At our house the special Steelers menu was bean dip with black and gold tortilla chips. Heart healthy because of the fat free refried beans, but not so much with the chips, I guess. And black and gold because they were the only chips on sale at our local Kuhn's grocery store (no fancy Giant Eagle for us, no).
But now we'll have to put away the chips and dip until the next football playoffs, I suppose. J. thinks we could bring back the bean dip for Lent, however, since it's meatless. But it seems a bit too festive for Lent somehow. Maybe if we had only ordinary tortilla chips.
The Steeler Thumbprints remind me of how I made a deal with myself that I would only stop at Krispy Kreme if the hot light is on. If it is not on, no donuts.
This actually works - I haven't been to the Krispy Kreme by my house in months.
I've had Parsley Pie, but I don't remember the watercress. My gran made it - she was Scottish, but that may mean nothing. She was also colonial and fired up many a mean Indian curry in her time which she consumed alongside several G&Ts. For the malaria of course. In Eastbourne.
You give the best links! Love 'um -
Happy Robbie Burns day to you, too, Anne! And I love the To A Mouse poem; it's much better than the haggis poem, in my oh so humble opinion. I think it's the visuals it evokes in my mind's eye of the little mouse house ripped apart by the cruel, sharp blades of the plough, scattering little mouse furniture and winter clothes and copper kettles warming at the tiny hearth every which way.
Besides, it has one of the best Burns lines ever: "The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men/ Gang aft agley."
Happy Bobby Burns' Day. I seem to recall actually reading the order by either the Health Dept or the Trade Commission--which one escapes me right now--banning the import of haggis as unfit for human consumption. The laughter and hooting that caused me nearly caused me to be consumed by consumption--all the coughing, you see. 1976 or 1978. Somewhere back there when our government still had a sense of humor.
What the heck is a thumbprint? Why is it called that? Please?
Rachael: Thumbprint cookies acquire their name from how they're prepared for baking. Once you've got your balls of cookie dough, you press your thumb into each one before you bake it (or when it's almost done, or when you remove it from the oven, according to the recipe and the consistency of the dough). It leaves a little depression or well (depending on how hard you press your thumb into it) which can subsequently be filled with all sorts of nummy things like fruit, jam, frosting, chocolate, nuts, etceteras.
Am I a bad person -- or a young one -- for not knowing what "haggis" is? Please inform.
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