The Pleasure of Breath

 

What is more pleasing than taking a breath,

Even the last one as we slid to our rest

 

The in and the out and the softness we feel

I think that each breath gives a soothing appeal

  

We honor the sky and wind through the trees

The beauty of clouds is a breath, yes indeed

 

I’m sure it’s the earth just taking a sigh

Just think of that when the wind whistles by

 

And when the whiff of pot roast spells hunger

Where would we be without breath I ponder? 

 

So, take a deep breath you ladies and gents

And consider just all that your breath represents.

The Torment of the Soul

 

                                  Francisco Goya. 1746-1828

 

Creatures of the depth of time shred my slumber with their claws

Spewing boiling tar as I lay stricken by grind of their fearsome jaws.

 

Crackling tongues spew their venom, oh the putrid smell!

Oh, the wicked things that curl like all the snakes of hell!

 

They sing of all the multitudes who felt my cruel bent,

Coming back to torment me with devils they have sent.

 

Sweat turning into boiling oil and trickles down my back

Flashing scenes that shame me by all the good I lacked.

 

Riders on their flaming steeds, with hoof of red hot steel

Oh yes, the very worst of me I know will never heal

 

Far too late to sooth the past, my wickedness abounds

Devoid of hope, the rudder lost, my ship has run aground.

Dreams Before Me

 

 

The ocean darkens to sapphire blue

 

And sun fades into clouds of gold

 

I linger in the wet, clinging sand, 

 

Listening to the whispering waves

 

And feel a warmth in my soul 

 

Unleashing the spirit of precious years

 

To spring before me, sparks of youth

 

Of love and friends that linger yet, 

 

Like the waves that never end.

 

I close my eyes

 

To see lost suns that warm my dreams. 

 

 

Condensed Milk and Almonds Cookies by The Careless Cook

 

 

 

The Careless Cook’s kitchen is a wonderland of “What the hell is going on?” Most of the time He doesn’t know until he scampers in, looks at his watch and reaches for a bottle of….no wait….it’s morning. A cup of coffee is what he reaches for. Time matters. A ladies’ conclave awaits. Older ladies. Hungry and not prone to the indulgence of biding their time, neither is The Careless Cook in the ‘biding’ habit. 

 

Too long and his mind may stray to bolder endeavors. 

 

So, let’s get started, on behalf of Mr. Careless and his waiting ladies!

 

Ingredients, ummmm….think He’s got it!

 

Heat the oven to 350 deg.

 

2 sticks butter, melted

½ cup condensed milk

2 cups sugar

½ teaspoon baking powder

2 cup of flour and a couple of tablespoons more

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

½ cup slivered almonds, or more

 

Should make about 30 cookies, more or less.

 

Putin’t It teeegather!

 

Large bowl.

 

Add the sugar and melted butter.  Mix well. (Suggestion: hand held mixer)

Add the condensed milk….oh, what the hell…just toss everything else in!

Mix it into dough. Make sure the almonds are well dispersed.

 

Use a tablespoon to scoop up portions of dough and roll into balls. 

 

Put all the balls on a baking sheet (Suggestion: put a sheet of parchment on the baking sheet.)

 

Press the balls down lightly and press a few almonds on each.  

 

Bake for 12-14 minutes, but check it along the way. Cookies will be barely browned along the edges.

 

Time for another coffee, or maybe make that an Irish.  Just a suggestion.

 

Oh Temptations

 

         

 

Temptations rest in lovely dreams

Of red and yellow flowers,

 

Spreading like the softest winds

Across the greenest fields

 

In nightfall comes such silvered

Moons, bearing goblets of wine

 

Anointed with all the pleasures, 

Begging to be savored

 

Golden chimes, ringing hearts, and

Whispers of love’s bounties.

 

Do you hear the whispers tuning in the wind,

Fanning clarion’s calls to love and life?

STRANGE BUT TRUE CHEESE AND SAUSAGE BISCUITS BY THE CARELESS COOK

 

Morning came and The Careless Cook yawned and stumbled his way into the kitchen, with nary a thought of baking. That changed. He had made promises to a group of hungry ladies, and discovered he had less than two hours to bake and deliver. 

 

At once he was very sorry he had floated promises to anyone, especially after a night of…..well, anyway….

 

Rule number ONE.  Do not make promises. Especially not morning promises. Especially not to hungry ladies.

 

But even with a shortage of time, The Careless Cook never waivers. After all, the kitchen is a plaything and he was suddenly in the mood to play with one of his favorite toys: biscuits. Simple, easy, and after that, it’s anywhere you care to go.

 

Time is wasting! Let’s get to the basics of biscuits.

 

Oven to 450 deg

 

2 cups flour (3 cups if you’re using gluten free flour)

1 teaspoon salt

3 tablespoons baking powder 

1 stick of butter, melted

1 cup of milk (maybe a bit less. Not soggy.)

 

So simple.  Dry stuff together, then add the wet stuff and stir.

 

On that no so bright early morning, The Careless Cook decided not to go with sugar and nuts, although those are good. Instead, he rummaged through the frig.  Voila! A chunk of cheese. In this case sharp cheddar from Australia.

 

How much is a chunk? Whatever you’ve got, but not too much. A thick piece that fits right in the palm of your hand is about right. 

 

With cheese, The Chef prefers to shred instead of buying pre-shredded.

 

Then he found two chicken andouille sausages.

He chopped them up, then put them in the food processor and ground the fool out of ‘em.

The shredded cheese and ground sausage went in the batter and was mixed furiously.

 

At that point, time was running low and anxious, not because it took a long time, but The Caseless Cook had been too careless on when to start. 

 

Instead of making flat biscuits, he used a tablespoon to put lumps on the baking sheet and pressed them down just a little, with his clever fingers.

 

He had to use two baking sheets for all the biscuits, each batch in the oven for 12 minutes.

 

When done, an envoy delivered the goods, then he went back to bed.

 

Although he did consider a small cup of wine.

 

 

 

Paris oh Paris!

 

Paris oh Paris, why so quicky gone. 

 

No longer may I sip the wine in old accustomed bars,  

 

Hemingway, Pablo, Joyce, Fitzgerald  

whisper to me from the dusty past 

 

And chart my course through what no more remains.

 

And swells the mind with poignant frothy words.

 

Oh, hurry to rejoice such bluesy jazz in smokey rooms

 that swings with Baker, Bechet, Hawkins, Porter! 

 

A throbbing tale that still lives within. 

 

Oh, happiness, such a Paris forever gone

and yet forever lives. 

 

Oh there I find my way.  

 

Ah, Paris, where are you now?

 

And where again am I?  

 

As today speeds past into tomorrow. 

 

Yet in my soul slumbers on while Paris lives.