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.

 

Sour Cream Pound Cake by The Careless Cook

 

Today your favorite, The Careless Cook offers a delicious, crowd-pleasing Sour Cream Pound Cake.  From the drool on your lips I knew you’d be excited! Well, at least the few subscribers to my blog are excited. Yes, they are few. But do I have tears soaking my apron and sogging my dough? Hardly. The Careless Cook smiles and sends his best to the lucky few.

 

Very nice older ladies, that I barely knew, begged for this recipe. Free Martinis will do that to the elderly. I’m happy Uber helped them find their way to their homes. I didn’t have enough beds. And besides, they were elderly.

 

No casualties.  Didn’t need a first time.

 

Have you ever made pound cakes? Most folks bake it in a Bundt pan, but not the Careless Cook! He uses a ceramic, four-sided, 9 x 12/5, pan, well-greased. But, do what you will. I do.

 

Ingredients (stand by for a cholesterol infusion)

 

2 sticks of butter (one cup) I softened the butter in the microwave

3 cups of sugar

6 large eggs

3 cups all-purpose flour

¼ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 cup (8 ounces) sour cream

2 good splashes of vanilla extract.  

 

I make my own vanilla extract. Vanilla beans (Amazon) chopped and soaking in vodka or bourbon or what you have left from last night. Takes a month or two, but saves money and I think it tastes better. Lots of recipes on the net.

 

Putin’ it together

 

Heat the oven to 325 deg

 

Put sugar and butter in a big bowl and whip until fluffy. I used a hand held, electric mixer.

 

Toss in the eggs one or two at a time and mix well.

 

Stir in the salt, baking powder, and flour and mix, but not too long, just enough.

 

Toss in the sour cream and vanilla extract and mix until you have a smooth batter.

 

Pour the batter in the greased pan and put it in the oven for about an hour, or until the top is light brown. Use the knife test to be sure.   

 

Every oven is different, so always take a peek a time or two along the way.

 

Put on icing if you must, but I don’t must. Went to a “Garden Party to be with my Old Friends”

and they not only devoured the cake, they scraped up the crumbs.

 

The first thing people think:  This take too long! No it ain’t! Takes about 30 minutes and the rest of the time the oven does the work.  Hey! The Careless Cook doesn’t use a recipe that cuts into football or drinking time!  Wait a sec. Those are both the same!

 

You’re gonna love this recipe!

An Excerpt from: Lowdown. Dirty. Shame.

Here's an excerpt from my second novel, Lowdown. Dirty. Shame.  This is barely a taste. Call it a literary hors d'oeuvre. Available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle editions.  Pour yourself a drink.  Settle back.  Get comfortable.  It's a sexy, dirty, romantic, side-splitting, romp of a novel.  Do this author a couple of favors:  Repost this blog to widen my circle of readers.  When you finish the book, write a review on Amazon.  Now, on to the excerpt...

When in doubt, have a drink.  If still in doubt, have another.  I sit on my usual bar stool at The Pagan Cajun, better known as simply Jambalaya. The name of the restaurant hides in small letters on an unlit sign over the door, while Jambalaya garishly flashes and features chili peppers sizzle-dancing on either side.  I gingerly sip the ‘Taste of the Devil,’ a Cajun martini, fired by pepper infused rum.  My lips are aflame.  Fred, the white-aproned barkeep, his back to me, polishes glasses or does something else that needs doing.  He stands next to the huge, heavy bar, stocked with the best libations from the four corners.  With a mirrored back reflecting every bottle and every customer in the place, the bar seems twice as large.  At that moment Fred and I are the only two human reflections. 

I go to bars infrequently, but I make an exception for Jambalaya. It wallows in the comfortable memories of days gone by.  A pressed-tin ceiling, old, cracked black and white tiled floor, cluttered, high marble topped tables and equally worn stools are just the spot for Fitzgerald and Hemingway to swap inspiring platitudes.   Faded posters celebrate ancient Mardi Gras and dirty, smoky jazz.  The place is also as intimate as the sights and smells from your grandmother’s kitchen.  Friday nights they have a trio blowing all the standards until everybody’s fed and all the drunks go home. Weeknights I like it better. Solitude. Thoughts that don’t involve women or money.  All that is about to change.

         She steps through the double, beveled glass doors as gently as an angel looking for a rosebud.  I’d seen her a thousand times before and never seen her at all.  She’s blond and I never go for blonds, but I went for this one.  The powder blue suit and tasteful pearls screams of money and lots of it, but I would have gone for her if she’d been dipped in tar and rolled in feathers.  A line from The Great Gatsby floats through my head, “I hope she'll be a fool -- that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.”  Sounds good, until you look at it from the other side of the bed.

         To a man, cars and women have a lot in common, at least in the love at first sight department.  Love that Corvette!  Gonna buy it?  Probably not.

         I can tell in the first five minutes if this is going to be just a passing fancy.  I don’t know how I know it, only that I know it.

         The bar stool barely squeaks when she sits down.  A delicate floral scent floats past.  Then, the two bluest eyes this side of a Rocky Mountain sky look my direction.  “Mr. Hudson?”

         “Present, clean and sober.”  I forget about my burning lips.

         “May I call you by your first name?”

         “I always go by Hungus”  No I didn’t say that.  “I always go by Hudson, but the first name is Jack, if you’d prefer.”

         “Mr. Hudson...Jack”  she makes it sound like a gently whispered prayer,  “I’m Candy Brunner.”  Candy can’t have reached her thirties yet and I’m not sure anyone’s going to notice when she does.  She holds out her hand.  I take it and don’t want to give it back, but like a true gentleman, I let it slide across my palm and watch it join its partner in her lap.  “I’m a friend of Margot Bliss.”  She produces a lacy handkerchief and dabs at the corner of one eye and then the other.  “I’m just so sad.  It’s tragic, just tragic.” 

         I wonder if she meant tragic in the classical sense, a rise and fall based on a fatal personal flaw, or if she simply meant terrible.  “It certainly is,” I agree, whichever way she means it.

         “And now Arthur has disappeared.”

         “He has?”  I try to keep from looking stunned.  I fail.  Hundred dollar bills with wings appear.

         “You didn’t know?  The authorities have been looking all over for him.” 

I don’t tell her I spoke with him at his office.  Knew he had sounded in a hurry, but not like he was going to depart for places unknown.

         “Wait a minute.”  It’s time for me to put gorgeousness aside and untangle this Gordian knot, “How do you know I had anything to do with Margot?”

         “Hazel told me.”

         “Hazel Armond?”

         “Yes.  She said you were to meet her husband here.”

         “I’m meeting Mr. Armond, but not today.”

         “She said you mentioned you might have a drink here tonight.”

         I’m trying to remember if I had really said that.  If I hadn’t then I’d better watch myself around Hazel Armond because she’s a mind reader.  And how the hell does she know I’d been hired to keep an eye on Margot?  Jesus, that woman is a spy in her own house.  “Oh, right,” I agree, still not remembering.  I’d mentioned something about getting a drink, but was sure it was tomorrow and Armond not being here proves it. “Speaking of a drink, what are you having?”

         “Just a little bit of Perrier,” she says softly, looking at Fred.  Fred turns, smiles and brings a glass, with a slice of lemon on the lip, and small green bottle.  He pours slowly and we all listen to the fizz.  Then he smiles again at Candy and goes back to polishing glasses.  His eyes can’t help but dart up to the mirror now and then.  There are three reflections now and two of us don’t matter.

         “You’re working for Mr. Bliss?  That’s what Hazel said.”  The deep blue eyes wash over me.  She has a little half smile, almost a quirk, except on that face I wouldn’t call it a quirk.  I’d call it Mona Lisa in the flesh.

         “Yeah, I’m working for him, but I don’t know where he is, if that’s what you’re asking.”  At least I hope I’m still working for him.  I need the money even more now that my house has been trashed. He never told me to quit.

         Candy reaches over and pats my knee, a friendly gesture at best, but nevertheless. Women use little touches like brush strokes on a canvas.

         “So, you just came down here to sip some seltzer water and tell me how sad it is about your friend going missing?”  Why does my brain have to work like that?  Why can’t I just enjoy the moment and chalk it up to good fortune?  Because, I started off suspicious and the last couple of twisted days fanned a raging paranoia.  As much as I like myself, I never was leading man material and beautiful women don’t just drop by to enjoy my company.  Small consolation that beautiful women don’t just drop in out of the blue to enjoy anyone’s company.

A Meatloaf, Vinaigrette Potatoes, and Broccoli Meal From The Careless Cook

 

 

Most of the time the Careless Cook offers just a single recipe, but this whole meal is easy to put

together and delicious!  Most of the time you settle on the protein, and then just clutter the plate with anything that floats through your mind.  This meal is worth cooking it all!

 

First is meatloaf.  I know, every mother and grandmother has their own recipe. This one is not too different, except it calls for turkey instead of beef.

 

Been shocked by the price of beef lately?  I’m still recovering. 

 

Also, there is a lot of chat about beef not being good for you. Who knows? On the net, medical charlatans abound. Nothing new. Snake oil has been around since the days of the pioneers. But, I’m getting off track.

 

My Meatloaf

 

3 pounds ground turkey

½ cup yellow mustard

½ cup of Catchup 

1/3 cup Worcestershire 

 

Salt and pepper

 

Mash everything together.  Grease a loaf pan. Put the mixture in.  Set the oven to 350 deg F

And cook for an hour and a half.  

 

Potatoes in Truly French Vinaigrette

 

1 bag of small potatoes, cleaned and sliced into halves or more, depending on the size

 

Important to boil only until barely soft.

 

Vinaigrette 

 

¼ cup shallots, minced or use regular onions. I did.

¼ cup white or red wine vinegar (I used red ‘cause that’s what I had!)

¼  cup of Dijon, or stone ground mustard. (I used the stone ground variety ‘cause guess what!)

½ cup virgin olive oil. Personally I prefer oil with a little experience. 

 

Mix everything together very well, cover and let it sit for 10-15 minutes or so. 

 

Put the warm boiled potatoes in a bowl and pour in the vinaigrette. Toss carefully. Don’t want to mash the potatoes.

 

Broccoli 

 

Steam as much broccoli as needed.  Then splash dashes of Balsamic vinegar over the broccoli as you wish.

 

So, how long did it take? An hour and a half, but you’ve been working only thirty minutes or so.

Even my three lazy constant readers can pay attention for thirty minutes! 

 

I should have mentioned wine. That would have kept them focused.

Braised Beans and Sardines with Fennel from The Careless Cook

 

Unlike most recipes from The Careless Cook, this takes a little time, but no worries, the time is just chopping and slicing and dicing. Even The Careless Cook can get this done pretty quickly while he’s sipping an excellent white wine from the Alsace.

 

Another good thing about this recipe is it feeds at least four of your freeloader friends. Bad thing is, this is so delicious, they’ll be embarrassed to invite you over. 

 

Ok, let’s get going!

 

Ingredients

 

1 fennel bulb. Hack off the stalks and fronds

1 lemon, cut in half

¼ cup olive oil. I don’t care if you’re sacrificing a virgin oil or now.

2 medium shallots, sliced thin

6 garlic cloves, smashed and chopped

¼ cup Italian herbs (I used The Spice Lab Italian Rustico from Amazon)

½ teaspoon (or more) red pepper flakes

½ cup dry or barely sweet white wine

6 cups chicken broth (I used Swanson Organic Chicken Broth)

2 cans of beans of choice (I used one can of red beans and one can of chickpeas)

5 chicken Andouille sausages, cut in arounds

1 can of oil packed sardines, drained (Someone in my house does not like sardines. She sliced and cut excellent salami.)        Both are delicious and with no fish or meat, it's still delicious.

1 cup coarsely chopped parsley

Coarse salt to taste

 

Serve with toasted bread.  I bake 2 Hour Fastest No Knead Bread by JennyCanCook.com.  Online recipe. Don’t let 2 hours scare you. The dough sits for an hour and it bakes for 45 minutes.  And no, I do not know this woman, nor does anyone pay me, but I do love her bread.

Puttin’ it together!

 

Slice the fennel bulb in half, then slice the halves thinly.

Thinly slice one half of the lemon and pick out any seeds.

 

Heat the oil in a large pot with the top off. Add the sliced fennel,

shallots, garlic, lemon slices, red pepper flakes, andouille sausage rounds, and cook, stirring occasionally, until everything is soft. 

Takes about 5-7 minutes.

 

Add wine to the pot. Pour in the broth and bring to a boil.

 

Reduce to a simmer, stirring for about five minutes. Fennel should be tender.  

Add the beans and cook another 8-10 minutes to let the beans soak up some broth.

 

Stir in the parsley, taste and add more salt to taste.

 

Serve in bowls of your choice, and place the sardines or whatever your heart desires and squeeze the other half of the lemon over the top.

 

There will be some luscious wine left for you! No worries. Your freeloaders are probably Beer swillers. 

With sardines on top.

 

 

Blueberry Muffins from The Careless Cook

 

Sometimes someone snaps the whip to let me know I better get cracking and bake something for a hens’ party that starts within the hour. Normally happens when I have just mixed an icy martini, and settled into my lounge chair, just at kickoff.

 

But, the Careless Cook is one fast cookie, or muffin man. He’ll be back in front of the TV rapidly. 

 

Few know that my muffins are quick.  I say let those of the gentle sex continue to think the Careless Cook is a kitchen marvel. Or as the French say, C’est une merville! !  (Say-toon-mairvay) Sounds better in French. A lot of things do. But we’ll discuss that over a second martini.

 

Dang! My team just fumbled! It's time to get baking!

 

Ingredients

 

¼ cup sugar

1/3 cup butter melted

2 eggs

1 teaspoon or a quick slosh of vanilla extract

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

4 teaspoons baking powder

¾ cup milk

Two cups blueberries, fresh or thawed

 

Puttin’ It Together

 

Oven to 425 F or 220 C. Do it now!

 

Large bowl.  Put together sugar and melted butter and mix well. I used an electric hand mixer.

 

Add eggs and vanilla extract and beat well. 

 

Toss in flour, salt, and baking powder, and beat well.

 

Pour in the milk a little at a time and beat just long enough to be combined.

 

Gently fold in the blueberries.

 

Drop scoops of the batter into greased muffin tins or do as I do and use paper muffin cups (Amazon), as you can see.

 

Bake muffins for 22 minutes.  

 

Took me about thirty minutes or less to get it in the oven and get back to the game. Quelle merveille! Kel mer-vay.

 

 

Simple Lemon and Walnut Cake by the Careless Cook

 

I readily admit you haven’t heard from the Careless Cook in a while. Make that a long while. Have a bunch of excuses. No. Not correct.  Only one. Poetry.  

 

I can hear my three faithful readers gurgling as they chug some of their beer and let the rest spill down their faded, stained t-shirts, mumbling: “Stop with the chatter! And gimmie me sump-ten ta eat! And make it good stuff! I ain’t waitin’ much longer!”

 

Ok, zip up your pants and follow this recipe, drunk or sober, as if you have a choice. Get your wife to help you with the big words.

 

Time to cut to the kitchen.

 

Simply a Lemon Walnut Cake that you can start stuffing in your mouth in 45 minutes.

 

Ingredients

 

1 cup white sugar

½ cup of butter, softened (I used 30 second in a microwave oven.)

2 large eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla extract (or one glug)

2 teaspoons baking powder, more of less 

¾ cup milk (I use oat milk)

1 tablespoon lemon zest – now is when your wife has to stop in

1 tablespoon lemon juice. (Maybe little more, because the Careless Cook just doesn’t care)

A good hand full of walnuts, crushed (I fold the nuts in a dishtowel and use a rolling pin to teach those nuts a lesson)

 

Very Simple Icing

 

3 tablespoons butter, melted

2 teaspoons lemon juice

3 heaping teaspoons powdered sugar

 

Stir well.

 

 

Getting’ it Done and Keepin’ it Simple

 

Oven to 350 deg F (175 deg C)

 

For baking, I used a well-greased 9 by 9 inch ceramic pan

 

Use a large mixing bowl and beat sugar and butter until fluffy. I used an electric hand mixer.

Then add eggs and vanilla, lemon zest and lemon juice. Use that mixer and really get it together!

 

Add the flour and baking powder. Use that hand mixer viciously.  

 

Add the nuts and do the same.

 

Then add the milk and do more damage. 

 

Drop it all in the 9 by 9 inch baking pan. Bake for 45 minutes. Top should be lightly brown, but still give it the knife test.

 

Make the icing and paint it on.  The first coating it will glisten. When it’s not so glistening, paint on some more and then some more of the same until all the icing is used.