Archive for May, 2007
What’s Cooking Wednesday: Tuna and Bean Salad
Continuing with the refreshing summer theme from last week, this week’s What’s Cooking Wednesday is a tuna and bean salad.
It’s light but filling, healthy but still tasty, and slimy yet satisfying. Always wanted to use that in context. Lion King fans? Anyone?
Oh, and there’s no cooking involved at all, so it’s pretty darn fast as well.
Tuna and Bean Salad
(Tonno e fagioli)
2 cans cannellini beans
2 cans tuna fish
1 small onion cut into chunks
4 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons lemon juice
salt and black pepper to taste
chopped parsley
Pour the beans into a strainer, rinse, drain well, and put in your serving bowl or platter.
Add tuna and onion in large chunks over the beans.
If you want, make the dressing in a separate bowl, but I just add everything all together in the same dish. That’s olive oil, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and parsley.
Toss well (and carefully so as not to break too many beans) before serving, and be sure to taste test first for anything missing.
I add another squeeze of lemon just before serving as well.
Ah, and I should warn you that I won’t be around the rest of the week due to a work conference, so while I’m gone, you have some homework: (1) Be sure to check out the full list of What’s Cooking Wednesday participants over at Shannon’s place;
(2) Have a lookee at Sara’s (Ms Adventures in Italy) Parmeggiano Reggiano Stuffed Onions Wrapped in Prosciutto di Parma;
(3) Explore The Left Over Queen’s Foodie BlogRoll over on my sidebar; and
(4) Report back here and tell me what other kinds of recipes you’d like to see around here, especially any specific ingredients you’re looking to incorporate.
Buon appetito!
just another kitten saved
Yesterday afternoon as I was checking my favorite blogs working hard, I heard a kitten crying, over and over. So I did what any reasonable person would do.
I opened the door and responded, “Meoooooow.”
And the kitten answered.
And I meowed.
And the kitten answered.
We played this game for about thirty seconds as I intermittently asked “dove sei?” (where are you?) but always received the same response. Clearly this little one was stuck somewhere.
So I followed the noise, and I tracked down the kitty to an attic-like space above my neighbor‘s house, only accessible from the outside by a rather unique staircase.
Anna Maria had been up there earlier, so the little one must’ve gotten closed in sometime in the morning. I told Anna Maria what I thought had happened, and she gave me the OK to rescue the kitty.
I started to ask her for a key, but then I realized I was in Calabria, and the likelihood of the door being closed with more than a clever contraption was low. Sure enough, a knotted rope greeted me, and as I started to untie it, I was assured that the kitty was inside because through the crack in the door, its little blue eyes glared at me before it hissed, swatted, and ran into the corner.
Once I opened the door, I saw a space full of firewood, old chairs, stacked terra cotta roof tiles, various sacks, and assorted empty crates, jars, and bottles.
But no kitty.
I searched all over, meowed, and even poked around with a stick to ruffle some things about, but there was no sign of life.
I wanted to leave the door open for a bit to allow the kitten to let itself out, but it was extremely windy and Anna Maria would never go for it. So after a few minutes, I retied the rope behind me and formulated my plan to wait until Anna Maria went to church and then try again.
I was going to have to resume Operation Rescue Kitty da sola (alone).
And so when I heard the bells calling the faithful to Mass, I peeked my head out the door and meowed.
And the little one answered.
I climbed back up the stairs and performed the same routine as before, just in case it was now ready to come out.
Nothing.
So I tied the door partially shut, leaving room enough for escape, descended the stairs, and then started meowing loudly. At this point, I was pretty sure that its mother was around–there is one particular chubby stray that always used to hang around, but I hadn’t seen her in a while. I now assumed she had been on maternity leave.
And I was right.
Within seconds, (skinny) Mamma came rushing around the corner. She looked at me as if to ask, “Where’s my baby?” and so I pointed up the steps. She trotted up there to the crack in the door; immediately the kitten emerged, and they were reunited.
Baby rubbed all around Mamma as Mamma tried to clean the grime off Baby. And boy was the little one hungry.
Eventually Mamma decided on a more comfortable place for feeding where she could finally relax. You could see that she had just been worried sick about her little one from the way she collapsed once they were together again.
And another kitty family slept off into the sunset.
Just so you know, I was never even remotely tempted to spruce up these photos a la the LOLcat movement. I find it a little creepy to be honest with you.
—————
Technorati Tags: cats, kittens, rescuing kittens
honoring the fallen
When I was in seventh grade, I was assigned to make a poem and picture book. I had to find poems on a subject chosen by me, which ended up being “Cats” because I had a calendar from the previous year providing easy illustration.
It was during my research for that assignment that my love for poetry blossomed, and, indeed, I memorized the first poem that ever touched me. I think of it every so often, but always on Memorial Day:
THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER
There’s a graveyard near the White House
Where the Unknown Soldier lies,
And the flowers there are sprinkled
With the tears from mother’s eyes.
I stood there not so long ago
With roses for the brave,
And suddenly I heard a voice
Speak from out the grave:
‘I am the Unknown Soldier,’
The spirit voice began,
‘And I think I have the right
To ask some questions man to man.
‘Are my buddies taken care of?
Was their victory so sweet?
Is that big reward you offered
Selling pencils on the street?
‘Did they really win the freedom
They battled to achieve?
Do you still respect that Croix de Guerre
Above that empty sleeve?
‘Does a gold star in the window
Now mean anything at all?
I wonder how my old girl feels
When she hears a bugle call.
‘And that baby who sang
“Hello, Central, give me no man’s land”-
Can they replace her daddy
With a military band?
‘I wonder if the profiteers
Have satisfied their greed?
I wonder if a soldier’s mother
Ever is in need?
‘I wonder if the kings, who planned it all
Are really satisfied?
They played their game of checkers
And eleven million died.
‘I am the Unknown Soldier
And maybe I died in vain,
But if I were alive and my country called,
I’d do it all over again.’
BILLY ROSE
At twelve years old, I didn’t have a clue as to what most of it meant, but it spoke to me and to my heart, and I’m sure it’s what started me down the path to a degree in history as I investigated what the references to Croix de Guerre, bugle calls, military bands, and profiteers were all about.
Today I’m remembering all who have given their lives in our country’s numerous wars–and although I may not agree with the current war, the troops and their families remain in my prayers. Thank you, and may we remember your service every day and not only a few times a year.In other news, I am happy to report that more of our fallen soldiers can be remembered in the way that they would have wanted; the U.S. Department of Veteran Affairs has agreed to allow the Wiccan pentacle to the list of acceptable symbols for veterans’ graves.
It warms my heart as an American to know that these soldiers and their families can finally enjoy the religious freedom that so many of our fallen have died to preserve.
—————
Technorati Tags: the unknown soldier, memorial day, fallen soldiers, billy rose
Affiliates & Sponsors
Logo Design By
Recipes
