Sonnet Recipe: @drblow's Awesome Bean Dip

First open up a can of refried beans
(The vegetarian ones are the best),
A jar of salsa -- you know what this means! --
We're making the best bean dip in the West
(Or East). Shred up some lovely pepper jack --
This dip is hardly dip without the cheese! --
And if you find this combination lacks
A kick, a can of jalepenos, please!
Mix all this up and heat it on the stove
Until the cheese melts well and doth combine
With all the rest, till it's a treasure trove
Of smooth and awesome flavor, truly fine!
It's great with chips and also over rice,
And you might find some other pairings nice.

Sonnet Recipe: Middle Eastern Chicken

Brown up a pound of chicken, cut up small,

Then add a tablespoon of chicken stock,

A can of diced tomatoes and, in all

Two cups of frozen pepper mix and rock

That in the skillet till it boils and cook

About two minutes. Then add half a cup

Of raisins and a cup more stock and -- look

Ya gotta have some garlic!* -- then mix up

Some thyme, allspice, cloves and a bay leaf, too;

Black pepper and some cumin. Stir that in

And simmer for just 20 minutes. You

Will dig what then results. Now, I have been

A-draining off some liquid from what's done

To cook the couscous in, but that's me, hon.

Spice amounts:

GARLIC: 2 cloves, minced

THYME (dried): 1 1/2 t

CUMIN: 1 t

ALLSPICE: 1/4 t

CLOVES (ground): 1/8 t

BLACK PEPPER: 1/8 t

In Which Is Inaugurated Tomato-Rama 2010

My parents went to Sam's Club this "black" day

And all I got were just ten lousy pounds

Of fine tomatoes. With these, they did say

"We like your sauce and paste," I think, so -- 'zounds! --

E'en as I munch on turkey re-heatings,

I blanch and peel two dozen romas, then

Will spend the rest of this fine evening,

A-cooking them on down. Such time has been

Ideal for catching up on podcasts, so

Here I begin, but, spoiled for choice, which shall

I start with? Quirks and Quarks? A novel? Oh,

There's Planet Money, too. How my morale

Doth rise as I so contemplate a night

Spent in the kitchen, growing e'er more bright!

In Which There WILL Be Turkey Leftovers!

The turkey's roasting in the oven; soon

It's pop-out timer will emerge. I'll laugh

And think of a Jean Shepherd tale and croon

To hide my mirth; I'll not repeat that gaffe.

No horde of hound dogs will invade and set

In motion such a chain of happenings

That send this bird a-flying, though the threat

Is not outlandish; next-door's dogs do sing

Like Bumpus' pack. And the trajectory

Our dinner might-could travel's similar.

It could land somewhere odd and pop out free

Hilariously. But this won't occur

Except within my head and, just perhaps

The universe next door, where I may lapse.

In Which A Pork Roast Is Thawed And Thawed And Thawed

One might think that, with all that it's been through

This pork roast sitting on my countertop --

T'was frozen, partly thawed when Sears did screw

Me over last week, frozen again -- stop

Me if you've heard this one -- and yet somehow

Today, when time to cook it up has come

And it's been thawing all day, up to now,

It's still a solid rock of pork! It's dumb!

But microwaves, for these occasions, are

Appropriate, though, when one's slightly drunk,

A challenge to set properly. The bar

Is not set too, too high; I won't flunk

My cooking course tonight -- though I will say

I'm glad the turkey's fresh for Turkey Day!

In Which A Secret Is Divulged

Root vegetables, they keep a Dark Side strong
And healthy, which is why we redesigned
The Death Star, but we sort of did it wrong:
It's planet killers currently have mined
For turnips solely -- and, as we all know
It's rutabegas that Stormtroopers crave,
That make them smile, that make their helmets glow,
But as Mike pointed out, we still can save
Our efforts to a small degree. Retune
Those mighty cannons, calibrate those guns!
It's ne'er too late to try, this lovely June
No wait, is it November? Call my sons --
And tell them to come back. Ackbar was right!
It is a trap. Turnips again tonight!

Huh? What? Moar Cold Medicine!

I had to leave the house today: too soon.

It could not be avoided but, I'd say,

It set me back some days. Inopportune?

Try horrible. Now I just want this day

To close, though there is much yet to enjoy:

My folks came bearing dead cow for to grill

(Indoors, I think. The wind would sure destroy

Attempts to barbecue; though he's the will

My dad's a one-eyed monster just now, for

He got his mad bionics this morn, wears

An eyepatch while it heals up, all the more

To keep him indoors!). And, yes, meanwhile, there's

Some baseball game tonight, I hear. I might

Not make it through all that, though, not tonight.

Sonnet Recipe: Roasted Garlic Hummus

Roast up some garlic (to do that, just wrap

Some tinfoil round a bulb off which you've cut

The top; drizzle some olive oil and tap

The powers of your oven - easy, but

It takes an hour at 300F). While

That's going, grab your food processor and,

Dump in a can of chickpeas with a smile,

Add 1/2 T of lemon juice (how grand!)

And 1/2 t oregano. Now take

That yummy roasted garlic; dump it in

And grind and mix it well until you make

A lovely paste (you might need more oil, then,

But be judicious). There: voila! Chow down

With pita, veggies, crackers -- go to town!

NOTE FOR COOKING NEWBIES: Conventional abbreviations used here (i.e. T = tablespoon, t = teaspoon) (they fit the meter better)

In Which It's Chicken Licken Gross

If Great-Great-Grandma would not call it food,
Then really it is not, quoth Pollan, and
I find this valid, though it's sometimes rude
To point it out. Today though, through the land
(Of Internet if not America)
Comes forth this tidbit: Chicken's only meat
If it all comes from one bird, which, no duh
But somehow many think it's fine and sweet
When it's extruded like soft serve, all smooth
And pink, and shaped at will, containing bits
We'd never eat, from many birds. I'll soothe
You not at all; this stuff just gives me fits.
It's why I don't go dining with a bird
Or other critter, sans the farmer's word.

In Which Ground Is To Be Broken

My worst friend has the best plan for my yard:
A rented rototiller soon will tear
Into its soil; I hope it won't be hard
To do, but if it is, of course I'll share
A lot of beer to thank him for the toil.
'Tis not the whole expanse he'll overturn,
Just a small garden plot. We've lovely soil
Here in Cheyenne, though of course there's concern:
The growing season's short, but still I hope
To grow some beets and turnips, carrots, some
Nice fennel, parsnips, rutabega. Nope,
Not going for the fancy stuff. That's dumb
Here on the high plains, unless one has built
A full greenhouse. That's "someday" to the hilt!

In Which I Sonnetize A Recipe For Homemade Granola for @PaganVixen

Four cups old-fashioned oats; with them combine

A half of toasted wheat germ and of nuts

(Sliced almonds); and some cinnamon, so fine,

Two teaspoons; and one eighth of salt (takes guts

So far, no?). Then boil in a saucepan these:

One-half cup each of honey and orange juice,

Two teaspoons of canola oil. Then please

Stir in one teaspoon of vanilla. Sluice

This liquid o'er the dry stuff and mix well.

Spoon into a lasagna pan and bake

At 350 for twenty minutes. Hell!

Once it is cool add dried cherries and take

Care it's a cup, dried cranberries, add too.

And there you've got granola! Toodle-oo!

In Which I Do Not Say Meh To Gadgeting Up Some Fruit

It's almost done, my latest, luscious batch

Of freezer jam, which just last night I made.

Just strawberries and sugar; there's no catch,

Except to add some pectin. I won't trade

My product for a store-bought version, no!

I know just what is in it, and enjoy

The process and the way it makes eyes glow

(My dad's as those of at least one more boy,

Though really quite a few like it, so I've

Some trading partners, game meat for some jars

Of this good stuff). The happiness I strive

E'er to attain is made of this. My stars!

And it's so simply done I sometimes feel

That I am cheating, but the work is real.

In Which Death Star Shortbread Is Baked

The kitchen's why the KATE STATION is mine.

Today we put it through its paces well.

While no-knead beer bread is a staple, fine

Baked goods are most uncommon here. I'll tell

You this: my expectations have been met!

A galley-style has always seemed the rule

Wherever I have lived before, which meant

A "one-butt" kitchen; more butts would be cruel

(That's people and not cigarettes) and we

Just get into each other's way. No more!

A pumpkin pie and shortbread baking spree

Has taken place, and scarcely was a chore

So simply done! And Sithmas treats are here:

With Death Star shortbread, how can we not cheer?

In Which I Try To Elucidate Why I Love Thanksgiving So

Each holiday together is a small
And sep'rate miracle as time goes on.
I dislike somewhat that we have to call
A special day to do it, then be gone,
But so we do and here we are again,
To dine and dig each other. As these go
Thanksgiving is my favorite, has been
E'er since one in a church in college, so
Damned groovy, that, it changed me through and through.
Good food and love can always make a day
A special one; add friendship to it, too,
And gratitude comes naturally, I'd say.
I know for most today just starts a round
Of celebrations - but this one's profound.

In Which I Have Mixed Feelings Over Vat-Veganism

Last night I made elk chili for our meal,

Tonight homemade tomato sauce I plan,

Homemade tomato paste, too. Yes, I feel

Quite proud to make my own. I do think Man

Does best when he's an omnivore but I

Don't do the supermarket meat thing, no.

The chemicals and cruelty just don't fly

With me. Per William Gibson today, though,

I ponder now a future in which meat

Comes not from animals, milk not from cows,

Eggs not from birds; all vat-grown. Could be sweet,

Or could be even more disgusting. How's

It strike you? We already eat such stuff

As great-grandma would not call food, sure 'nuff.

In Which A Tasty New Recipe Is Born... Well, Maybe Not

My sister hath rare culinary skill:

When I found frozen tater tots a-athaw

Upon the counter, she did not grow ill,

Suggested an idea, which I, with awe,

Share here: her notion of just what I ought

To do with them. And it's not wholly bad.

Dear sister Kris, she knows that I've been caught

With no bananas, and that I have had

A green tea smoothie daily for a year

(Green tea, banana, honey, frozen fruit

All blended well). She blurted out with cheer

That tater tots might be a substitute

For those bananas. Truly, she is wise.

She's single too, and easy on the eyes!

In Which I All But Wee Myself Over... A Toaster?

We all know that I love my BSG

And miss it so now that it's at an end.

But can you all imagine all my squee

To see this thing? It's sent me round the bend.

I'd love it just for all its shiny chrome,

My decor tends to modern, metal-shine.

But it's a Cylon toaster! How my home

Doth need it! For it I would build a shrine.

It doesn't just resemble Cylons, no:

The toast it makes takes on a Cylon face.

And think on how my own face, it would glow

Each morning when I take my toast. In space

Or here on Earth, it would be a fine thing.

O Cylon toaster, how of thee I'd sing!

In Which I Gloat Over A Well-Earned Beer

Someone's idea of heaven surely is

Hot chicks with power tools. He'd love today,

When Kris and I were same. To ruin his

Imaginings a bit, a cop held sway

O'er these proceedings; that would be our Dad,

Armed with a hammer, prybar and a scowl

I'd never want turned my way. Yes we've had

Us quite a time. Now I've thrown in the towel

For one day. I must say it ain't half bad,

This deck we built for Krissy, and we've earned

The Bud Light we are gulping on it now,

Exhausted, bleeding slightly and sunburned.

Our next item of bus'ness is some chow,

We'll grill up on my sister's brand-new grill.

Some dead cow and grilled corn, oh yes we will!

At Suppertime, I Muse On My Crock Pot

My parents are still here due to the snow

That's falling fatly on us in Cheyenne

And to my invitation to do so;

Round Two of hospitality's the plan.

It's cocktail hour as I start to wind up

The preparation of our fine repast:

A chicken dish with apples I've lined up

Since 'round the crack of noon. I cut up fast

An onion and some garlic cloves; I thawed

Some frozen chicken and some orange juice;

I mixed that juice with spices and, no fraud

Dumped all into a crock pot, turning loose

The slow heat on the food, right then, at noon.

Now to add in some apples; ready soon!

Winter Has Found a Cruel New Way to Mock My Fragile Hopes and Modest Dreams

This morning at my local grocery store,
Was laid for me a welcome, glad surprise:
Strawberries for a dollar, nothing more,
Per pound, and those of quality and size
And scent to make me wonder when I am.
It's wintertime, yet they they were, so ripe
And ready to be made up into jam.
I bought up four; my debit card did swipe
And brought them home with great alacrity --
But then I came back home to find a mess:
My ceiling weeping like a willow tree,
My kitchen floor awash in snowmelt, yes,
Those roof repairs they did that raised my rent
Last time around were money so well spent!