I love fall.
And, gosh darn fuck it all, how I can't wait for it to get here.
Yesterday it was 84 degrees.In October. Today I asked my husband (weather nerd) how long this unseasonable heat was supposed to last, and he said "cold front comin' Wednesday or Thursday. Supposed to drop to 60's."

So we now refer to fall as a cold front? Good thing there's no such thing as global warming...

Anyway, even if it is hot in October, I still love that the days are getting shorter. Being forced indoors, long before bedtime. No more mandatory playing outside, until bedtime. Or the expected after dinner stroll to the park.

Nope. We're in the house.
All nice and cozy.
And bloggy and knitty.
Performing indecent acts of culinary.
In the kitchen.

This past weekend I indulged my inner squirrel, by cooking a couple big meals and burying half of each into the freeze for the future. Saturday was cabbage roll day. My first attempt. It did not go well.

Well, the meat filling was great, as was the lemon-based sauce. But the cabbage wrap turned out to be less an edible wrap, and more like a protective coat of armor. My sweet husband, who would eat dirt out of shoe box, if offered, said it wasn't that bad. Then added that the cabbage problem was probably his fault, because there were three different kinds, and he just didn't know which one...

Then he asked if we had any dirt.

Sunday I went with La's Drunken Bovine Stew. If you love the meat and the wine and the drinking of the wine, then you've got to try this recipe.

It's just, well, yum.

Rich, exotic, earthy yum.

Drunken yum.

Yum.

I've tossed together a few culinary concoctions, in my day, but rustlin' up this brew was a bit of an adventure. First of all, I've never used turnips in a recipe before. In fact, I was not really sure what I was looking for in a turnip, at the grocery store. Which would explain why I came home with anise, instead. But I digress.

The turnips are perfect in this stew. Earthy. French. Provincial. Well, truthfully, I wouldn't know about that French part. Or the provincial. I'm just talking out of my butt, if you must know the truth.

But, back to the story. The recipe also calls for saffron. I've never used saffron in a recipe before, either. In fact, I didn't even know it was a spice. I thought it was some kind of neo-margarine thangy thing.

I wasn't going to use the saffron, at first. This was mostly because I was uncomfortable dipping into my son's college fund, to buy a spice I wasn't sure I was going to like. Plus, it comes packaged in these little glass vials, that look like something crack might be sold in. Well, maybe in the nicer crackhoods.

In fact, just holding the jar and thinking of crack cocaine, made me feel guilty by association. Then I wondered if buying glass vials of a mystical spice, was a secret gateway to the hard stuff? Well, the 15 dollar an ounce price tag didn't help either. So, I passed on the gateway spice, and decided that if Lawry's seasoned salt and worcestershire was good enough for my ancestors, it was good enough for me.

Back home, after a glass of wine (or so), and a sip of La's powerful broth elixer, I decided that I wanted this shit to be the best that it could be. So I said to myself, College Smollege. I'm going back for the stuff. And that I did. (I almost got into a verbal altercation in the parking lot, with the Spousetard of a Dicktard, but I didn't. I did decide, however, that it's not a good thing to drink and grocerize).

Anyway, in case any of you are thinking of trying the recipe, here's some notes:
1) Next time I'm putting in more turnips. Our store only had them in bags and they were smallish, I think. I wasn't sure how big a medium turnip is supposed to be, so I under compensated.

2)I wasn't sure where/when the garlic powder was supposed to go, so I tossed it with the flour. I only used four cups of water and 2 cups wine and added two extra dollops of bouillon dust. ::My husband has the gout. And I had a taste for the wine. But it came out perfect. Purrr-feckt. ::

3) I used about 1 teaspoon of salt and a quarter teaspoon of pepper. I might do more pepper next time. I love pepper.

In case anyone is interested, here's a shot of a vial of The Stuff



Kind of look like petrified pubes. Ancient, mystical, petrified pubes.

Anyway, hats off to you, La. You're a goddess. I see that today she has posted a cake recipe. With booze. No less. ::Is it just me, or is there a theme emerging, here?::

Knitting Knuggets
I finished the back of that cardie and am to the armhole shaping on the left front. I've had a very pissy attitude about this project, for some reason. I don't know if it's because it's boring, on the heels of lace, or that I feel guilty not finishing Peaches, or that the yarn is futt-bugly. But after I took this picture, I developed a new appreciation for it. It's purty. Dagnabbit.



It's nigh time for me to head to bed.
Tomorrow the Cakers turns four years old. ::sigh::
Wednesday, Cameron turns 19. ::Yeah, that's right. 15 years. And I wasn't young when I had Cam. No, it's not funny. I swear, I was sure my eggs had long turned to powder.::

::Swear.::

Got a busy week lined up. Visits/posts may be few and far between. I leave you with some Handey purls.

I can still recall old Mister Barnslow getting out every morning and nailing a fresh load of tadpoles to the old board of his. Then he'd spin it round and round, like a wheel of fortune, and no matter where it stopped he'd yell out, "Tadpoles! Tadpoles is a winner!" We all thought he was crazy. But then we had some growing up to do. -Jack Handey