Hotadultdirect usearch searchh Hotadultdirect 2searchA Hardcore +searchesearchssearch+4 Direct chsearchr Hot c Direct e Hardcore s Hot + Hardcore s Hardcore nsearch+o Hot l%2
P
w Adult redshywebcamgirl%2026%20g%20forumby+searchosearchar Hot %
2+searcha Hotadultdirect dw Hardcore nsearchbsearcha Hot s Direct h Hot rdwae+ Direct e Hardcore t Hot rs Direct + Hotadultdirect asearchh Hardcore ssearcha Hardcore dsearchu Hot dangerja%20marineeriminer Adult c Direct r Hot s Adult 2 Hot +em Hot t
o Hotadultdirect al+searchissearchu Hardcore ba Direct csearchn Hardcore I Hotadultdirect dtexas+holdem+poker+chips+generator+version+6.2+free+download+%D8%AA%D8%AD%D9%85%D9%8A%D9%84+%D8%A8%D8%B1%D9%86%D8%A7%D9%85%D8%ACs Hot o Hot e Hotadultdirect e Hot Adult h
Adult n Hardcore Adult rsearche Hotadultdirect R Adult c
p, Direct h Direct o Hot esearchS Adult e Adult Adult r Hot f Hardcore rsearch Hardcore o Hotadultdirect a Hot y Hot o Hot h
r l Hot eb
r Direct y Hot msearchf
i
n Hot he Hardcore w Hotadultdirect r Direct d. Click here to see the original recipe, and I’ll give you my few special tweaks to it below. I’m sure it’s perfect as is, but according to Shel it’s better than perfect in my variation. For one thing, I make mini muffins, so he can eat a whole plateful. For another, I use a can of those tiny blueberries instead of fresh or frozen large berries, And lastly, I top them with raw sugar, for an extra crunch. If you have a supermarket muffin addict in your household, give these a try. And if you’ve been searching forever for the perfect recipe, I think you’ve found it. Now, if you happen to have the perfect recipe for yellow cake with chocolate frosting…….
Better Than The Best Blueberry Muffins
1/2 cup butter, room temperature
1 1/4 cups sugar
1/2 tsp salt
2 eggs
2 cups flour, divided use
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 14 oz can blueberries, packed in water
3-4 T raw or turbinado sugar
Preheat oven to 375°. Line mini-muffin tins with paper cups (I get about 34 muffins from this recipe) and spray muffin cups lightly with something like Spectrum canola spray. Place the blueberries in a strainer to drain thoroughly.
In a stand mixer, if possible, cream together the butter, salt and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs, one at a time. In a small bowl, stir together 1 3/4 cups of flour and the baking powder. With the mixer on low speed, add the flour alternately with the buttermilk, mixing just until smooth. Crush 1/4 of the drained blueberries and stir them lightly into the batter by hand. In a small bowl, stir the remaining 1/4 cup of flour together with the rest of the drained blueberries, then fold this mixture gently into the batter.
Drop the batter by the heaping teaspoonful into the prepared muffin cups. Sprinkle the tops of the muffins generously with the raw sugar. Bake muffins for about 23 minutes until golden brown.
The Champagne is overflowing the fridge. The wild boar is simmering peacefully in the oven. The puree of cauliflower with creamed leeks is ready. The Brussels sprouts with toasted pecans are next on the list. The guests are bringing everything else, some are even bringing the dishes to serve their course on, in deference to the fact that we’re leaving France in just four days and haven’t even begun to pack. Every chair in the house, plus several from the garden, will be in use. Someone is planning games to be played while waiting for the stroke of midnight, someone else is bringing French noisemakers, without which one cannot celebrate the reveillon de Saint Sylvestre in a properly French way. I’ve heard that there may even be dancing. There are pink clouds in the evening sky and the omens are good.
We’ll be in 2012 before many of you, but I’m not going to give you any advance hints. You’ll have to discover for yourself what the new year has to offer. Every year I’m torn between thinking “oh, it’s just another day” and “wow, it might be a whole new life!” As usual, the truth is probably somewhere in between. I’ll still be me, you’ll still be you. It’s what we make of it that we’ll remember a year from now. And like every year, we’ll say that we can’t believe how the year has flown by, only this time it will be more true than at any time in the past, since without a doubt time goes faster and faster with every passing year, even if Einstein didn’t see it that way.
My plan is to step boldly through that door into tomorrow, taking my own sweet time, and I hope yours is too. See you on the other side.
I’ve always thought that cardoons were an absolute waste of chlorophyll, not to mention growing space and market space. They look prehistoric, are a hassle to prepare, and up until now, never tasted like much of anything. Sure, you can read about their vaunted delicate artichoke heart-like flavor, but I’ve always thought that was a polite way to say bland, bland, bland. Unfazed, our friend Alice gave me a clump of cardoons the other day, and recited me her recipe for Cardes à la Provençale. It’s a typical Provençal dish at this time of year, and she spoke of anchovies, and garlic, and I found that tempting, but memories of previous bad experiences with the fibrous stalks made me, ulp, toss the stuff. Besides, I reasoned, you could eat cardboard with anchovy and garlic sauce and it would probably taste, if not exactly good, at least not too different than the cardoons themselves would.
Undaunted, Alice invited us over and prepared the dish herself, after extracting from me my sheepish admission that no, I hadn’t actually used the cardoons she gave me.
Ok, I admit it. I was wrong, I was absolutely wrong. I remembered having to cook the dratted things for an hour and a half before they got tender. Alice instructed me to use only the tender, white hearts of the cardoon, not any of the green and mega-tough outer stalks. You do have to pull off the long strings, as you might with some over-age celery stalk, but that’s sort of fun, in a perverse way. And while I didn’t discover any sort of delicate artichoke flavor, because the anchovies and garlic pack a real wallop, and while the dish will never win any beauty contests, it is, in fact, pretty darn good, especially in a relatively small quantity as a starter. So get yourself a clump of cardoon, try this recipe, and imagine that you’re spending Christmas in Provence.
Alice’s Cardes à la Provençale
serves 3-4
1 large clump heart of cardoon
4 T white vinegar
8 anchovy fillets
5 cloves garlic
3 T olive oil
about 1 cup heavy cream, up to 1 1/2 cups
First, steel yourself. You need to separate and wash the stalks, because cardoon can harbor a lot of inner dirt. Next, de-string the stalks, enjoying yourself as much as you can in the process. Fill a large pot with water and add the vinegar. Cut across the stalks as if you were thickly slicing celery, halving lengthwise any really large stalks.
As you cut the cardoons, drop the pieces immediately into the vinegary water, to keep them from turning brown. When all the cardoon pieces are in the pot, bring it to a boil, then lower the heat a bit and boil gently for 20-30 minutes. You want the cardoons to be fork-tender, but still slightly firm, as they’re nicer to eat with a little bit of crunch. Drain the cardoons into a colander.
Heat the olive oil in a skillet and add the anchovies, mashing them with a fork until they dissolve. Add the garlic and sauté until it turns lightly golden. Put the cardoons into the skillet and stir to combine. Now add the cream, starting with one cup. What you’re going to do is cook the whole mixture until the cream reduces and a thick creamy sauce covers the cardoons. In my skillet, which is large, I ended up using a cup and a half. Don’t be shy with the cream, it’s the ingredient that brings the whole thing together. When the cardoons are luxuriously coated, add lots of freshly ground black pepper. You probably won’t need to add any salt because the anchovies are pretty salty, but you may add more if you wish.
Serve all alone on a small plate as a first course with a good bread to mop up the last bits of sauce. And fear cardoons no more, this dish conquers all. While eating it, the word cardboard will never once cross your mind.