CHOCLAT SIN...#14

  It has recently been discovered that certain previously unknown cosmic patterns in the Mayan Zodiac have come to light.  We are informed that in addition to the stars, moon, sun, and Chinese horoscope, we now can add the Sign of Chocolate.  Needless to say, a huge mystery about myself has been solved...seems I was born under the conjunction of the Sun, Mars, and Chocolate!  Explains a lot!!

Traits of those born under the Sign of Chocolate are risk taking,(especially racing for the last piece of chocolate in the box).  We are motivated to use chocolate to solve everything, and are quick to respond to the chocolate needs of others.  Our eagerness to please is based on our complex intensity, similar in structure and DNA to chocolate.

If so endowed, do be helpful to the chocolate deprived, who will thank you for helping them to understand that witholding and yearning are not solutions that lead to mind/body fulfillment.  You will be thanked for your commitment, truth, and humility.  

I've posted lots of yummy "choclate sins" in the past..this week, in honor of the novices among us, let's just do one truffle at a time..remember...

Chocolate loves you!!

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Prompt #1/ Magpie...

Photo from willow/ life at willow manor

THANK YOU WILLOW, for the invitation to join your Magpie Tales.  Always looking for inspiration...what could be better than this mass creativity!  Please continue to drop your ideas like crumbs in the forest...I'll follow you anywhere! 

SECRETS

I poured my whispers

into the dim luster of the pitcher,

my lips almost kissing the rim.

The cold taste of pewter

on my tongue,

seemed like a little bite.

The game I played

spoke only secrets

into the vessel.

When I looked within

I saw a tiny storm

picking up speed,

and made haste

to tell more of my tale.

The pitcher gathered my words,

and entwined them

with the pale tulips

leaning on the edge.

c copyright 2010/ all rights reserved

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Un-Valentine...

vegetarianwoman.com

  I'm just not that much into it (St.V. Day)...  Maybe it's the bump on my head.  Don't want to rain on your parade....I try to be romantic...this is what happens!

From Two Ghosts/ poems:

When I was younger

I had a chocolate man.

And he was good.

But he was milk chocolate,

and I was looking

for bitter sweet.

    Just to show you that my heart's in the right place (hmmm), I really wish you the sweetest day!  Here's a cute little get-up to seal the deal!! Guys, you're on your own...

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CHOCLAT SIN #13

THE TRUTH ABOUT ME  IS THAT IT'S REALLY HARD FOR ME TO stick to things.  I get an idea, solidify the plan, really mean to follow through forever and then it sort of becomes...oh, you know.  Blame it on being an Aries.  Blame it on the Bossa Nova.  Whatever.
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Therefore, here I am, it's Choclat Sin #13 week, and I'm thinking, would it be so wrong to skip a chocolate week?  I sort of feel like pasta today.  Silky, rich, cheesy strands of fettuccine.  With bacon, no less. 

I hear that there's a recipe for chocolate covered bacon.  Who would have thought so, and how hard would that be?  Tell you what, let's not totally abandon the choclat sin, let's just melt some semi-sweet, pour it over crispy bacon and let each other know how it turns out.  Deal?  Deal!! 
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FETTUCCINE ALFREDO with BACON
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1 (9 ounce ) package fettucinne
2 slices applewood-smoked bacon, chopped
1 tsp. minced garlic
1 tbls. all-purpose flour
1 cuo low fat milk
2/3 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
1/2 tsp. salt
2 tsps. chopped fresh parsley
freshly ground pepper
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1.  Cook pasta according to package directions.  Drain in a colander and reserve 1/4 cup cooking liquid.

2.  Cook bacon in a large non-stick skillet over medium-high heat until crisp.  Remove bacon from pan, reserve drippings.  Add garlic to pan, saute for 1 minute.  Sprinkle flour over garlic, cook 30 seconds, stirring constantly.  Gradually add milk, stirring constantly.  Cook 2 minutes, until slightly thick.  Reduce heat to low.  Gradually add cheese, stirring until melted.  Stir in salt and reserved 1/4 cup cooking liquid.  Add hot pasta to pan, toss well to combine.  Sprinkle with bacon, parsley, and pepper.  Yield: 3-4 servings.

Cook a few strips of bacon, anytime, day or night.  Pour melted chocolate on bacon.  Let harden, or not.  Eat.

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I'd rather...

REDUCED
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I'd rather not be tucked into a shroud
in the last gleam of the sun.
Boxed. Sealed.
Lowered to eternity.
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I'd rather let my bones turn into pumice,
more readily be dust unto dust.
Better a cliche'
to send my soul on its way.
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I'd compel my spirit
to soar as a ghost.
I don't have to be
with the risen just yet.
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I will hide in walls,
and as you pass
I'll be the peeling paint
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where sometimes you may see
a water mark that looks like me.
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Reduced, but present.
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c copyright 2010/ All rights reserved.
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No Brainer...

I WAS TRYING TO RELAX IN PREPARATION FOR MY CT SCAN. It was to be determined if my brain' s function had been compromised since I slammed my head a few days ago and reacted like an old time cartoon, eyes spinning, legs bowed and wobbly. I was showing symptoms where everything that could go wrong, was going wrong. I took my doctors advice and showed up for the scan.
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Hospital space is at a premium these days, and doubling up is quite common. So there I was on the bed, squirming a bit to become comfortable before sliding into the scanner, when I noticed a bit of a fuss going on next to me. Imagine my surprise to see a couple of the technicians attending to some bare bones, fingers splayed, elongated toes pointing upwards. I thought they were upset about something, when I heard one of them exclaim tut-tut, but no, he was actually referring to the Boy King, King Tut, who amazingly, really lay there, (barely recognisable) a bag of bones amidst some mummified linen. Once more to endure yet another intrusion by history to solve his 3000 year old mystery: natural causes or murder? The information that a CAT Scan can discover!
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A better patient than I, for sure, as only a dead King could be. I, twitching with stress was being whooshed into the scanner for 3 minutes of noisy zapping to determine if I'd have to spend the rest of my days like a wind up toy. But Tut's inspection would last longer, being given another 15 minutes of fame to try yet again to solve his many mysteries. Why oh why did he die, natural? murder? Was he really only 17 at the time, was he actually royalty, (what if he was merely a shoe salesman? Always had cute sandals on.). Whereas I, merely mortal, without legend, would be thrilled to get the news that I wouldn't have to emulate Daffy Duck for another day.
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Don't forget the curse that came along with the treasures that emerged from Tut's tomb when Howard Carter removed the magnificent trove in 1922. I wondered if a 3000 year old flu was wending its way to me at every poke of the mummy. Could I go from the CT Scan to get some vaccine against the Mummy Flu? I'll ask. And remember an earlier test on Tut tried, but couldn't quite determine if the Boy King died of a blow to the head. So how's that for a coincidence?
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Here I lie, scanned, and determined to find out if a blow to my head by a villainous bathroom sink has put my brain on hold. The Enigma next to me also awaits a diagnoses. Results for both will be announced at a later date.



My result...Brain intact!! Same old moi!
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CHOCLAT SIN.. #12

IT'S NOT AS IF I RUSHED TO MAKE THIS LUSCIOUS DESSERT the second I layed eyes on it. I sort of spiritually absorbed it first. I liked the simplicity, the "no fuss" look of it.. and to call a pie "silk".... really appealed to me. Delighted when I stopped meditating on it and finally made it!

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CHOCOLATE SILK PIE

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7 ounces chocolate sandwich cookies (about 17 cookies)

4 tbls. unsalted butter, melted

2 cups heavy cream

6 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped

2 cups miniature marshmallows

3 tbls. sifted unsweetened cocoa powder

1 tbls. sugar

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Preheat oven to 350 deg.F. Grind cookies in a food processor. Mix in butter until crumbs are moistened. Press into a 9 inch pie pan. Chill for 15 minutes. Bake until set, 10 to 15 minutes. cool on a wire rack.

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In a saucepan over medium-low heat, stir 1/4 cup cream, chocolate and marshmallows until smooth, 5 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool for 15 minutes.

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Whip 1 cup cream until soft peaks form. Add cocoa, beat until stiff peaks form. Stir a third of whipped cream into chocolate mixture. Gently fold chocolate mixture into whipped cream. Spoon mixture into pie shell, smooth top. Chill and set at least 2 hours. Whip remaining cream with sugar and serve with pie. 8 servings.

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If you'd like to drink a wine with this I suggest a light bodied red dessert wine such as Sandeman Porto Ruby.

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Bashed..

I FACED THE MIRROR THIS MORNING WITH A BIT OF TREPIDATION. But really grateful to be actually standing there. A slight purple, green, yellow tint had settled on the left side of my forehead. Reason for that? Bashed my head in yesterday morning..
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You'd think that after living here for sooo long I'd remember that I have a big white sink in the bathroom. Well, I didn't. I decided to brush some cat fuzz off my leggings. Holding my hair dryer in one hand , I bent down quickly and somehow just hit myself upside my head. Left side of my forehead, an old place that has a natural bump on it by this time, because that's the spot that always got smashed when I was a kid. But with such warp force that a lurking enemy couldn't have done more damage.
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Blackness, then hitting the floor, then dropping the dryer..then being sort of conscious and wondering if I had just killed myself. And broken my dryer. Then I thought of that poor Richardson actress who died last year after slipping on the ice and hitting her head and dying not then, but a few days later. And so maybe I still had time to sort things out.
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So there I was, on the floor, whimpering and realizing that all the doctors visits and tests
I've recently gone through won't save me from an instantaneous disaster. I really believe that we must live our lives as if we were the Twin Towers, and that at any moment a terrorist can seal our fate. In this case, I am my own terrorist. In other words, live for the moment.
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So, I thought, if I can stand, whom shall I call?? My doctor? But it's Sunday, really have this thing about bothering people..I don't like to die on someone's day off. Then I thought of an ambulance. What a spectacle that would be, me too proud to get on a stretcher, hobbling along behind the equipment, just to show that I'm a good little soldier. Then I thought that I'd just go to the emergency room at the hospital, by myself, take the subway to save money, and hope I don't faint or something (die) and embarrass myself.
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Or as I did in actuality, got up, stared at myself in the mirror, whimpered some more, watched bump increase in size, wondered if it's fatal, got some ice (wobbly legs got me to the kitchen). Pressed ice to forehead...oohhh, pain and cold...Decided that if this is it, at least I won't suffer.
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Got a plan together: 1. Maybe visit medical facility at Duane Reed around the corner..how much do they charge? 2. Call Dr.. Not so fast..still have my hang-ups.. 3. What to do about my food shopping? Will have to buy enough to last a few days, just in case I live. 4. Suddenly felt hungry..a good sign, they say. 5. Test hair dryer..IT WORKS! Will definitely do my hair, just in case I do have to go somewhere. 6. Study face and gingerly touch bump. All of this sped through my mind in a nanno-second.
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What I really did : 1. Blow-dried my hair, brushed a bang over bump. 2. Had a sandwich. 3. Dressed for Arctic winter. Wrapped scarf as high as it would go while still maintaing breathing. Pulled hat as low as it would go...ouch! 4. Went to market..will have enough to eat for several days, by then I imagine my brain will have done what it must. 5. Tired..but DON'T GO TO SLEEP. That's what they say if you have a head injury. Except by last night I was really out of it, fell asleep during Grammy Awards, Emma, World's Worst Cooks...etc. 6. Awoke at 1:00 AM and had some cheesecake...jeez, I was semi-delirious, for heaven's sake! 7. Awoke this morning!..Surprise! I'm alive! Purple bump, yellow edges, looking somewhat like a Picasso. Still achy breaky when I touch it. So don't touch it.
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TURN-OFF

Tenants milling about, trying to go home.

IT'S GETTING TO BE A HABIT. EVERY YEAR OR SO, I receive a notice from Con Edison (the gas, electricty company) full of regrets. I immediately feel their pain. Because it will soon be my pain too...unless...
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Alas, the management of the building I live in seems to be engaged in the Sherry House/ Con Ed yearly gotcha marathon. Maybe just to take our minds off impending terror trials/ strikes, disappearing subway routes, (due to renovations...where did that station go?), unmentionable inflation, etc. So I just received a neatly written note informing us that management has not paid a $1660.00 security deposit , and soooo sorry, but unless Con Ed receives the payment very soon they will have to turn off service to the commonly used areas of the building.
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Hmmm, let me see. That would include interior lights, heat to the building, (now 16 degrees), garbage compactor, laundry room, and oh yes, ELEVATOR! A mere hop, skip and a jump for us to traverse 18 stories. And of course, no deliveries to be received, no visitors (or maybe) bearing flashlights or glowing candles, perhaps all the shrinks in the building meeting their patients on a landing or in the lobby, no light for postman in mail room...I'll stop now. BUT, this is nice...my own personal space, my apartment will not be affected, because I maintain such a fine relationship with Con Ed. I pay my bills. So it looks like I'll be able to flaunt my brightly lighted apartment, in the midst of a darkness that may invite my gothic imagination to take hold.
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Last time around I called management in a panic...they asked me to hold...I'm still waiting. I found the supe (superintendant) who reassured me with the NY answer...Nahhh, ain't happenin'. Met fellow tenants clutching letters..did you get one too? I did phone Con Ed...Press 1 if you speak English...I finally got to press 7..very polite rep asked me if that was a form letter? Nothing to fear but fear itself... I actually bought into those winter games. Turned out, the supe was right. This time, pretty much a big yawn...What, me worry?
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But what if?
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J.D. Salinger

photo/ Lotte Jacobi
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JEROME DAVID SALINGER/ January 1, 1919- January 27, 2010
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J.D SALINGER, the author of "The Catcher In The Rye", has died at the age of 91. Many will remember him, many tributes will be made to this most reclusive of writers, whose reputation rests with a slight body of work with a huge influence: " The Catcher In The Rye", "Nine Stories", the stories about the Glass family: "Franny and Zooey", and "Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters", among others.
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For a big portion of my younger life, I had myself confused with J.D. Salinger. I certainly didn't see him when I looked in the mirror, I being a reasonably comely young woman. And he being a He, and already on his way to being a world class recluse. But first he became the idol and role model for every aspiring wiseguy writer to surface from their complete submersion in his prose. Whenever I put pen to paper...we did in those days, yellow pads, blue Bics, I had to make the decision who I would be that day: Holden Caulfield, or Franny or Zooey. I blushed at how much the Glasses fit in my family's clothes.
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I can say that I've never fully recovered from the spell that J.D. Salinger cast over me. A wry and slightly cynical voice was stirred when Salinger's prose appeared. Still breaking away.
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Some say that Salinger fulfilled Holden's desire to build himself, "a little cabin somewhere with the dough I made and live there for the rest of my life..."
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Rest in peace.

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