Imported from 1970

No, not me. I was a couple months early for that.

I find that when I'm searching for new recipes, checking in other hemispheres sometimes strikes my domestic fancy. So I found this West African Cookbook, published in 1971. And true to the decor of the decade, the only colors available for the book jacket are brown and orange.

I tried to go to Amazon.com to get an image but apparently there isn't one. See? (it's pretty dark, so maybe not)

They have one copy - and its used and you can have it for 60.16 before shipping charges.

Funny enough, what I needed to make tonight from this book was also brown and orange. I made Yam Fritters.

So easy to make and they are SO tasty. But if I fried up a diaper it would taste good. Fried anything usually is pretty decent. And a recipe usually loses me if it poses too many appliance accomplices (a food processor is a kiss of death for my interest), teaspoons of every herb on the shelf, or broth of any kind.

Tomorrow night I will make my attempt at getting Humanling to eat these.

Now they're looking a little chicken nugget-y but I assure you that not one feather was plucked for this display. In case you're wondering, this is one large yam, cooked and mashed. Then simply mixed with one egg and flour - just enough to make it dollop correctly.

Oh and one more color was added to the queue. Black. While I was 'multi-tasking' in the other room. So I guess I get the unphotogenic, crispy ones.

Kermit's Got Nothing on These Greens

Ever since August, I've been stoked on greens.

Growing up, there were some greens - stuff that I hated. Peppers (a hell shell stuffed with rice), green beans (usually accompanied by a can opener) and iceberg lettuce.

My mom isn't horrible. Much. Except that she kept me from my love affair with beets. And denies it.

I took out this book from the library (borrowing saves money and reduces waste. And if you like it that much after reading it, then buy it used from Amazon.) It's called Greens, Glorious Greens and I'll be damned if I've made one recipe from this book. I even shamelessy renewed it for another three weeks.

However! This book has been a complete primer for a Greens Ignoramus like myself. It gives a short chapter on various greens (Chard, Bok Choy, Mustard Greens, Cabbage, Dandelion Greens, etc) mentioning what to look for, how to store it, what parts you eat and then gives recipes on what the heck you do with it.

I'm in love. I will be buying this one eventually - used of course, someone else's grease splatterings and spighetti sauce sprinkling the pages.

This summer I have successfully incorporated chard and kale into our weekly meals. Two days ago I went brave. I bought the one green in the book that was not a success for the authors. They openly admitted that there isn't much to do with this one.

Given my past relationships with men and how they could benefit from my love and attempt at makeovers, I had to try it.

Mustard Greens have entered our lives. And it's not so bad. That's probably because they tried to warn me. It was rather anti-climatic (like all the hype surrounding There's Something About Mary - all for the Load Glazed Hair shot) in that it wasn't nearly as intense as the book said.

Of course if you sautee a pair of socks with shallots and garlic, they probably won't taste that bad either.

Before we were eating the greens on a daily basis, I had symptoms of tingling a lot. Particularly in my legs and one big toe and sometimes my arms. After eating them nearly daily, the tingles dumped me. I don't know what I was missing, but clearly, the greens helped.

I love flipping through the various chapters and choosing the next vegetable that will be adored, washed, chopped and then sauteed.

Sorry folks. That's about as adventurous as I get. Or will admit to on this blog at the moment.

Tonight, I am making rice balls. (I'll pause for those of you who need to smirk).

If you chop up the vegetables tiny enough, mix them with the rice, coat with flour (gluten free in our case) and fry up! A fabulous way to sneak in the veggies.

Speaking of. I'm burning the balls. Time to go gently maneuver them.

Beets

Beets beets good for your heart

the more you eat

the more you can be sure that my mother did not make them for you. Ever.

Know how I know? Because last weekend (if you sense a small story coming, change your legal name to Sylvia Browne) Humanling and I had gone to the farmer's market. We were virginal shoppers. That's right folk - WERE.

When we go this weekend, we'll be strutting like peacocks. We don't need help thanks, we know our way around.

Something about checking out the local dirt just makes you feel like trying new things. I should speak for myself only on this because Humanling only feels like trying new things that involve high fructose syrup, ice cream or markers. However, she was pretty into being there. That is, until I spotted a bundle of green leaves that trailed down to these dirt clumps that were labelled, Beets.

I had already gotten us enough stuff for the week, careful not to overindulge and have to waste the end result of the amazing process of planting, caring, growing, plucking and hauling. It's bad enough if HL or I ever waste an egg, I feel terribly guilty about the hen that went through the whole process, including the people who made sure the unbroken egg got from her feathered tush to truck, to store, to my fridge. Long story even longer, I saw the beets.

I like beets as far as I know. They're good out of a can. But that was the only way you'd get me to recognize them - sliced in juice the color of my hair last August. Being a 16 year vegetarian, I am quite the disappointment to have never made them myself. I pulled up a bundle and surveyed the painfully long line. Humanling did not survey how loud she shouted out "DON'T GET THE BEETS!!!! THE LINE IS TOO LONG!"

This was good though - she is a child and not far removed from the Law of Attraction. She knew what she wanted - to get the hell out of there NOW with or without whatever I was buying - and attracted it. A new line immediately was formed for people who had things that were flat fee, no weighing. That would be the beets.

Sometimes I suck at follow through. Not this time. I would be disgracing nature herself if I let them rot in the fridge. Googling a basic instructional paragraph, I found out how easy they are to make.

Way easier than a Close Encounters mashed potato mountain. Way easier than those horrible lumps of matter that my mom cooks on Thanksgiving - the evil Turnip.

I had one beet left and I'm working - and apparently blogging - from home today. I cooked it up and just nearly cried tears of gratitude for the beet.

I decided to call my mom and demand to know the truth. Did she ever make us beets. Oh I remember the clams that I bit into and it tasted like a mini buttered rubber tooth pillow. I remember the headache that I got from the one time that I had veal. And I remember dancing around the table for hours, eventually in the dim light because I couldn't get the liver down.

I called her at work. I haven't spoken to her in a few days. As soon as she answered, I verbally descended on her.

"Did you ever make us beets?"

"[noise in the background] What?"

"Did you ever make us beets when we were little? You know.... BEETS?"

"What? I can't hear what you're saying." Yeah. I BET you can't. Go ahead and try and think up a good excuse while buying time with the whole 'can't hear you' game.

"{sighing and laughing} BEEEEETS!"

"Is this important? Let me call you back!" I knew it.

My mom runs a carousel. That's her job. Pffffff. Cushy isn't it? Yeah well, should someone in her state of vegetatation abomination HAVE such a sweet job....smiling at parents, cooing to babies, bringing joy to the world when SHE FED US ALL SORTS OF PUTRID FLESH BUT NO BEETS?

That's right, she called me back to find out what I was trying to say. Now I have the truth dear reader. She did not make the beets. She's never made the beets.

I believe at the tender age of Sixty Something, I am going to, to quote Tom Cruise in Interview With a Vampire, give her the choice, I never had. I will buy her some.

And then I will inform her that I am no longer going to marry the Gas X commercial or Borders. I have ordered a new gown in purple.

**Check out how good they are for you Here - and by the way, they also come in White. It's like Christmas!!!!