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Author: michael

Lemon-Basil Chicken Fingers

Lemon-Basil Chicken Fingers

4 boneless skinless chicken breasts1 tablespoon dried basilpepper to taste2 tablespoons soy sauce2 tablespoons lemon juice 2 tablespoons vegetable oil Slice the chicken into 2-inch long strips about 1/2 inch wide. Pat with basil and pepper onto chicken. In a bowl, combine soy sauce, lemon juice, and oil. Add chicken, stirring to coat well. Place slices in a single layer on a foil-lined broiler rack. Let rest for 5 minutes. Broil chicken 4 inches from heat for 4 to 5…

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Fettuccine All’ Alfredo

Fettuccine All’ Alfredo

(This was a favourite of Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford while dining in Alfredo’s in Rome. It was served with a gold fork and spoon. In the thirteenth century it was known as lagano cum caseo.) 1/4 pound Parmesan cheese (about 1 cup grated)1 pound fettuccine1 1/2 cups heavy cream 4 tablespoons butter pepper Makes four servings

Muskrat Love

Muskrat Love

Last night Sandy and I went for a short walk. We ended up at a small footbridge near our house. The footbridge spans a small creek that is lined with tall prairie grasses and flowers. It is home to some small amphibians, ducks, and some rumoured muskrats. The bridge itself is quite nice with a lovely arch to it and at night it is softly lit with some small lights along the handrails. Not too far away the creek is…

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25 km and Still Alive 

25 km and Still Alive 

Last Saturday I walked out to the in-law’s farm. I took a city bus to the outskirts of town, then brace with a fine cup of co!ee I set o! for the farm. You notice a lot more of your surroundings when you walk as compared to when you drive. I was a bit surprised by some of the cool and interesting things I saw along the way. There was dead tree that was about 20 feet in height and…

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Walking to Santiago

Walking to Santiago

Well, I always thought that it would be a wonderful experience to walk the Camino de Santiago.  So, as I was contemplating my 40th year on this big blue planet—that I have not seen nearly enough of—I decided that it was time to set some firm goals for myself instead of constantly saying “Wouldn’t it be nice to one day…”  So, that’s it. 2008. The year I’m walking Spain.  Why am I waiting so long? Well to be truthful, finances….

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Salep

Salep

In winter Turkish and Bulgarian peddlers sold salep, a hot, sweet, and peppery drink, that is both warming and nutritious. With the coming of cold winter days, Turkey ‘s cake and pudding shops begin serving salep in place of ice cream. On the ferryboats which ply their way between the European and Asian shores of Istanbul, many passengers order steaming cups of this warming beverage. Salep is made from the powdered root of several species of wild orchid, and is…

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Starting the reading… 

Starting the reading… 

So, my first book arrived. I ordered a few. I’ll be going through this one in the next few days.  From my quick perusal, I can say the pictures quality isn’t great, but the subject matter makes me want to go to Spain. The book itself is a nice package with a soft matte cover, nice fonts (esp. on the cover, I’ll need to ask Sandy what the font is…), and an nice elegant layout. Hopefully the content will live…

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Promise to myself 

Promise to myself 

Well, I always thought that it would be a wonderful experience to walk the Camino de Santiago.  So a week or so ago as I was contemplating my 40th birthday, I decided that it was time to set some firm goals for myself instead of constantly saying that it would be nice to one day…  So, that’s it. 2008. The year I’m walking Spain.  Why am I waiting so long? Well to be truthful, finances. It isn’t going to be…

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Words

Words

The salep steam rose from a cup and condensed into small beads on the cold windowpane. Klaus raised the chipped cup and blew softly over its hot contents before taking a tentative sip. Cuts, punctures, and bruises he can cope with, but scalds and burns made him irritable. Although the cup looked older than Morrow himself, the sweet drink therein was very good. Klaus smiled and continued to watch the street below through the window’s imperfections and the rivulets left…

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