tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48506588024865648432012-02-11T00:15:31.373-05:00Because things don't always work out the way you thought they would - both in life & in the kitchen...Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.comBlogger2341100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-29725506368376270732012-02-09T06:30:00.000-05:002012-02-09T06:30:00.614-05:00

Keeping this week's FFwD short and sweet... I love recipes that aren't quite recipes - this week, the challenge was in creating the elements that went in to the final assembly.  I went for the bread and the "Nutella". Bread: Chocolate-Cherry- Almond Panettone Spread: "not-quite Nutella" spread made with Macadamia nuts and almonds Jam: sigh, I didn't make this, but I used a lovely organic

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-53604474812305844902012-02-08T12:14:00.001-05:002012-02-08T12:14:38.492-05:00

I think by now we've established that I {heart} making bread. It's an addiction that I indulge in at all hours. Yes, even at 6:34 on a Saturday morning.... The early bird gets the... or is it the early baker gets the early bird's eggs??? Hmmmm.... Now, I know that panettone has a reputation for being a bit difficult. And for needing...gasp...special equipment. But I am

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-45691453861244732922012-02-07T01:00:00.000-05:002012-02-07T01:00:05.305-05:00

Waves hand. Hi! After making it all the way through, Baking, the Tuesday's with Dorie group has finally re-opened and is now beginning to make its way through Baking with Julia. I am excited to be joining in on this go around and look forward to fine-tuning my baking skills over the next few years... Yes, I said years. The first recipe for Tuesdays with Dorie: Baking with Julia is White

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com52tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-32552396107993599462012-02-05T01:00:00.000-05:002012-02-05T01:00:02.320-05:00

February 5th is World Nutella Day. And while nothing beats the original, it's fun to make an approximation of it at home... ...just because you can. All you really need is a heat source (oven/ stove/ microwave), a food processor and something to put it in. Believe it or not, some stores don't actually carry Nutella. I know, it's hard to believe. So when you need a fix and can't

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-4660094382666874102012-02-02T18:30:00.000-05:002012-02-02T18:30:00.236-05:00

What to say. What to say. Keeping in mind that I am the person who considers five minutes early to be late, the fact that I left this until Tuesday night to make didn't bode well.  Crust. Easy. Peasy. Pie chains. Such a simple concept, but oh so effective. All filled and ready for the eggs and cream... Oops. The crust was compromised and filling went over the edge. That's

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-11235191284161073432012-01-29T11:50:00.004-05:002012-01-29T11:50:43.566-05:00

One night a couple of months ago, while The Karate Kid was at karate lessons and I was supposed to be working out at the gym... Or something like that... I was wandering through the grocery store and came across the miracle of all miracles. Figs. Fresh figs. Not dried figs. Whole. Fresh. Beautiful. Figs. I am not sure how they ended up in a grocery store in Upstate NY. And at that

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-4819218531495823392012-01-27T01:00:00.000-05:002012-01-27T01:00:01.249-05:00

At first I was confused... Audax Artifex was our January 2012 Daring Bakers’ host. Aud worked tirelessly to master light and fluffy scones (a/k/a biscuits) to help us create delicious and perfect batches in our own kitchens! I have to admit that when I saw scones in the title, I was a bit excited. Scones are totally my thing. And then I read on. And saw that it was biscuits. And I

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-14794603926536962802012-01-26T18:30:00.000-05:002012-01-26T18:30:00.082-05:00

I've been helping The Karate Kid study for her US History mid-term. I guess as the resident history major, the job is mine whether I want it or not. Now, I deeply love my girl and will go to great lengths to ensure her academic success; but let's be blunt - the process of reviewing four months of course work with a 16 year old is a painful process. Like getting your teeth pulled.

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-47064652635167601732012-01-19T18:30:00.000-05:002012-01-19T18:30:01.025-05:00

I have probably ranted about this before, but there is an ongoing battle "spirited debate" in my house regarding what things should be made from scratch and what fall into the "use a box" category.  There may be an instance or two of slight hyperbole in the text below. I tried to keep it to a minimum - and only for dramatic effect. Pause... I am by no means a purist - hey, let's face

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-51332737360652049292012-01-18T12:32:00.002-05:002012-01-18T12:32:39.772-05:00

As promised, here is the follow up challenge for the dried squid that showed up in the Christmas box from my clever brother and his wife... Since I also still have about 30-40 pounds of this tuna (seriously, we have a LOT of this left), I thought I would make this a two-fer challenge. I am not one to back down from a challenge. Even challenges that are a little...well...bizarre. Like

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-25594312246126095312012-01-14T01:00:00.000-05:002012-01-16T18:24:29.200-05:00

Growing up in rural Upstate NY, things were, well...a little homogeneous. When civic pride is encapsulated by which part of the 1700's your town or village was founded (even the 1600's in some cases), that's a pretty good sign that diversity is not high on the list of things to be found.  At least that was the way it was in the 1970's when I first nudged my way into the world. Maranda of

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-89419678490102879892012-01-12T18:30:00.000-05:002012-01-12T18:30:00.912-05:00

I know, I know, this is not the beauty shot that most people would open a post with.  But, there is something I find beautiful about this shot....    Hellooooo! Here I am. ...like how I trussed up this stinkin' bird all on my own and didn't freak out once. Like way back when I had to do this... So I am stressing WAY less about trussing up the naked birds (but it still totally

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-9484775351821754472012-01-05T18:30:00.000-05:002012-01-05T18:30:01.478-05:00

Helloooo, January.  You are well and truly here, aren't you? And you brought with you: the bitter cold, the numbing winds and the inevitable loss of air pressure in my tires - which means that I am left putting air in them while standing outside in the cold, with the numbing winds laughing at me every step of the way.  Ha. Ha. Ha. Not only am I subject to losing air in my tires this

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-76665253410383286982012-01-02T20:45:00.002-05:002012-01-02T20:45:52.998-05:00

A sense of humor is a beautiful thing.... Especially when a box shows up at your door step - a box that is filled with culinary oddities. Compliments of one brother & sister-in-law with a quirky sense of humor. Fortunately, the recipient of the box is equally as, if not more, quirky.  Like Vermont Curry. What the heck is Vermont Curry? (I read the back of the box and it apparently has

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-71228932467593305672011-12-29T18:30:00.000-05:002011-12-29T18:30:00.589-05:00

Helloooo????  Did anyone see where 2011 went? Because it appears to have disappeared as quickly as a dish full of cauliflower gratin fresh out of the oven...   I don't know what it was like in your world, but this was one whirlwind of a year in our house.  Dotted with joys & sorrows.  Highs & lows.    Loved ones were lost and new "loves" entered the world with a wail - serving

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-82823763203796353832011-12-27T01:00:00.000-05:002011-12-27T01:00:04.276-05:00

Bread & I are BFF's. I love bread and well... it loves to stick around me (on me, to me...); but that's a whole other post.  Usually, a crock of sourdough starter can be found lurking in the recesses of my fridge.  However, bad sourdough parenting & the need for refrigerator space in the week leading up to Thanksgiving resulted in the loss of George - my mongrel sourdough that had been hanging

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-74169511077499389662011-12-24T07:09:00.002-05:002011-12-24T07:09:15.637-05:00

Here it is the morning before Christmas and I feel like some wondrous form of Christmas-inspired dessert or appetizer or SOMETHING should be rolling off my fingers.  I do have two sets of yeasted rolls in various stages of completion.  The croquembouche that I started is waiting to be assembled.  A few other holiday specialties are also waiting to be finished off.  But they just aren't "

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-49422310314235909012011-12-22T18:30:00.000-05:002011-12-22T18:30:00.454-05:00

'Tis the post before Christmas... Oh, wait, that was last year! Back when I was a wee one, Christmas was something I just couldn't wait for. Not for traditional reasons, mind you (although, I was never one to turn away a present); but because that was the one time of year when the siblings of Cher would come home.  Relieving me from my solitary child existence for a few short days - or if I

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-58228682293109246992011-12-15T18:30:00.000-05:002011-12-15T18:30:01.750-05:00

...or what to do with that half eaten bag of potato chips. Ironically, the day I made this tortilla, I was feeling a little bit like the crumbled up, crushed chips. Sometimes, life leaves you that way, doesn't? But I think the key is: don't throw away those crumbled up pieces - figure out how to turn them into something better.  You just have to jump in there and make it so -

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-21555892537620232372011-12-14T01:00:00.000-05:002011-12-14T01:00:04.779-05:00

Our Daring Cooks’ December 2012 hostess is Sara from Belly Rumbles! Sara chose awesome Char Sui Bao as our challenge, where we made the buns, Char Sui, and filling from scratch – delicious! Howdy! This is my first time cooking along with The Daring Cooks.  I have to admit that I have been stalking keeping an eye on some of the challenges posted by some of my favorite bloggers and decided that

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-72808367196147877072011-12-12T22:55:00.000-05:002011-12-12T22:55:54.423-05:00

It's like this.  Sometimes, I just buy odd-to-me ingredients in store with no plan in mind.  I may know something about them from browsing the web or reading.  But beyond, that...not a clue. Now I am sure some people would say the "not a clue" extends beyond the ingredients.  And they are probably correct.  During one of those random shopping trips, I found myself in possession of six -

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-817943919011389152011-12-08T18:30:00.000-05:002011-12-08T18:30:00.198-05:00

As a mother, if I could have one superpower it would be...    ...the power to subliminally bend the other occupants of the household to "my will".  Now, I would not plan to use my power for evil or self-profit (like serving me breakfast in bed every morning or anything like that) - I would channel my skills on things that would serve to better the household & its inhabitants.  For

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-76561233458412420182011-12-06T18:24:00.001-05:002011-12-06T21:33:06.615-05:00

I don't know how it runs in your house; but in our family, a holiday just wouldn't be a holiday unless cranberries showed up on the table in one form or another.  Two types of cranberry sauce flit through the memories of my childhood.  The weird homemade stuff with the whole berries that one lady used to bring to our house when she came to dinner.  And the ubiquitous can of the jellied stuff

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-51681172349769858432011-12-01T18:30:00.000-05:002011-12-01T18:30:00.777-05:00

Making pancakes this week seemed almost too normal in the midst of a week that has been anything but. Fluffy Potato Pancakes w/ Pomegranate Syrup & Creme Fraiche This past Sunday morning, my partner received the phone call that no child is every truly ready to receive - that his father had unexpectedly passed away.  No indicators.  No warnings.  No good-byes.  Just gone.  We all

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-22064534797633642782011-11-23T16:48:00.000-05:002011-11-23T16:49:06.062-05:00

Growing up, in my house Brussels Sprouts were the thing that "Legends" were made of... I know that I have whined lamented about this before, but when you are the baby of the family AND your next closest sibling is 13 years older than you... you don't catch a lot of slack.  You ARE the baby and as such, nothing is sacred.  Because of this, you either have to choose to have a sense of humor

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-11088955650290651102011-11-20T11:12:00.000-05:002011-11-20T11:12:36.676-05:00

When I announced that I was interested in making croissants, it kind of went like this:  "Why? You can buy them in the store." Game on.  I am not sure what it is, but there is no phrase that has the power to kick my determination into overdrive quite like that one.  The nerve.  Questioning why I would make something at home vs. picking up a sad looking

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-57371421726231627082011-11-17T18:30:00.000-05:002011-11-17T18:30:03.347-05:00

This week, I succumbed to the advice of the great philosopher, Kenny Rogers... "You've got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em Know when to walk away, know when to run." I first studied at the school of Rogeronian philosophy as a young child - a very young child.  Back in the days of cassette tapes, my sister had copied a series of Kenny Rogers & Roger Whittaker songs onto a

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-34952410874183800032011-11-15T16:00:00.000-05:002011-11-15T16:00:00.782-05:00

Rumor has it, that today is National Bundt Day.  If I realized it, I would have baked a cake... However, I did have this beauty languishing in my "drafts" folder - waiting for the perfect occasion...  And according to Mary, The Food Librarian, today is that occasion.  See the fiery red Cayenne?  It's in there...  In celebration of "Big Bundts", here is a chocolaty, spicy

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-49656056305793492462011-11-15T00:00:00.000-05:002011-11-15T08:00:01.270-05:00

Every once in a while a gift horse comes along. One that just begs you to not look it in the mouth... Like coming home from work on a Friday night and having the house all to yourself. All. To. Your. Self.  No one saying "mommy, mom, mum".  No one asking where their uniform is.  No chasing down missing articles of whatever  it is that isn't where it is supposed to be. Just a

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-69523718872409537522011-11-12T07:00:00.000-05:002011-11-12T07:00:05.440-05:00

Once upon a time, in a rural Upstate NY community, there lived a little girl.  She didn't have a curl, in the middle of her forehead. But she lived in a white house.  In the middle of nowhere.  Seriously.  In the middle of nowhere.  On one side of the house was a road.  Lined with pine trees. On another side of the house was a field - destined for haying.  On the other two sides of

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-2733436205551864382011-11-10T18:30:00.000-05:002011-11-10T18:30:00.306-05:00

It has been a week.  My thoughts are running all over the place and I can't seem to pull them together in a cohesive string... So hold on, my friends. Or run away.  We'll get to the soup.  But not quite yet.  Here's a picture as proof.  First brain dump, this week's FFwD lines up with Veteran's Day.  This soup has pears in it.  My parents have pear trees in their backyard & I can remember

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-52265097006370585472011-11-09T21:35:00.002-05:002011-11-09T21:35:23.587-05:00

Sometimes, ideas are planted long before they need to come into fruition.  I find myself to be a collector of ingredients.  Whether wandering through the grocer or in a random shop on my journeys, I collect ingredients.  Items that don't have a purpose, but for whatever have reason have caught my eye. I bring these souvenirs home and place them in my pantry.  There they sit and wait

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-30483248115601796022011-11-03T18:30:00.000-04:002011-11-03T18:30:00.796-04:00

When you live in a house with three very opinionated people (four if you count this post author), there are times when you know you are bound to get hung up in the court of "public" opinion.  Sometimes, you have an idea what's going to get you in trouble.  Other times, it's totally a left field kind of thing.  Way out there.  I should have known that this was going to be "one of those".

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-43491033438392648272011-10-27T18:30:00.000-04:002011-10-27T18:30:00.163-04:00

To me, pumpkins mean falling leaves, cold evenings & blustery "Winnie the Pooh winds".  As I drove across the back roads of Southern Texas mentally formulating a post about a pumpkin stuffed with "everything good", I am found myself caught off-guard by the spotty patches of grass, the palm tree lined driveways with Halloween themed decorations gracing the edge of a gated drive leading to a

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-9437168934704199322011-10-25T21:08:00.002-04:002011-10-25T21:08:23.249-04:00

Good evening, y'all.  Something about being in Southern Texas is pushing me to talk about meat.  Especially after listening to stories all afternoon about one of my Texan colleague's adventures with a wild pig (well, actually three pigs if you want to be precise).  This "Yank" is just recently learning how much of a pest that roaming pigs have become.  (Who knew?  We don't have a lot of pigs

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-77440628075723734382011-10-20T19:23:00.005-04:002011-10-20T22:19:45.487-04:00

Don't let this happen to you: if "someone" decides they want to change out an outlet that runs along the same circuit as your major kitchen appliances while you are trying to make a Sunday dinner...  Don't be accommodating.  Just say "no".  Trust. Me. On. This.  Please. Yes, I know one corner is devoid of olives...  Was keeping the peace with the picky eater by leaving a "piece" "

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-58725239564398944312011-10-13T18:30:00.000-04:002011-10-13T19:19:40.382-04:00

Update!  Files recovered. Pictures now have something to do with food... Since my lap top's hard drive decided it was done cooperating this week (hey, kind of like its owner...), I don't have pictures...  If the lovely Geek Squad people can rescue the pictures off that naughty hard drive & locate them on to the new computer, I will add them in.  It's been one of those weeks.  So until that

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-21285830913702004332011-10-06T18:30:00.000-04:002011-10-06T18:30:00.164-04:00

Author's note: the contents of this post are based on my personal hang-ups and are in no way, shape or form intended to be reflective of the recipe.  Because the recipe was good.  The food was good - the path to get there... well, it was just a little horrifying for me, personally (I think I need a sous chef to do all the prep work or something).   Yes, I can see that I am being a big baby.  I

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-73901271747191016252011-10-05T12:43:00.001-04:002011-10-05T12:43:24.267-04:00

Cookies & I don't often cross paths in the kitchen.  I like cookies.  (If you looked at my butt right now, you would concur - I am working on that, by the way, just re-joined the YMCA & gym time starts tonight... Say "good bye" cookie butt.)  BUT I don't like making cookies.  More accurately, I don't mind making cookie dough - it's the whole shaping thing that gets to me. Too much

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-54386211864355368722011-09-29T18:30:00.000-04:002011-09-29T18:30:01.223-04:00

Some times you just get the sense that "it is like deja vu all over again"?  It was a Yogi Berra moment...  Which then led me down the trail to Yogi Bear... Which took my easily distracted mind here... Any hoo. Somehow this week, I felt like I had been through many of the same steps, same process. That it's the same. But different. I'm not saying that's

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-39853548913475953912011-09-24T06:00:00.000-04:002011-09-24T06:59:45.017-04:00

A few weeks ago, Easily Good Eats tagged to take part in a Seven Link Challenge.  Since I have been tied up with studying for my certification exam, this one fell a little bit behind; but here goes... The pictures attached to this post are just random pictures about my life.  Because I felt like it...  (If you want to see pictures of the food, go to the links - I promise, they are all there.) 

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-15604395336916497892011-09-22T18:30:00.000-04:002011-09-22T18:54:39.129-04:00

The ever-so-French Madeline inched it's way into my consciousness after watching the 2002 movie The Transporter.  Something about the way Shi Qi's character flicked those little cake-cookies out of the pan left me thinking "she should have let the pan cool down a little longer".  (And since The Dude is an avid fan of this movie and I have seen it so many times, I have had a lot of

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-13344056655336398572011-09-17T10:32:00.001-04:002011-09-17T10:32:54.652-04:00

"EVERYONE" knows that I don't feel great when I am seen carrying around a bottle of ginger ale.  It is hands down the number one thing I want when I am not feeling "quite the thing".  I don't drink it any other time.  Weird, huh?  However, when I saw this recipe for homemade ginger syrup, I was intrigued.  Because even though I don't "drink the ale" when I am feeling good, I love me some

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-64118091107674733432011-09-15T19:41:00.001-04:002011-09-16T11:20:47.873-04:00

At times, life feels like one step after another... A first step tentatively taken on wobbly feet.  A first day of school.  A first sleepover at a friend's house. A first date. A first kiss. Learning how to drive.  Graduating from high school. Going to college.  Graduating from college. The first job. The first car. The first apartment.  The

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-89371173876501304222011-09-11T00:30:00.000-04:002011-09-11T00:30:01.340-04:00

There are a few moments in life that stick out like tacks strewn on a carpet.  Sharp little points that you never saw coming until they get stuck in your foot.  Stinging - even after the offending items are removed.  ...the first disappointment.  ...the first time you utterly fail at something you have poured sweat and tears in to.  If you are lucky, you can pick up the pieces and move

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-1067322545980577152011-09-08T17:57:00.002-04:002011-09-08T17:57:55.087-04:00

I know I can't be the only one... Who takes a look at a recipe.  Reviews the ingredients.  Reads through the directions.  Fall in love with the concept.   Knowing that you are going to take what you love and execute it the way you want to.   Not that there is anything wrong with the prescribed method.  It just isn't "your way".  Just like "Old Blue Eyes"

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-20632651378061842202011-09-06T20:28:00.003-04:002011-09-06T20:28:50.900-04:00

These last few fleeting days of summer have put me in a clingy state of mind.  Not stalkerish clingy (just had to clear that up), but sentimental clingy.  While there is a piece of me that is head over heels in love with fall and all comes with it, there is a piece of me that looks back on summer and wants to cling. To the last few days before my "baby" girls officially start

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-30306640358293992162011-09-01T15:30:00.000-04:002011-09-01T15:30:00.680-04:00

Hi.  I don't know about you, but it's been one of those weeks.  This crazy lady named Irene decided to take a run up the East Coast and turn every one's world upside down.  Warning - this post probably doesn't talk a lot about corn soup - if you need to, you can just look at the pictures and pretend it is a post about corn soup :-)  Sorry...  Next week, I promise to return to "normally

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-81840679976590057342011-08-27T10:08:00.000-04:002011-09-24T06:57:13.544-04:00

Wow.  Life has been crazy.  This summer has been crazy.  I don't ever recall having such a busy summer.  Between vacation.  Work.  College visits.  Kid's plans.  My plans.  Everything in between.  So many amazing things tucked into a couple of short months.  I just looked at my blog and realized my only posts for the past month or so were FFwD related.  And my draft backlog was two solid

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-61427279514609775892011-08-24T18:30:00.002-04:002011-08-26T13:58:40.534-04:00

Update: I added the YouTube clip of Steve Martin & the hamburger clip...  Just because it makes me smile :-) Even though I am not the biggest beef eater in the world, I am a total sucker for a great burger.  That is, not one that is well done - but one that is done well... I do have one hang-up about burgers.  Not specifically with burgers themselves - because I love a good one... My hang-up is

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-15063640918618481232011-08-18T18:30:00.013-04:002011-08-18T18:30:01.556-04:00

I find that I am in need of redemption. Not redemption as in returning your soda bottles to the grocer to get your five cents back. But salvation - as in beyond hope... You see, it's like this. I let this silly thing get the best of me. Now the official story is that my kitchen was disgruntled with me because I was out of town for the weekend hanging out with this guy (and his brother).

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-48483909111845682582011-08-11T18:30:00.003-04:002011-08-17T12:26:18.101-04:00

Sometimes in life, you know that things were just not meant to be... Sometimes, things are just totally wrong... Like a dough recipe that calls for 3 TABLEspoons of yeast for 4 1/2 cups of flour.  In that case - it's not me, it's you... In other cases, despite everything being "right", the stars just aren't lining up.  For example, my freshman year of college... I had a boyfriend that we

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-2985939386997395362011-08-06T21:12:00.000-04:002011-08-06T21:12:36.148-04:00

First of all - time to clean the camera lens.  Blur is not becoming... Now that (in)formalities are out of the way... The hazy, hot humid days of summer have turned my palette to the lighter side.  There is something about the vast quantities of fresh fruit and vegetables available that call out.  And in their peak - they need little tweaking.  A light hand will do.  Just simply garnish. 

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-6203137135868574012011-08-04T18:30:00.001-04:002011-08-04T18:30:00.644-04:00

Tomatoes.  To-mat-oes.  Tomatoes.  What to do with tomatoes?  That have been roasted.  I am a bit of a tomato neutral gal.  Don't love them.  Don't hate them.  They have their use - kind of like celery.  But I just can't get excited over them.  (Although the brown ones that have been popping up in the stores have kind'a caught my eye...) Tomatoes are to food what the Pips are to Gladys Knight.

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-50544246002264357222011-07-30T07:00:00.001-04:002011-07-30T07:00:12.225-04:00

The rain finally penetrated the infamous "heat dome" in our neck of the woods long enough to get into the kitchen. So I ran into the kitchen as fast as my little legs could carry me to get something on the stove.  One successful... Sweet Potato & Kale Stew  And one that needs a little more love... Here is the apricot tempeh that went with the soup - needs more tweaking...  I

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-13189840002192657162011-07-28T18:30:00.001-04:002011-07-28T18:30:01.014-04:00

I have a confession to make.  I won't eat Jell-o with anything in it.  Straight up, please.... Those unnatural looking salads from my childhood with the canned fruit. Hidden under a blanket of whipped cream.  And on a really bad day, punctuated with shredded coconut.  Frankly, it scares me. I find ambrosia absolutely abhorrent - not even worth picking through to find the good stuff.  I can't

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-42217818436969933772011-07-24T10:38:00.000-04:002011-07-24T10:38:50.582-04:00

Now that I am in possession of the booty from The Dude's deep-sea fishing adventure, it is time to figure out how to best utilize this bounty.  Last week, a 62 pound box filled with dry ice-packed vacation tuna showed up on my doorstep.  The gauntlet was raised.  A challenge was born.   Remember this guy??? Sixty two pounds of fish.  To be prepared.  And eaten.  And the same-old/ same-old

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-79850151004583672542011-07-21T20:46:00.000-04:002011-07-21T20:46:56.807-04:00

The encroaching 16th birthday of The Karate Kid and the ever-so-swiftly nearness of the The Runner's Girl's senior year of high school (tear...) have resulted in way too many comparisons of "the way things were" and "the way things are". For example, there was a time in my life when... ...I would have found Cardamom rice pilaf to be the most exotic dish ever.  (Heck, back in those days a trip

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-37351206159293134832011-07-19T12:32:00.000-04:002011-07-19T12:32:46.921-04:00

Every once in a while, I will go back through my trough of half-started posts and figure out what to do with them - cull, finish or save them for future inspiration.  (Kind of like my half-finished kitchen - but that's another story...) Sitting right there in the middle of that listing of posts was this one.  For homemade yogurt.  And I wasn't sure what to do with it.  So, here goes nothing. 

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-87387435765771878212011-07-14T16:27:00.000-04:002011-07-14T16:27:55.862-04:00

...follow the directions. You see, there is this person Who Shall Not Be Named who can usually sometimes be less than pristine about following directions.  Or just randomly trying things my "their" way.  Like trying to make a melon-berry soup without melon...  And using a papaya.  And adding basil.  Should it be mentioned that when the basil was added to the lovely papaya it creates a funky

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-22949589279811888012011-07-08T18:30:00.005-04:002011-07-08T18:30:00.287-04:00

I have to admit I am a bit bummed to be back from vacation.  Flat out did not want to come home.  Seriously.  And I think everyone else felt the same way.  Basically we spent most of our time here...  And it was enough (although we did do some sighseeing in the evenings after we had our fill of sun).   The Dude (who shall now be known as Captain Ahab) did take a day away from us all (I

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-67087232881022216002011-07-07T18:30:00.008-04:002011-07-07T18:30:01.629-04:00

Over the course of my years at University, I put a lot of words onto paper.  Many, many trees (for which I feel very badly...) As a History major, I probably ended up putting a few more words onto paper than many in my circle.  And while my peers were peering down their collective noses at my choice of major, they also knew where to go when it was time to churn out the papers...  (In return, I

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-1181031406903507082011-06-30T18:30:00.012-04:002011-06-30T18:30:00.687-04:00

Howdy!  I would love to tell you all about this Beet & Onion salad, but it's kind of like this... ...at the moment, I am probably sitting on a beach somewhere several hundreds of miles away from home.  With a book in hand.  And my shades on.  Watching the ocean.  Or walking along the shore.  Or lighthouse hunting.  Or taking a nap.  Or eating.  Oh yeah, there must be food.  Maybe a lobster boil?

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-45521096067832831442011-06-28T09:00:00.001-04:002011-06-28T09:00:01.118-04:00

The perfect vacation... ...where The Runner Girl runs. ...where The Karate Kid holds a lighthouse in her hands. ...and a good time is had by all. We're not in Kansas  Upstate NY any more, are we! Greetings from The Outer Banks.  We might come home...someday.

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-14482134227627085962011-06-27T18:00:00.001-04:002011-06-27T18:00:02.580-04:00

Wow.  Can you believe that strawberry season has like come and almost gone already?  (Up here in the Northeast, it doesn't start until mid-June, and is usually on it's way out the door before the 4th of Joo-ly firewords light up the sky.) I have heard there are people out there who don't like strawberries?  Seriously.  Who are you?  And why?  (Unless you have an allergy and then I TOTALLY

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-48124050189127898552011-06-23T18:30:00.001-04:002011-06-23T18:30:00.480-04:00

This is SO totally off topic.  But whenever strawberries are around, I can only think of one thing... "What is that one thing?" you might ask (Well, at least you ask in my imagination - and since I have to live with my imagination and imaginary conversations, I get to make the rules).  To that question I would answer this: "Strawberry Shortcake.  As in the doll.  Not the dessert."  (Although, I

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-68807898051462780382011-06-17T22:53:00.000-04:002011-06-17T22:53:54.003-04:00

Oh, beautiful spring.  Giving way to summer.  The signs are every where...  The end of track season heralds the end of the school year.  And SAT's.  And Regents Exams.  And college hunting.  Sighs. And the flowers of spring turn into the produce of "almost summer" (at least in this somewhat weather-delayed section of the country...) And we get to make friends all over again with the fruits

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-51630474995144067572011-06-16T18:30:00.001-04:002011-06-16T18:30:00.203-04:00

Rhubarb.  Rhubarb. Rhubarb.  Rhubarb has been around in my life, like forever...  Seriously.  Since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.  The irritating (but cute) little bug-child that was always underfoot.  Back when being a know-it-all was still considered more "precocious" than annoying.  I always knew that at certain times of the year (long before I understood the whole "seasonal" thing...),

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-59811456177880757372011-06-12T14:47:00.000-04:002011-06-12T14:47:28.876-04:00

I confess.  I am a nibbler.  It't more out of self-defense than anything else.  For some reason, I was blessed with one of those systems that goes all wonky if I don't eat every couple of hours.  As in total shut down.  It makes me absolutely miserable to be around kind of grumpy.  And if I can't/ don't eat on a regular schedule, I kind of start to stress out.  Because I know what happens next

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-40677790226975363502011-06-09T19:00:00.002-04:002011-06-09T19:00:02.257-04:00

I am feeling a little guilty.  I am sitting in The South typing up a post about BBQ from a recipe in a French cookbook.  I guess it is a good "thang" that I am a "New Yorker" and no one would suspect that I am sitting here writing about ribs.  Because, I am as sure as the day is long that if I were caught, I would be unceremoniously be shipped back to where I came from.  Or placed under house

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-27645625453743423662011-06-04T17:35:00.000-04:002011-06-04T17:35:52.350-04:00

Two of my favorite "May-flowers" celebrated their birthdays at the end of May - The Dude and The Runner Girl.  Even though their birthdays are only three days apart, The House Rule is: each person gets their own celebration.  And their own cake.  That's just the way it is.  And it's only fair - because your birthday is the one time you should get to be special all by yourself.  Unless you're a

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-48465124587842213742011-06-02T21:41:00.000-04:002011-06-02T21:41:38.116-04:00

I hit another new milestone this week.  I poached an egg.    Yes.  My name is Cher.  I am thirty-something years old.  And I have never poached an egg.  Or eaten a poached egg.  But I saw one on TV once before.  Does that count?  And after my last experience with soft eggs on "normal food", I wasn't quite sure what to do.  But I keep telling myself that FFwD is about doing things differently

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-47284035235928478482011-05-26T12:37:00.000-04:002011-05-26T12:37:36.157-04:00

I've had rice on the brain lately.  In risotto.  In pilaf.  In pudding.  With varied rice.  With nuts.  With dates.  With vegetables.  With herbs.  But always with vegetable broth...  Seriously.  Like a record spinning on the turntable.  But never catching a groove.  And no one is intervening to stop the incessant rotation.  I am not sure if it is because of my recent obsession with this or

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-83963129955844844332011-05-24T12:23:00.001-04:002011-05-25T08:02:47.695-04:00

Spring is the time for all that is sweet.  And lovely. The newly risen grass turns to a lovely shade of green.  Little baby buds turn into fledgling leaves on the trees.  The flowers of June start preparing to make their entrance up through the warming soil.    Boys and girls go through an annual right of passage. Preparing in earnest for that one magical night each year where they get to

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-74491950029411330062011-05-21T07:03:00.000-04:002011-05-21T07:03:07.363-04:00

Nestled in the foothills of the Adirondacks, there is a Village.  Pure Americana - apple pie & 4th of July.  Founded 1783.  Complete with residents whose families have lived there for generations.  Hundred + year old houses grace the streets - a strong nod to times past.  The signs at the entrance tout the slogan "The Friendly Village".  They don't deliver mail in "The Village" - you have to

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-56186384632329943902011-05-19T22:01:00.000-04:002011-05-19T22:01:43.720-04:00

There are some things in life that I don't quite understand... ...like how The Karate Kid's rubber bands for her braces end up in the weirdest places.  Like behind furniture.  On the stairs.  Underneath the front seat of my car.  ...why there are always dog dookies in front of my house - and I don't even have a dog. ...how the empty sink that I left behind in the morning on my way to work

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-56735079165432960382011-05-17T20:50:00.001-04:002011-05-17T20:51:18.433-04:00

[Betsy of a Plate Full of Happiness tagged me for a game of Cinco de Mayo tag.  I kind of missed it but it seemed like so much fun (and I was so excited about my Cinco de Mayo recipe) that I figured better late than never!  So, here's my Holiday Treat, Betsy.]    Is there one particular item in your cooking repertoire that defines you? The one thing that you don't dare show up to an event unless

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-88373852524456796632011-05-13T13:06:00.000-04:002011-05-13T13:06:20.378-04:00

Do you ever have those times when you can barely find it in yourself to give something the ol' 5% effort? Yes, I said 5%...  And that's really bad, isn't it? There are just some days (or weeks) when you aren't on top of your game.  And you go through the motions.  And get it done to get it done.  Maybe you are just having a bad day.  Or.  Maybe you are just being a big old baby and need to

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-25447167895600473592011-05-06T07:17:00.000-04:002011-05-06T07:17:20.641-04:00

Have we talked about my love-hate relationship with cakes made of cheese yet?  No?  I am sure have whined about my ongoing issues described my epic battles with cakes of cheese at least once or twice before...  Yeah - we don't always do so well together. Maybe it's just the whole cream cheese thing.  Maybe it's Philadelphia's way of chiding me for having left and never come back... Hence, I

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-11031729754206405722011-05-04T08:19:00.000-04:002011-05-04T08:19:15.936-04:00

Second chances are very important in life.  Whether it's someone giving us a second chance... Us giving someone a second chance... Or just giving "something" a second chance...  Second chances are not always simple or easy or fun.  It takes work - usually of the mental kind that pulls you one or two steps past your comfort zone.  And may involve changing your opinion about something (or

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-79417041534020921132011-04-28T20:21:00.001-04:002011-04-29T12:30:47.301-04:00

Steak crusted in peppercorns.  It was such a strange concept to me when I was first introduced to it.  The taste buds belonging to my younger self did not appreciate the depth of flavor borne by the crushed peppercorns.  But that was probably because my younger self probably had no idea that pepper could come in any other form than black ground pepper in a tin.  But, I have always loved me

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-74533844122260823622011-04-26T21:00:00.000-04:002011-04-26T21:00:45.816-04:00

The walls surrounding my four-year old self were pretty limited. Home.  That little white house in the country - bordered by grass-munching cows on two sides; a hay field on the third and a road on the other side.  Country living, for sure.  Church.  The massive building with its many hallways and seemingly endless number of rooms.  The throngs of people.  "The Farm".  The lodestone of my

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-61146715511486073632011-04-21T16:25:00.000-04:002011-04-21T16:25:06.601-04:00

This week's FFwD selection was the perfect "edible" complement to close out a long, cold Saturday at the track... While watching The Runner Girl and team mates pass their baton during relays... I couldn't help but think how nice it would be back at home inside of my warm, heated kitchen... Pulling a fresh, hot batch of mustard batons from the oven...  I am sure The Runner Girl would have

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-30718245535266260452011-04-14T20:07:00.000-04:002011-04-14T20:07:49.373-04:00

Oh, Dorie.  What a glorious gift you have bestowed upon us all - the ability to make eclairs.  Now, I am sure my backside will not be as grateful as the rest of me, but...oh, beautiful, glorious eclairs.  Eggs.  Butter.  Milk.  Treat extraordinaire... Pate a choux....  I love you! My first inklings of eclairs were as a young'un.  Knee high to a grasshopper. Every once in a while, my dad

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-49271212903819141212011-04-07T20:07:00.001-04:002011-04-07T21:45:39.396-04:00

Broccoli and I go waaaayyy back.  It's mostly good...  At times I wish I could distance myself from it, but over the years I have learned to accept and tolerate the bonds that tie us.... I guess its a really good thing that I like eating broccoli. It kind of goes like this.  I am "the baby" of family - in a big way.  Not only am I significantly younger than my siblings - I also was the youngest

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-59621948795845514422011-04-05T21:56:00.000-04:002011-04-05T21:56:56.755-04:00

I thought for sure the security cameras were going to catch me & a full-on SWAT team was going to chase me down when I checked out at the local Co-op the other day.  Because, who gets away with buying three pounds of Meyer lemons in Upstate NY in the middle of March??  Seriously.  Who does that? Uh, I guess I do.  But no one stopped me, so I was only a criminal in my own mind...  And I am such

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-84374102691813018092011-03-31T18:34:00.000-04:002011-03-31T18:34:07.991-04:00

Hi there.  A little birdie told someone that it's spring.  The calendar also says that it is spring.  But I have seen hide 'nor hair of that birdie (or should I say feather?)...  Just those annoying crows that don't migrate South like all of the other self-respecting feathered creatures.  I think they stick around just to mock me.  ("Rawwwrrr, we're still he-ere"  "Rawwrrr, all the pretty

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-1958260359090482282011-03-29T12:16:00.001-04:002011-03-29T12:22:50.056-04:00

I think I am kind of freaking my family out.  Disturbing the natural order of things.  Things are showing up in places they aren't supposed to.   But I'm okay, you're okay...  Can't we just be friends? I can't seem to help myself.  You see, I have been totally crushing on lentils lately.  I am not sure how long this little infatuation will last.  Perhaps not as long as my love for parsnips (

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-45138710570206784102011-03-25T23:20:00.000-04:002011-03-25T23:20:09.423-04:00

I have a serious problem.  For real.  I think I need help.  Apparently, I collect flours & grains like Carrie Bradshaw collects Manolo's.  Seriously.  At last count there were about 35 or so varieties lurking in various crevices of my kitchen - from the cupboard to the pantry to the freezer.  Every where I turn they are there.  It can't be my fault.  I am sure they jump into my cart while I

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-11679864947801224752011-03-24T19:50:00.000-04:002011-03-24T19:50:26.367-04:00

It's funny, in spite of my many food quirks, seafood has always been one of my favorites.  As long as I don't think about how they exist or anything, I am okay...   As a kid, sometimes a birthday treat would involve a meal out at a restaurant.  If I was really lucky, we would take the hour drive to The City (because EVERYTHING was an hour away - and on a "Friday night" nonetheless) and have

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-56578752992854433482011-03-22T12:34:00.000-04:002011-03-22T12:34:50.250-04:00

A few Saturday's ago, the most bizarre thing happened to me.  Like bizarre to epic proportions... Now, I am sure to most this is a common place event.  And not monumental.  At all.  But to me.  It was a "Wow, what do I do now moment?" Do I have you stumped yet????  I do?  Okay.  Here goes... ...I had the house to myself for like a four whole hours.  Four blissful hours of solitude.  There was

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-81728629023333079482011-03-20T18:36:00.079-04:002011-03-20T20:00:29.437-04:00

Hi.  My name is Cher and I am a bread-aholic.  Seriously.  There are not many things that tickle my goat like a freshly baked loaf of bread.  I could go on and on and on about the process.  The feel.  The smell.  The taste...  Yeah.  It's like that.  My love of bread has taken me through what feels like a myriad of recipes - and I still feel like a newbie at bread making.  Some are winners. 

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-60212599117002392812011-03-17T19:48:00.000-04:002011-03-17T19:48:18.202-04:00

Several members of the Cookie Monster family live in my house.  Seriously.  Picture an episode of Sesame Street.  Picture Cookie Monster noshing on a batch of cookies.  Plop that scene down into my kitchen.  It's like that.  Now, The Runner Girl is a Cookie Monster to power of 10. (So much so that is one of her nick names.)  The Karate Kid would be Cookie Monster, Jr.  She is a little more

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-87137109772710021592011-03-15T20:13:00.000-04:002011-03-15T20:13:08.482-04:00

I've had turtle beans on the brain lately.  I really don't know why.  But they've been there.  Stuck.  Like tires in the mud - or a foot of snow.  Not that I would know anything about stuck tires.  No siree.  Or mud.  Or snow... I had purchased a bag of these sweet little turtle beans from a local natural foods store & promptly put them in my cupboard.  And was aggravated the whole time because I

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-87737433694517696422011-03-10T20:20:00.000-05:002011-03-10T20:20:10.262-05:00

I am going to lay something right down flat in the center of the table.  I was a little dubious about this one...   I didn't doubt the recipe.  I doubted me.  Memories of sitting at the dinner table as a little girl arguing with my parents about not liking something that I never tried before...  Being told to take a "bite" and I might find that I really liked it.    Like my younger

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-68200233366907991092011-03-08T12:58:00.000-05:002011-03-08T12:58:57.521-05:00

Looks like a perfectly lovely banana cake, eh? And in the end... perhaps it was... It started out innocently enough.  Sour cream, vanilla, eggs, flour, bananas, etc.  Grease & flour pan.  Fill to 2/3 -3/4 full.  No worries, right?   Uh.  Wrong.  Bottom-of-the-oven-burned-on-mess-wrong.  But never fear.  Years of kitchen disasters & parenting have "learned me" one thing...  Most situations

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-80979653668229381582011-03-03T13:00:00.000-05:002011-03-03T13:00:54.760-05:00

Fast bread.  Slow bread.  Every where you go, bread... And cheese, please! Bread is one of those things, I can just never get enough of.   (Or cheese).  I am usually a yeast bread kind of girl - I love the process, the feel, the smell.  I find it very therapeutic.  But I can also get behind quick breads.  And the instant gratification they bring.  Hey, anytime a recipe helps me clean out those

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-41112436217516635752011-02-26T07:04:00.000-05:002011-02-26T07:04:51.287-05:00

Although, they didn't realize it at the time, my parents got me one of the items on my wish list for Christmas - a new bundt pan.  My old one was a cheapie that I had picked up at Wally-world or someplace like that in a past life.  And it was sad.  And it just didn't make me happy.  Plus, a big girl needs a big girl pan, right??? Which got me to thinking about the evolution of my kitchen wares..

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-13938369444097628442011-02-24T19:31:00.000-05:002011-02-24T19:31:43.851-05:00

There are times when I feel like I am seeing the world for the first time.  Or that I am just missing everything that is sitting under my nose.  Can't see the forest through the trees and all that...  Like these for example...  Short ribs.  Bone in.  Nine pounds...  Not a simple find - or at least I couldn't find them simply.  But my quest finally took me to what should have been the most

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4850658802486564843.post-51383434173630612552011-02-23T12:58:00.000-05:002011-02-23T12:58:16.306-05:00

Ok.  I am still not a chocolate girl, but there are three chocolate items that have the power to stop me in my tracks if done well... 1)  Chocolates with fruit creme centers (raspberry, orange or lemon only - oh, and they had better be the good chocolates - not the ones on the endcap at the grocer)2)  Pretzels dipped in dark chocolate (it should be the mini's - and a partial dip is preferred to

Cher Rockwellhttps://profiles.google.com/115601387271349444153noreply@blogger.com4