Fiber: 3 g; Fat: 9 g I thought the 1.5 cup yield sounded as though it could be skimpy so I was generous with my arugula.

Fine so far. The my scooped out my avocados.

I think this is about where I found that I had indeed thrown out that drippy looking jar of tahini I used to have in the refrigerator for all that time. But I had sesame seeds so I could just make my own. A little tapping on the computer and I had my recipe for tahini from a blog called Cinnamon Spice and Everything Nice :

Ingredients

sesame seeds

olive oil (not extra-virgin)

Instructions

For every cup of sesame seeds start with 2-3 tablespoons olive oil and add more as needed. Make a little or a lot.
Toast sesame seeds gently over low heat stirring often, about ten minutes, they don’t need to take on a lot of color. Remove from heat and allow to cool.
Add the sesame seeds to the bowl of a food processor along with 1/4 cup of olive oil for every cup of seeds, pulse until a thick paste forms, scrape down the sides, and add more olive oil if needed until it reaches a consistency you like. Store in glass jar tightly covered in refrigerator.

But did I have an entire cup of sesame seeds? I did not! Was my kingdom at stake? I threw in a few pumpkin seeds with the sesames and hoped for the best.

They pureed nicely, so crisis averted , but I think when I buy the enormous bag of sesame seeds I plan to get I will make my own tahini ahead of time.

Then I got kind of hypnotized watching the ingredients pulsing in the food processor. It was getting close to time to go so I forced myself to put the dip in a bowl. About that time two eminent food critics - my son and one of his friends - walked into the kitchen. My son wrinkled his nose a little because I had failed, inexplicably to him, to make a meat dish for him to taste. But taste they both did. Once, then twice, then once more, until I had to say, “Uh guys, I’m taking this somewhere right now.”

If you love arugula as I do you will love the nice bite it gives. If not, spinach will work. I served this at the book club with small sweet peppers but chips could be used. And folks, it was a winner. It was green, vegan, snappy, and delicious. And I smiled benevolently at all in the dining room, for I was Queen of all I surveyed.

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