Category — Who Knew...?

photo by Sven Jansen

Now that it has conquered nuclear technology, India has decided to tackle the chili warhead. Not sure this is what’s meant by a fruitful cultural exchange……

Here is a photo of our  kitten. His name is — not making this up — Apple Pie. Yes, the six-year-old named him. That said, we’re not SERIOUS. Nobody’s slapping a wad of butter pastry around him. But perhaps if we were Tuscan….

Italian TV suspends cat stew lover
From Associated Press
February 17, 2010 3:50 PM EST

ROME (AP) — Italian state TV has suspended a cooking show host who shocked the nation by saying cat stew is a Tuscan delicacy he has enjoyed many times.

RAI TV confirmed on Wednesday that it had suspended Beppe Bigazzi, the 77-year-old host of a popular morning program that offers food tips and recipes in a country renowned for its cuisine.

When a young woman on the show was startled by Bigazzi saying he has eaten cat stew many times, the host defended his culinary tastes, noting Italians eat rabbit, chicken and pigeons. Horse meat also is sold in Italian shops.

His critics included Health Ministry Undersecretary Francesca Martini. She says Italian law protects pets from mistreatment and that Bignazzi’s comments contradict growing public sensibility toward animals.

sprinkle it with sugar!!!!

The most intense snowstorm in Washington’s decidely un-snowy history could have derailed our entire holiday. We were supposed to be on a plane the day it struck. Instead, it gave us an opportunity to try something we’d only read about: Sugar on Snow.

My daughter and I had read a wonderful book called “Maple Syrup Season” (by Ann Purmell) which I’m pretty sure takes place in Canada (because it’s so placid?) Two pint-sized characters help out during the family’s sap harvest, help boil and grade the syrup, then, at the end, get treated to Sugar on Snow: hot maple syrup poured on packed down snow to make a gooey taffy. Which they eat with forks. Right there under a tree.

Too bucolic to pass up. Right after changing our hotel reservations I got online and downloaded directions for this treat, which according to the Massachusetts Maple Producers Association is also called “leather aprons” or “leather britches” because of its chewy consistency. It seemed simple. Heat the syrup to “22 degrees above boiling” — 234 degrees. Pour — without stirring — over the packed snow.

The first pot boiled over, bubbling all over the stove. And it STILL wasn’t hot enough. When we poured it onto our pan of snow (not intrepid enough for an outside venture — leave that to the Canadians and New Englanders), it made a big, maple-colored gulch. Considering that maple syrup costs about $300 an ounce in this part of the country (okay, I’m exaggerating) this did not make me happy. So we got out the candy thermometer (duh.) Once it reached 234 I ran to the porch for our pan of snow. By the time I got back the syrup was bubbling around 250+. We poured it over the snow, which made it crackle. We stuck in our forks, but instead of taffy, we hit good, solid brittle (the maple producers had noted that the hotter the syrup the stiffer the product.) They also said we should eat it with sour pickles, Saltines or plain donuts to cut the sweetness. None of that on hand, so we simply dug our fingers into the snow and popped the chunks into our mouths. Sweet, melting and a little smokey from boiling (and from the previous batch that was busy burning itself onto the stove) it tasted like a winter day. Here’s a progression (minus the boiled over pot):

the beginning....

the middle.....

the end!

Just one more reason to love New England. Anyone else have sugar on snow tales?