Search Results for: Free PDF Quiz Newest The Open Group - OGEA-101 Certification Dump 🌒 Download （ OGEA-101 ） for free by simply searching on ➽ www.pdfvce.com 🢪 🟧OGEA-101 Reliable Test Testking
Some days, there is time to make fresh pasta. Fancy desserts. Elaborate multi-course meals.
Most days though, it’s all I can do to get out the door in the morning toting a breakfast and lunch, and on show days, dinner, so that I can avoid the oh-so-tempting bounties of college food available at work. Especially in January, when fresh food is somewhat difficult to come by and most of my cravings are for something warm and filling.
But I’ve found an answer. An answer to the winter blues, the I-don’t-feel-like-cooking doldrums, and the whoa-we-have-so-much-leftover-turkey-from-the-holidays reality in my freezer.
Sierra’s turkey salad.
I know I’m probably way late catching this train. I’ve never really been a fan of chicken salads and won’t come within ten feet of tuna salads, so I suppose I thought turkey salad would be equally unpleasant. I. Was. Wrong.
Ah, summer. Welcomed in over Memorial Day with cookouts, good friends, and sunny weather, it’s a season of bounty in most of the States. In North Carolina, summer came (and often comes) early: the farms and gardens here are already flush with zucchini, peaches, blueberries, tomatoes, and even peppers.
I, however, skipped my market trip this week in favor of a long weekend visiting dear friends in Madison, Wisconsin.
As seems to be more and more common for me, I spent a lot of my trip observing not just the city itself, but the food. And let me tell you. I was pleasantly surprised by what Madison had to offer.
Just two blocks from my friends’ apartment, the crowds at the city’s largest farmers market were rivaled only by the huge quantities of locally produced food. At first glance, the market here looked like Durham’s two months ago: green spears of asparagus, waxy baby onions, and the first tender snap peas covered the tables.
But there were also treasures not easily obtained in the Bull City.
One would think that local market-goers would tire of cheese in the Nation’s Dairyland. But no… many booths, each of them packed with customers, purveyed cheeses aged for years and curds made only hours before (some of which may or may not have returned in my backpack with a small ice pack). Even beyond the tiny white tops of the farmers market, it was clear that Madison loves its food.
When asked if I could bring scones to a “Ladies’ High Tea”, I found myself suddenly faced with two questions:
1. What exactly is a Ladies’ High Tea?
2. How the heck do I make scones?
Scones are something that I always hear about, that people some to rather enjoy, but that I’d never made before. But what better excuse to learn a new recipe than a chance to share it with new friends?
Not really having the time to experiment with several recipes, I began hunting for a recipe that seemed simple, basic, and classic. I was, however, incredibly surprised by the range of this pastry, and have now added many recipes to my list to try in the future. Apple cheddar scones? Blueberry lemon scones? Cinnamon scones?
You might think that since Christmas has passed the holiday party recipes will be over. You would be incorrect.
I love the build-up to Christmas, and must confess, have never enjoyed the week between Christmas and New Years as much as the week prior. But! I have several days in Oklahoma with my mom’s side of the family, and it’s not really Oklahoma unless there are 15-20 people in my Grandma’s house cooking, eating, talking, and laughing for several days straight.
Party mix has been a holiday treat at my house and my grandma’s for as long as I can remember. Yes, I know that there are a gazillion recipes for this, many of which can be found on the sides of any Chex cereal box. (I assume that Chex stays in business entirely due to holiday party-goers and their demand for handfuls of this salty, toasted treat.)
This was also the first time I’ve made a trip to Colorado since leaving for college eight years ago that coincided with luscious autumn colors glazing the mountains and meadows of home. The scene was nothing short of breathtaking.
But you’re probably not here for my photos of leaf-peeping and coasting down Hesperus Hill. I’ll wager you wanna see some dang cake!
The benefits of apartment dwelling are many. We’ve managed to get our leasing office to fix everything from bathroom light bulbs to water filters in the freezer to warped baseboard in our storage room. We have the freedom to move when and where we choose (within the limits of an annual lease, of course) and there is not much gossip over fences about whose lawn is the most unsightly (though I expect when the time comes, mine may take that prize).
There are, however, many downsides as well. And on a week like this, leading up to the ceremonial end of summer, the fact I begrudge the most is that I am forbidden from using a grill on our little balcony. I get it, I do, we can’t have apartment buildings combusting every time a three-day summer weekend rolls around. Still, I’m cranky about it all the same.
But there are times when, despite the glaring lack of grill, I just want a damn good hot dog.
Now I typically don’t like much fuss for my hot dogs. A bun, a dog, and some ketchup will serve me just fine. But this fancy-pants one became my new favorite after a friend of mine in North Carolina practically forced it upon me when I confessed I’d never stopped by the hot dog cart outside our building. Though the cart is no longer a staple on Duke’s campus, the legacy lives on, and I pity the Duke students going forward who won’t benefit from the culinary stylings of Pauly Dogs.
Christened on the menu as the “Chips Plus”, this hot dog features smoky flavor from barbecue sauce and Old Bay seasoning, some cheese for good measure, and a delightfully salty crunch from some cheap potato chips. It’s a perfectly blended solution of delicious and ridiculous. And most importantly, you really don’t need a grill to make them awesome.
There are things I daydream about. Sometimes, they are kitchen things.
In these kitchen daydreams, the sauce pan I need is never at the back of the cabinet. All my spice bottles are the same shape, same size, same color, and they’re all labeled in the same font. Sunshine floods across my countertops and splashes to the floor, filling the room with light. My knives are always sharp, but I never cut my fingers. Avocados grow locally. Also cashews and cocoa beans and grapefruits.
Le sigh.
Some dreams stay that way. But other dreams? Pasta-and-mushrooms-tossed-in-sun-dried-tomato-cream-sauce dreams? Oh yeah. They’re COMING TRUE.
Last summer, while in the midst of packing up my Ohio life for our pending move to Colorado, I was also menu planning a dinner for almost 20 people at a remote, 9700′ mountain lodge with gas refrigerators, gas ovens, and limited electricity. For dessert, I wanted something that was easy but impressive, required neither baking nor freezing, was cheap to make but wasn’t boring, could feed a crowd, and overall, was heartbreakingly delicious.
A unicorn, I thought.
BUT THEN. Icebox cake. To the freakin’ rescue.
Why, in the name of all that is good and delicious in this world, did I only start making this last summer? I mean, who knew such a perfect summer dessert could exist?
Did you guys know?
WELL. If you, like me, were in the shadows, let me show you the light. (more…)
Colorado doesn’t have to deal with hurricanes. Earthquakes there are rare. Only the occasional tornado finds its way to the ground in the eastern half of the state.
But we do have wildfire.
Well over half of the Centennial State is composed of thick forests, but they are very unlike the humid, deciduous forests that blanket the majority of the Eastern United States. Nearly every summer, odds are good that in some part of the state, plumes of smoke will rise on the horizon at one point or another. My childhood summer memories are speckled with forest fires, some that looked merely like a faint haze in the distance, and others whose flames were visible from my bedroom window.
Each summer brings fire, but some years are worse — far worse — and this is certainly one of them. Following a winter of little snow and a very dry spring, even the tiniest sparks have ignited blazes across the state, many of them near (and advancing into) major population centers. It’s only June, and already the skies are thick with smoke, thousands of acres have burned, and hundreds of families have lost their homes.
Yet while much is lost, the communities affected by these fires band together to protect what they can and to reach out to evacuees, firefighters, and relief workers. Though I am not currently a resident of Colorado, it will always be my home and I still want to help as best I can from 2,000 miles away.
One particularly incredible means of assistance has been created by a coalition of Colorado design businesses: Wildfire Tees. These designers and artists have put together some stellar t-shirts to remember this summer’s devastating fires, and all the proceeds from their sales will go both toward immediate fire relief and toward the arduous rebuilding that lies ahead. I’m hugely inspired by these individuals, who are using the artistic skills and resources they know best to make an impact in this urgent cause while at the same time are providing an easy avenue for others to make an impact, too.
We live in a big world and are faced with many crises, but with each act of generosity toward a neighbor in need, we create a better world for everyone. If you’re able, I encourage you to buy a tee or to support the efforts to fight the Colorado wildfires in whatever manner you can. You can find many ways to help at HelpColoradoNow.org, as well as at the Denver Post. At the very least, send your rain and rainy (though not lightning-y) thoughts toward Colorado. It could sure use them.
I write to you now from a new home! In mid-July, Brad and I packed up our lovely Ohio apartment, left our jobs, and drove nearly 1300 miles across the continent to Colorado. It’s a domestic destination I’ve had for a long, long time: having spent eleven years away, I’m finally living back in the land of dry air, big skies, and seemingly endless sunshine. And our new apartment, full of windows and light, has the view to prove it.
It’s so great to be back!
And spectacular vistas aren’t the only benefit Colorado has to offer. It’s peach season here, and Palisade, Colorado is famous for growing wonderful peaches. They’re so perfectly delightful raw — juicy and cool and bursting with flavor — that I can rarely justify breaking them down for cooking. But I’ve been on a fruit crisp kick in recent months, so I thought I’d give one a try.
Originally, this recipe was designed for halved peaches, with their skins, and with a buttery almond mixture smushed across the face of each before baking. The peaches form their own little baking dishes this way, and there’s no hassle of peeling or slicing. However, I found the peach skin to be someone irritating, so I gave it a shot in a more traditional slices-of-fruit-buried-by-crumbly-goodness format. I definitely prefer the latter.
