Sun Oct 12 2003 20:03 PST (Susie's Leaning Tower of Chocolate): John made sweet and sour chicken for dinner tonight. Real, genuine Chinese kind. It was so yummy! He deep-fried the chicken in cornstarch, and cooked it with real sweet and sour sauce, onions, green peppers and pineapple. Yummy!

Sun Oct 12 2003 23:03 EST (Susanna Chadwick): John made sweet and sour chicken for dinner tonight. Real, genuine Chinese kind. It was so yummy! He deep-fried the chicken in cornstarch, and cooked it with real sweet and sour sauce, onions, green peppers and pineapple. Yummy!

Mon Oct 13 2003 03:03 PST (Susanna Chadwick): John made sweet and sour chicken for dinner tonight. Real, genuine Chinese kind. It was so yummy! He deep-fried the chicken in cornstarch, and cooked it with real sweet and sour sauce, onions, green peppers and pineapple. Yummy!

Fri Oct 17 2003 19:49 PST (Leonard Richardson) Peach Ice Cream: The name's Derek Lask. It says "Private Eye" on the door, but I'm actually a gumshoe. On that particular day, I was peeling and pitting five peaches. A dame walked into my office just as I finished scraping the peels into the compost bucket.

"I heard you were a gumshoe," she said, setting her purse on my Formica countertop. I started blending three of the peaches with a quarter-cup of lemon juice, and mashed up the other two with a potato masher.

"You heard right, sister," I said, tossing my chewed-up cigar into the wastebasket. You can't chew cigars with a classy dame like that around--just one of the pillars underlying my general anti-classy-dame policy. "What can I help you with?"

"It's about this slightly-more-than-a-cup of sugar," said the dame, opening her purse to reveal an overful measuring cup. "It's such an odd measurement; whatever can I do with it?"

"Just leave it to me, babe," I said, stirring it into the mashed peaches and pouring the puree on top. "I'll use it as an ingredient in a peach-flavored ice cream that will melt your troubles away."

"Then... that explains the two cups of milk and cream simmering on the stove," she said breathlessly, almost swooning over the counter.

"You catch on quick, toots," I replied in a businesslike manner, picking the pot off the stove and pouring the mixture atop the peaches. "Care to help me stir?"

"Only if I can add a couple drops of orange extract to the mix," purred the aforementioned dame.

"Add orange juice if you want," I told her. "Just remember: it's a simple recipe. There's no need to dress it up."

Fri Oct 17 2003 22:49 PST (News You Can Bruise) Peach Ice Cream: The name's Derek Lask. It says "Private Eye" on the door, but I'm actually a gumshoe. On that particular day, I was peeling and pitting five peaches. A dame walked into my office just as I finished scraping the peels into the compost bucket.

"I heard you were a gumshoe," she said, setting her purse on my Formica countertop. I started blending three of the peaches with a quarter-cup of lemon juice, and mashed up the other two with a potato masher.

"You heard right, sister," I said, tossing my chewed-up cigar into the wastebasket. You can't chew cigars with a classy dame like that around--just one of the pillars underlying my general anti-classy-dame policy. "What can I help you with?"

"It's about this slightly-more-than-a-cup of sugar," said the dame, opening her purse to reveal an overful measuring cup. "It's such an odd measurement; whatever can I do with it?"

"Just leave it to me, babe," I said, stirring it into the mashed peaches and pouring the puree on top. "I'll use it as an ingredient in a peach-flavored ice cream that will melt your troubles away."

"Then... that explains the two cups of milk and cream simmering on the stove," she said breathlessly, almost swooning over the counter.

"You catch on quick, toots," I replied in a businesslike manner, picking the pot off the stove and pouring the mixture atop the peaches. "Care to help me stir?"

"Only if I can add a couple drops of orange extract to the mix," purred the aforementioned dame.

"Add orange juice if you want," I told her. "Just remember: it's a simple recipe. There's no need to dress it up."

Fri Oct 17 2003 22:49 PST (Leonard Richardson) Peach Ice Cream: The name's Derek Lask. It says "Private Eye" on the door, but I'm actually a gumshoe. On that particular day, I was peeling and pitting five peaches. A dame walked into my office just as I finished scraping the peels into the compost bucket.

"I heard you were a gumshoe," she said, setting her purse on my Formica countertop. I started blending three of the peaches with a quarter-cup of lemon juice, and mashed up the other two with a potato masher.

"You heard right, sister," I said, tossing my chewed-up cigar into the wastebasket. You can't chew cigars with a classy dame like that around--just one of the pillars underlying my general anti-classy-dame policy. "What can I help you with?"

"It's about this slightly-more-than-a-cup of sugar," said the dame, opening her purse to reveal an overful measuring cup. "It's such an odd measurement; whatever can I do with it?"

"Just leave it to me, babe," I said, stirring it into the mashed peaches and pouring the puree on top. "I'll use it as an ingredient in a peach-flavored ice cream that will melt your troubles away."

"Then... that explains the two cups of milk and cream simmering on the stove," she said breathlessly, almost swooning over the counter.

"You catch on quick, toots," I replied in a businesslike manner, picking the pot off the stove and pouring the mixture atop the peaches. "Care to help me stir?"

"Only if I can add a couple drops of orange extract to the mix," purred the aforementioned dame.

"Add orange juice if you want," I told her. "Just remember: it's a simple recipe. There's no need to dress it up."

Sat Oct 18 2003 05:49 PST (Leonard Richardson) Peach Ice Cream: The name's Derek Lask. It says "Private Eye" on the door, but I'm actually a gumshoe. On that particular day, I was peeling and pitting five peaches. A dame walked into my office just as I finished scraping the peels into the compost bucket.

"I heard you were a gumshoe," she said, setting her purse on my Formica countertop. I started blending three of the peaches with a quarter-cup of lemon juice, and mashed up the other two with a potato masher.

"You heard right, sister," I said, tossing my chewed-up cigar into the wastebasket. You can't chew cigars with a classy dame like that around--just one of the pillars underlying my general anti-classy-dame policy. "What can I help you with?"

"It's about this slightly-more-than-a-cup of sugar," said the dame, opening her purse to reveal an overful measuring cup. "It's such an odd measurement; whatever can I do with it?"

"Just leave it to me, babe," I said, stirring it into the mashed peaches and pouring the puree on top. "I'll use it as an ingredient in a peach-flavored ice cream that will melt your troubles away."

"Then... that explains the two cups of milk and cream simmering on the stove," she said breathlessly, almost swooning over the counter.

"You catch on quick, toots," I replied in a businesslike manner, picking the pot off the stove and pouring the mixture atop the peaches. "Care to help me stir?"

"Only if I can add a couple drops of orange extract to the mix," purred the aforementioned dame.

"Add orange juice if you want," I told her. "Just remember: it's a simple recipe. There's no need to dress it up."

Mon Oct 27 2003 17:28 PST (Susanna Chadwick) A recipe for Alyson: I have never tried falafel because I've made before. When I worked at the Cannon center I made it probably three times. Two cans (#9) of chickpeas, a cup of flour, 1 bunch of parsley (actually, cilantro, I think) and a giant glop (1/3 cup?) of bottled garlic in water. Stick it all in the chopper-upper and fry into pancakes. Yeah, so I've never tried it.

I made potato soup today. It was a little bland; I think I put too much water, too. Disappointing, because I spent a lot of time on it. We even cut the vegetables up last night so we wouldn't be eating really late tonight.

See, I always write about cooking. Rachel is giving me French lessons (instead of writing her paper) and I have sniffle-ies.

Mon Oct 27 2003 18:28 PST (Susie's Leaning Tower of Chocolate) A recipe for Alyson: I have never tried falafel because I've made before. When I worked at the Cannon center I made it probably three times. Two cans (#9) of chickpeas, a cup of flour, 1 bunch of parsley (actually, cilantro, I think) and a giant glop (1/3 cup?) of bottled garlic in water. Stick it all in the chopper-upper and fry into pancakes. Yeah, so I've never tried it.

I made potato soup today. It was a little bland; I think I put too much water, too. Disappointing, because I spent a lot of time on it. We even cut the vegetables up last night so we wouldn't be eating really late tonight.

See, I always write about cooking. Rachel is giving me French lessons (instead of writing her paper) and I have sniffle-ies.

Mon Oct 27 2003 20:28 EST (Susanna Chadwick) A recipe for Alyson: I have never tried falafel because I've made before. When I worked at the Cannon center I made it probably three times. Two cans (#9) of chickpeas, a cup of flour, 1 bunch of parsley (actually, cilantro, I think) and a giant glop (1/3 cup?) of bottled garlic in water. Stick it all in the chopper-upper and fry into pancakes. Yeah, so I've never tried it.

I made potato soup today. It was a little bland; I think I put too much water, too. Disappointing, because I spent a lot of time on it. We even cut the vegetables up last night so we wouldn't be eating really late tonight.

See, I always write about cooking. Rachel is giving me French lessons (instead of writing her paper) and I have sniffle-ies.

Tue Oct 28 2003 01:28 PST (Susanna Chadwick) A recipe for Alyson: I have never tried falafel because I've made before. When I worked at the Cannon center I made it probably three times. Two cans (#9) of chickpeas, a cup of flour, 1 bunch of parsley (actually, cilantro, I think) and a giant glop (1/3 cup?) of bottled garlic in water. Stick it all in the chopper-upper and fry into pancakes. Yeah, so I've never tried it.

I made potato soup today. It was a little bland; I think I put too much water, too. Disappointing, because I spent a lot of time on it. We even cut the vegetables up last night so we wouldn't be eating really late tonight.

See, I always write about cooking. Rachel is giving me French lessons (instead of writing her paper) and I have sniffle-ies.