do you know what makes a good evening?
a glass of wine.
and sister time.
and experimental recipe evenings.
sometimes sister evenings are more important than trying out m.f.k. fisher recipes.
i said that.
my younger sister and i aren't too big on cheese.
but we like the idea of quesadillas.
so clearly, it was time to come up with cheese-free quesadillas.
i know, i know.
that's sacrilege to some of you out there.
if you tell me what foods you don't like, i'll make something without that ingredient for you.
th, we put tomatoes in these, but that was totally optional. you can still make cheese-less, tomato-less quesadillas.
now we can all sleep at night.
ms. m.f.k. fisher had some wonderful things to say about eggs.
i think "how not to boil an egg" was my favorite chapter in how to cook a wolf.
in the beginning of the chapter, she says:
in spite of the complete impersonality of its shell, however, some things about about an egg can be guessed. people who know how can decide several surprising facts about it by holding it before a strong light, and even a zany will tell you that if it is none too fresh it will stand up and perhaps bob a little in a bowl of water.
the best thing to do with aged eggs is not to buy them, since they are fit for nothing, and a poor economy. if you find yourself the owner of a few, change your merchant with no more ado (fisher 229).
by the way, some of our pictures came out blurry.
we were having way too much fun.
i still like them.
think of them as "action shots."
and they are.
a biochemist once told me that every minute an egg is cooked makes it take three hours longer to digest. the thought of a stomach pumping and grinding and laboring for some nine hours over an average three-minute egg is a wearisome one, if true, and makes memories of picnics and their accompanying deviled eggs seem actively haunting (fisher 230-231).
that last quote always amused me.
if i wasn't so content right now, i would go see if that random fact still holds true.
there's a good chance it doesn't.
the first copyright in my anthology, the art of eating, is 1937.
times and knowledge have changed.
maybe i'll check later.
or you can.
after all, who wants to do work when you're eating something as lovely as this?
sometimes ideas turn out well.
and that's a good thing.