9 July 2002

I fear I have a new addiction.

It's all K.T.'s fault, of course. She was telling me about some of the new features of the Epicurious website, including a "recipe box" - a collection of links to your favorite recipes - and extended search capabilities.

I didn't think much of it until yesterday morning, when I happened to get into a discussion with Karen and Rachel about funnel cakes. Rachel happened to ask if I had a recipe - and I do, but it's one my mom gave to me, which means it's on a disk... somewhere.

Being the kind and wonderful person that I am, I thought I'd look up a quick recipe for her on Epicurious. Well, Epicurious is a companion website for the magazines Bon Appetit and Gourmet, and it doesn't have a recipe for such a mundane thing as funnel cakes.

But I started poking around, and I found the browse function, where you can search by main ingredient, course, occasion, preparation method, or cuisine. K.T. had found herself drawn to the African cuisine; me, I found myself helplessly flipping through the Middle Eastern section.

("It's couscous, baby!")

I wound up with fifteen recipes in my recipe box, some of which I intend to try very soon. (Others make bigger meals with more exotic ingredients, and I'll have to wait for a weekend. One of them calls for dried rose petals, which I'm pretty sure I'd have to special-order, as the kind you eat is not the kind you grow for decorative purposes - but I really want to try it!)

To make matters worse, Jeremy told me that the snotty over-priced grocery store (where I occasionally go for unusual or exceptional produce, and for fresh mozarella cheese) has started stocking sundried tomatoes, and now I'm tempted to go up there after work today to see if they have the cheese that would let me make my favorite salad.

Gah. And all this talk of food has made me hungry already... Four hours 'til lunch. I wonder if I can make it?

It's a weed, but I've always loved Queen Anne's Lace. There's rather a lot of it growing in our jungle.

 
Queen Anne's Lace
(by Mary Leslie Newton)
 
Queen Anne, Queen Anne, has washed her lace
(She chose a summer's day)
And hung it in a grassy place
To whiten if it may.
 
Queen Anne, Queen Anne, has left it there
and slept the dewey night;
Then waked to find the sunshine fair,
And all the meadows white.
 
Queen Anne, Queen Anne, is dead and gone
(She died a summer's day)
But left her lace to whiten on
Each weed-entangled way!

--Liz