The impetus for this recipe is a request by my non-cooking sister. Actually, Tracy feigns ignorance, when, in fact, she knows more than she lets on. Don’t play poker with her. She recently moved, renovated her kitchen, and has begun haunting the local fresh market. Like most home cooks I know, Trace wants quick, no-frills recipes that can be prepared on the fly.  And because she’s lived in South since her college days, she’s developed a taste for things like grits (and hog jowls, ‘possum, and cooter, for all we know).

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Once upon a time I had five children: two step children and three of my own. As you can imagine, school vacations were a challenge. But every year, one day out of the February week was devoted to a party. I don’t know how the tradition started; it just evolved.

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There are people who swear by garlic as a cold preventative.  Clinical studies aren’t definitive on its efficacy for colds, however.  In truth, the fumes alone probably work to keep other people away from you, which is my preferred method of preventative cold measure, anyway.  Forget Airborne; a couple of cloves of primo elephant garlic and people flee like thieves in the night.

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Poor Chuck. Half of my students think he leads the life of a louche gourmand, feasting nightly on truffles and foie gras, then dithering between the Napoleon or Vieille Reserve while brushing stray ash from his pantela off his silk smoking jacket. Other students only know him as the pot washer, dashing onto the scene at the end of class, tackling mounds of dirty dishes, sacrificing so they don’t have to, asking only that a small plate of congealed leftovers be set aside to assuage his hunger. He’s the Scarlet Pimpernel of CU (with me cast in the role of Madame du Guillotine, of course, since I “make” him do the dishes).
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