January 22, 2010
Rice and Beans
I have nothing better for you, so I am going to give you a *recipe*.
One of Maya's most favorite foods in the world. Rice steamed from a rice cooker, nice and sticky, the way it should be, but the beans are particularly delicious. I'd give you the recipe, but... well... I'll tell you how I make them so you get an idea for how I cook...
Andrea's Black Beans
Finely chop 1/2 onion. Saute in a a sauce pan in a smallish glug of olive oil (the dark kind for dipping bread, not the "light flavor" kind.)
Add in:
1 v. large can of black beans, drained
Liquid to cover (mostly chicken broth, today also juice from one fresh orange)
A splash of wine (a red is better, but a white will do so long as it isn't too sweet)
1 tsp. or so of sea salt
Spices until it smells nice (tonight: black pepper, cumin, oregano, nutmeg)
Simmer without a cover until the liquid is mostly absorbed, or until you have grown tired of waiting for dinner and it looks good enough. Serve over rice. Recommended side dish: Raw sliced bell pepper or cucumber.
The resulting beans should have a lovely, creamy flavor. Nom. Let me know how it turns out, if you make it.
My kitchen is: Recently reorganized, but woe, the dishes, they tower.
January 02, 2010
Right!
Posting here due to popular request. It's been dark here for two big reasons:
1. Writing about Sasha has been increasingly difficult, because it is a violation of her privacy, and she has been upset numberless times when somebody asks her in person about something I've written here. I'm inclined to respect her wishes in this.
2. I'm increasingly writing for money and not for love, and I have only so many words in me in any given day. As I enjoy having money quite a bit, I am more inclined to do income-bearing or potentially-income-bearing work first.
So! I might post here some more and again, and I might not. It's not that I don't love you, it's just that I love other things *more.*
My kitchen is: Some dirty dishes scattered, but overall not terrible. Unless you were to look into the refrigerator, a dark place from whence few have lived to tell the tale.
