Via Camille Paglia's column at Salon.com, I found this link. Enjoy.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Huevos Flamencos
While the wife's away, I've been experimenting with dishes I know she wouldn't be interested in. Tonight it was "Huevos a la Flamenca," a baked eggs and veggies dish from Spain. Here's the recipe, from The Best of Spain: A Cookbook, by Alicia Saacs, Collins: 1993. I'm a big fan of the Spanish way with eggs.
2 tbsp. olive oil
1 garlic clove, minced
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1/4 pound cured ham (serrano or prosciutto) cut 1/4 inch thick and diced
1/4 pound chorizo, cut in 1/4-inch slices
1 1/2 pounds fresh or canned tomatoes, finely chopped
1/2 teaspoon paprika
6 tbsp. dry white wine
1 tbsp. minced parsley
salt and freshly ground pepper
8 large eggs
8 asparagus spears, cooked
1/2 cup peas, cooked
1/4 pound green beans, cooked
1 pimiento, preferably freshly roasted
Heat the oil in a skillet and saute the garlic and onion over medium-high heat until the onion is wilted. Add teh ham and chorizo and saute 1 minute. Remove the chorizo with a slotted spoon and set aside. Mix in the tomatoes, paprika, wine, parsley, and salt and pepper. Cover, and cook ham mixture over low heat about 15 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. Divide the tomato mixture among 4 shallow individual casseroles, each about 6 inches wide. Gently slide 2 eggs into each casserole and arrange chorizo, asparagus, peas, beans, and pimiento on top. Bake until the eggs are just set, about 5 minutes in all; check for doneness after 4 minutes. Serve in the casseroles. Serves 4.
Note: I varied this slightly. I didn't have any ham on hand, so I doubled the chorizo and diced it instead of slicing it; I also left it in with the tomato mixture, instead of removing it. I also replaced the asparagus with canned artichoke hearts.
2 tbsp. olive oil
1 garlic clove, minced
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1/4 pound cured ham (serrano or prosciutto) cut 1/4 inch thick and diced
1/4 pound chorizo, cut in 1/4-inch slices
1 1/2 pounds fresh or canned tomatoes, finely chopped
1/2 teaspoon paprika
6 tbsp. dry white wine
1 tbsp. minced parsley
salt and freshly ground pepper
8 large eggs
8 asparagus spears, cooked
1/2 cup peas, cooked
1/4 pound green beans, cooked
1 pimiento, preferably freshly roasted
Heat the oil in a skillet and saute the garlic and onion over medium-high heat until the onion is wilted. Add teh ham and chorizo and saute 1 minute. Remove the chorizo with a slotted spoon and set aside. Mix in the tomatoes, paprika, wine, parsley, and salt and pepper. Cover, and cook ham mixture over low heat about 15 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. Divide the tomato mixture among 4 shallow individual casseroles, each about 6 inches wide. Gently slide 2 eggs into each casserole and arrange chorizo, asparagus, peas, beans, and pimiento on top. Bake until the eggs are just set, about 5 minutes in all; check for doneness after 4 minutes. Serve in the casseroles. Serves 4.
Note: I varied this slightly. I didn't have any ham on hand, so I doubled the chorizo and diced it instead of slicing it; I also left it in with the tomato mixture, instead of removing it. I also replaced the asparagus with canned artichoke hearts.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
For those of us who teach Garcilaso
Here's an interesting piece from Psychology Today on a variety of politically incorrect subjects, including why the male ideal of feminine beauty is what it is. Adds an interesting perspective for those of us who teach renaissance sonnets.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Happy 4th
A few years ago I had a student who was interested to find out that I had lived in Spain. Upon finding out that I had returned home after two years, his only question was “Why?”
My only response was, “Because this is home.”
I like to think of myself as someone with an international perspective. I love traveling and living abroad. I adore Spain and would love to take my family there to live for a year or two.
But I love my own country more. This is home.
Happy Independence Day, everybody.
My only response was, “Because this is home.”
I like to think of myself as someone with an international perspective. I love traveling and living abroad. I adore Spain and would love to take my family there to live for a year or two.
But I love my own country more. This is home.
Happy Independence Day, everybody.
Monday, July 2, 2007
Quote of the Day
"Hey, I know! If I dry myself off, I won't be wet anymore!"
-- Gabriel, having a bright idea after getting out of the pool.
-- Gabriel, having a bright idea after getting out of the pool.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
PEZ Museum
I'm going to try to get into the habit of blogging every day. In the meantime, I thought I would resurrect some earlier pieces. Here's one I wrote exactly two years ago about our visit to the PEZ Museum in Burlingame.
Gabriel has become a man of taste. He knows what he likes and is not shy about sharing his opinions. So when he found out we were going to the Pez museum he squealed in delight. Gabe is a man who loves his Pez.
The world's only Pez museum is located in Burlingame, just about 10 minutes to the south of us.
We were expecting something on a somewhat grander scale, so when we passed a tiny storefront with PEZ in big letters on the facade we had to do a double take. But there it was, wedged between a cake bakery on one side, and a music store on the other.
Once inside we found a wonderland dedicated to all things Pez. Every conceivable Pez dispenser is for sale there, including some you wouldn't think would be for sale. A door at the back of the gift shop led to the museum.
We paid our $3 a pop for a personal tour of the Pez museum itself. Inside you find yourself in a small, square room lined with display cases, showing off Pez dispensers of every conceivable variety. The owner of the store/museum, a lumbering man who bears a passing resemblance to Randy Quaid, showed us around. The man oozed enthusiasm for Pez and proved to be a repository of Pez facts and minutiae -- things you would never imagine needing to know, but once you do know them you are glad to have found them out.
Pez itself is an acronym for "pfefferminz," German for peppermint. As the name implies, it started out as a breath mint, and originally came in a little tin can, not unlike Altoids. One such can is on display in the museum. And even though all these years I thought Pez was as American as Certs, it turns out to be as European as Altoids. Pez originated, and is still produced, in Austria.
Later came headless dispensers that look somewhat like cigarette lighters. It wasn't until the 1950s that Pez began topping their dispensers with cartoon character heads. Since that time, some 600 varieties of character heads have been produced for the Pez dispensers. All 600 of them are on display at the museum (as of last week, we were told, that number went up to 608).
Our guide started collecting Pez 15 years ago. The Pez museum started out as a small display in a corner of his computer store. He soon realized that people were more interested in the Pez than in computers. He told us he hasn't sold a computer in 10 years.
Recently he added to his collection a piece he had been looking for his entire 15 years as a collector. He guided us to a large case with rows of Pez dispensers and pointed to one on the first row: a faded pineapple-headed dispenser wearing a jaunty pair of sunglasses. One of the most rare Pez dispensers in the world.
Pride of place, however, is reserved for the most rare dispenser in the world. A sort of Pez version of Mr. Potatohead, the Super Spiel was withdrawn very shortly after being introduced because it was felt that all its tiny pieces constituted a choking hazard (Erika chortled at this, saying that Pez itself constitutes a choking hazard; the Pez man was not amused). Only 20 of these pieces are known to still exist.
Speaking of Mr. Potatohead, the museum also boasts an impressive collection of vintage toys, including erector sets, viewmasters and the original Mr. Potatohead. Originally, the Mr. Potatohead pieces were smaller and sharper than what are available now because they had to be stuck into a real potato. If you didn't have access to a potato you could use a cucumber or a pear. Later in the 60s the plastic potato was introduced (you could even get a plastic cucumber).
After a pleasant while spent browsing through Pez we finally bought Gabe a couple Madagascar Pez dispensers and took our leave.
Gabriel has become a man of taste. He knows what he likes and is not shy about sharing his opinions. So when he found out we were going to the Pez museum he squealed in delight. Gabe is a man who loves his Pez.
The world's only Pez museum is located in Burlingame, just about 10 minutes to the south of us.
We were expecting something on a somewhat grander scale, so when we passed a tiny storefront with PEZ in big letters on the facade we had to do a double take. But there it was, wedged between a cake bakery on one side, and a music store on the other.
Once inside we found a wonderland dedicated to all things Pez. Every conceivable Pez dispenser is for sale there, including some you wouldn't think would be for sale. A door at the back of the gift shop led to the museum.
We paid our $3 a pop for a personal tour of the Pez museum itself. Inside you find yourself in a small, square room lined with display cases, showing off Pez dispensers of every conceivable variety. The owner of the store/museum, a lumbering man who bears a passing resemblance to Randy Quaid, showed us around. The man oozed enthusiasm for Pez and proved to be a repository of Pez facts and minutiae -- things you would never imagine needing to know, but once you do know them you are glad to have found them out.
Pez itself is an acronym for "pfefferminz," German for peppermint. As the name implies, it started out as a breath mint, and originally came in a little tin can, not unlike Altoids. One such can is on display in the museum. And even though all these years I thought Pez was as American as Certs, it turns out to be as European as Altoids. Pez originated, and is still produced, in Austria.
Later came headless dispensers that look somewhat like cigarette lighters. It wasn't until the 1950s that Pez began topping their dispensers with cartoon character heads. Since that time, some 600 varieties of character heads have been produced for the Pez dispensers. All 600 of them are on display at the museum (as of last week, we were told, that number went up to 608).
Our guide started collecting Pez 15 years ago. The Pez museum started out as a small display in a corner of his computer store. He soon realized that people were more interested in the Pez than in computers. He told us he hasn't sold a computer in 10 years.
Recently he added to his collection a piece he had been looking for his entire 15 years as a collector. He guided us to a large case with rows of Pez dispensers and pointed to one on the first row: a faded pineapple-headed dispenser wearing a jaunty pair of sunglasses. One of the most rare Pez dispensers in the world.
Pride of place, however, is reserved for the most rare dispenser in the world. A sort of Pez version of Mr. Potatohead, the Super Spiel was withdrawn very shortly after being introduced because it was felt that all its tiny pieces constituted a choking hazard (Erika chortled at this, saying that Pez itself constitutes a choking hazard; the Pez man was not amused). Only 20 of these pieces are known to still exist.
Speaking of Mr. Potatohead, the museum also boasts an impressive collection of vintage toys, including erector sets, viewmasters and the original Mr. Potatohead. Originally, the Mr. Potatohead pieces were smaller and sharper than what are available now because they had to be stuck into a real potato. If you didn't have access to a potato you could use a cucumber or a pear. Later in the 60s the plastic potato was introduced (you could even get a plastic cucumber).
After a pleasant while spent browsing through Pez we finally bought Gabe a couple Madagascar Pez dispensers and took our leave.
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