My dearest Aunt B (for whom I really write this blog every day although the rest of you are more than welcome to read it too) commented on yesterday's post that she thinks my Chicken & Greens soup looks suspect, kind of swampy. I agree that it isn't the prettiest soup on the steam table, but it's made of rotisserie chicken bones steeped in chicken broth to extract all of the flavor, a pound of greens (mustard greens this time), the biggest bag of spinach Dole sells (about 9 cups), a dozen chopped baby carrots, 2 giant onions diced and caramelized, a little bit of rice for body, salt, pepper, cayenne (just a pinch). Once it's at this point you/I whir the daylights out of it with the stick blender until it's all pureed (you can use a regular blender to puree it in batches but that just makes more dishes to wash). Then you tip in all of the chicken meat from the bird and add a tablespoon of lemon juice at the finish to bring all the flavors to life. The recipe says you can use any greens, even broccoli, but I've gotta tell you this is the soup I want in the middle of the gray and frigid winter as it tastes like an infusion of chlorophyll right into your bloodstream. It's pretty darned good as a quick summer lunch too with some nice fresh fruit on the side. Further proof that you can't judge a book/soup by its cover. (defensive? who me?)
Our street has been alive with jackhammers, diggers, and dump trucks today. The construction company is getting ready to fix all the broken curbs and gutters. We seem to have the biggest incursion into the lawn because we are the proud possessors of what may possibly be the only manhole in the city that's in someone's lawn instead of in the street. Gah!
I added a few rounds to Pink Rebel Girl Hat #3 last night. I know it doesn't look much bigger than the last time I showed it to you but after supper KW and I went over to Colburn Pool (a block from here) for a free water aerobics class. It was a blast. There were over 100 people there and we spent 45 minutes jogging and punching and lunging and jumping and flailing. So. Much. Fun. It'll be every Monday evening until the end of August and it's FREE. (no pictures were taken; you're welcome) They're having free Tai Chi in an east side park on Thursday nights and I'm sorely tempted to go and try it. Depends on the weather.
Look at these lilies. Aren't they gorgeous? And they smell even better than they look, if you can believe it. (I totally need to get out there to hack the mums down so they bloom again in fall)
July 25--Francesco Botticini, Tobias and the Angel. He had on skin-tight black leather pants, a flowing black shirt, and red shoes. Not red sneakers, red evening slippers in soft calfskin with gold embroidery on the foot. He was gorgeous. He was also dead. "No one that good-looking should be dead," Gino said. His partner, Wilson, stood staring down at the contorted body, his hands in his pockets. "What the hell difference does that make? Every day ugly people and pretty people die. Young people die and old people die." Wilson rocked back on his heels. "You, Gino, have the weirdest ideas I've ever heard." Gino folded his arms across his muscular chest. "I don't say that pretty people are always nice, you won't hear me say that. I just think murder is no way to deal with a person's issues about another person's appearance." "And what makes you think this guy's looks are a factor in why someone killed him?" Gino pointed with his elbow. "Just look at him, he's gorgeous and I don't even play on his team..." Wilson flung up his hands. "You think you can tell his orientation just by looking at him?" He shook his head and turned away. "I need a drink."
Ooh, I like that. I hope Gino and Wilson come back to visit again. And now I'm going to get dressed (what?? I'm retired) and go spend a coupon on some black knit fabric to make some leggings. Maybe JoAnn's has some cotton and lycra, that's what I'm hoping for. See ya.