Butt but

Garlic roasted potatoes. With rosemary. I miss Ro.

Simple herbed roast chicken, enema style. I didn't have any beer cans, so I threw herbs and wine into a IKEA stainless steel pencil cup and shoved it up the chicken's ass. Twas definitely one of the more flavorful and moist roast chickens I've made. But the skin not as golden as I would like. Perhaps I need to play with the oven temperatures a bit and coke up the herb rub with sugar. But definitely tasty. The chicken should be like Donatella Versace. Crispy golden skin with herbs and booze flavor running throughout. 

El perro loco

After the crippled dog incident and resulting doggie physical, the vet suggested putting Preston on a low impact poached chicken and rice diet. So now I'm cooking arroz con pollo for the dog. Aie-ya! The things you do for the ones you love. So much more work than kibble. Preston picks out the chicken and doesn't like rice. He probably learned that from me. As our eating habits are gradually swapping places, I will be eating cereal out of the dog bowls soon.

Cous cous with the figs and pistachios. I've been putting handfuls of pistachios into everything lately. I must be nuts.

And since I was still hungry, supper #2 is baked stuffed quince. Just like they do in the ancient olden days. Also with pistachios.

Gobble de gook

The living room sofa has entered the Duck Tape stage of it's life-cycle. Lately, my own stuffing has been spilling out of my pants too, so I can empathize. Sadly, using duct tape to keep my pants up may have painful consequences. Luckily, human ingenuity has invented solutions just for this issue.

Some early prep work for tomorrow's Early Thanksgiving 2008. Cranberry persimmon relish. Because we have oodles of jiggly hachiya persimmons this week. I have to admit, I have a gooey soft spot in my heart for the ridged cranberry tube that comes out of a can. And how awesome is that "splort" sound when you dump out the cranberry tube?

Rum spiced pecans. Warm salty nuts. Heh heh heh.

It's quince tarte tatine season again. This year's quinces have been much less fragrant than last year's. I will go yell at them next time at the farmer's market. Farmer Fix it!

Fluffing

A preemptive persimmon harvest. Bitter from last year's destroyed persimmon crop, this year I fire the first volley against my sworn enemies. Squirrels. I picked all of the persimmons on the tree before those damned rodents can sink incisors into orange flesh. May those rats with fluffy tails starve this winter! Damn squirrels. I curse thee!

This persimmon has a penis. My yard seems to produce an overabundance of suggestively shaped fruits and vegetables. Not sure what kind of aura's my fruit trees are picking up on. Must be the water.

Fun guy

It doesn't take much to trigger a chorus of "My Humps" in my head.

Hot today. Over 100 degrees. It's nearly October. Damn climate change. I blame Dick Cheney.

Wild mushroom spaghetti. Well, not exactly wild. The 3 different kinds of perfectly unblemished hen of the woods, king trumpet, and shimeji mushrooms were cultivated at a Japanese laboratory under strict temperature and humidity conditions. Once the $50 million dollar, 250,000 square foot, green energy powered, zero landfill mushroom lab opens near San Diego, these mushrooms would be both organic AND local! Not exactly the kind of local organic farming the hairy pitted granola earth moms have in mind. But tasty.

Pop wrecks

Hannah doing her best Britney on a Starbucks run. Bring on he papparazzi!

Lullaby Bunny plays Rock-A-Bye baby, vibrates, then puts you to sleep when you tug on the handle between the legs. I practiced some self restraint and did not point out some of the disturbing connotations of Lullaby Bunny to the harried father.

A rare quiet moment for Naomi. The camera does not capture her devil child tendencies. How could something so small be so loud?

Hannah and I got tattoos like drunken sailors on shore leave. Though I doubt drunken sailors would specify Finding Nemo tattoos. Britney might though.