I've been very bad about blogging for months now. Haven't tried competing in any contests, either. I've been occupied with other things. Trying to get back to writing now.
I have been cooking. We had doughnuts this afternoon, homemade, for the first time in ages. They were a simple, but sublime, creation. They are what plain cake doughnuts aspire to be, but do not normally achieve. Gina and I found the recipe, entitled "Sour Cream Doughnuts", in a spiral-bound cookbook we found at a thrift store, entitled "Out of Old Nova Scotia Kitchens". They are a basic doughnut, made of eggs, buttermilk and sour cream, sugar, flour, with a hint of cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg. After the dough idled in the fridge for awhile I rolled it out thin, cut it in modest rectangles, and tossed the doughnuts into some hot oil. They fried up into airy pillows, tender, delicately spiced, only a little sweet...delightful. A little powdered sugar on top is acceptable. More might be gilding the lily. Gina declared them the best she's ever eaten. I might still hold out for the buttermilk doughnuts I used to pick up on the way to work in San Antonio, at the H.E.B. bakery counter, still warm...mmmmmmmm.
Dinner was a dish inspired by the Andalusia Garbanzos con Chorizo in Clifford A. Wright's "A Mediterranean Feast". In this case, we cooked up a thick, stick-to-your-ribs stew of nutty chickpeas, ample quantities of Portuguese linguica sausage, onions, green bell peppers, tomatoes, seasoned with garlic, paprika, saffron, black pepper and a little white wine, finished with a handful of flat-leaf parsley fresh from the garden. A hunk of sourdough bread to mop up the sauce was all it needed. We stuck to the style of his dish...just fancified it a touch with the garlic, wine and parsley...and substituted the sausage we had on hand. Very, very nice, and my wife and son blessed off on it, to my son's initial surprise. I'm not easy on his autistic desire for the 'same-o, same-o' all the time...lol.
