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    A Kumbaya Curry

    After all that talk about donuts yesterday, dinner was either going to be a complete breakdown at Krispee Kreme or, to forestall that, spontaneously asking friends over (including Republicans) to share a one-dish meal intended to be nourishing, rejuvenating and reconciling. So I called some friends (most of whom, in Charleston, are Republicans) and then started looking around for ingredients on hand in the kitchen that would fit the criteria.

    The surprisingly successful result (if I may say so myself)  was this one-of recipe, in the sense that: a) I made it up as I went along; and that b) with the exception of the celery stalks (no bad jokes about celery, please) it basically calls for (1) of everything -- to keep it simple, because some of us cannot cook, talk on the phone and track comments at TPM at the same time.

    Here, then, offered in the hope of beginning to reconcile the fractious factions of TPM, is "Kumbaya Curry." 

     Dry/Moist Ingredients:

    (1) roasted chicken (sorry, Bwak)

    (1) bunch of baby carrots

    (1) large onion

    (3) stalks of celery (including leaves, please)

    (1) Granny Smith Apple

    (1) about to be over-ripe banana

    (1) bag, or small box of golden raisins

    Spices:

    (1) bay leaf

    (1) small bunch of fresh parsley

    salt (use restraint, especially if you use sea salt)

    pepper ( your call on amount)

    Curry powder (an  I must be mad, reckless amount)

    Liquid ingredients:

    Olive oil mixed ½ and ½ with canola oil

    (1) can or box of chicken stock

    (1) generous splash of  an oaky Chardonnay

    (1) individual container of Activia yogurt (preferably lemon-vanilla)

    Directions:

    1)Shred roasted chicken (make sure to remove all skin, bones and those shudder-inducing gangly bits)

    2) Chop, slice and dice all base ingredients

    3) In an insulated base dutch oven (or a wok if it has a cover), sauté  carrots, celery and onion in olive/canola oil (about 7-10 minutes or until the onion is brown/ transparent.)

    4) Add a bit more oil; then toss in chicken, apple, banana and raisins; add bay leaf, parsley and wine; sauté entire mixture for about 5 minutes.

    5) Turn down to simmer.

    6) Combine chicken stock,  yogurt, salt, pepper and curry powder (pre-wisk this to prevent separation); add to curry base and stir.

    7) Put the cover on and simmer for at least an hour, adding only enough water, wine or chicken stock episodically to prevent sticking.

    8) Remove bay leaf and limp parsley. Adjust seasoning to taste.

    9) Inhale aroma; say Ahhhh.

    10) Greet friends. After dinner, (during which you have consciously smiled more and argued less) sing Kumbaya.


    Any ideas for refinement of this recipe gratefully accepted. Any other ideas for reconciliation recipes encouraged.

    Ciao. No, Chow,

    ww


    Comments

    Instead of Chicken can the Leadership of the Democratic Party substitute Crow?


    It sounds delicious; do you eat it over rice?

    The only addition: after adding the generous splash of Chardonnay, guzzle the rest of the bottle just before the guests show up. They should have been bringing some wine, anyway!


    Roasted crow seems to be the order of the day, today, Resistance; very clever.


    Carolina rice - you betcha. Or plain as a stew.
    As to the wine, this is a strictly BYO crowd, by mutual agreement. (No one could afford the refills for a few of them.)
    BTW, Wendy, my neighbor left me a message while I was out today, to let me know that he had accepted a package for me (from CO)!!!!! He's out now, so the suspense is killing me. THANK YOU, dear sister.


    Lord-a-god, woman, I'm so glad! I had all but given it up!!!
    Plus: are you off your emails lately?
    Anyway, hot-diggity on the package! In my mind, it didn't find you, and was circling back to Colorado.
    Last summer I sent J brownies for his birthday, enough for his whole crew. Sent them express, or whatever, but they were out on a fire when they arrived at the base. His boss was pissed about it (long story, but not very interesting) so he SENT THEM BACK. It took forever, and they had grown green fur by then. I was soooo tempted to put the can in new wrappings, and address them to his boss. My better angels, for better or worse, won out. Kumbayah. ;-}


    This diary disappeared last night; glad it's resurrected. Hope your neighbor got home...


    Someone's cookin' Lord / Kumbaya.
    Thanks for the recipe Wendy,
    sounds prodigious.


    You can visit anytime.


    Ahhh, Wendy; thanks, but I was thankful, actually, when it disappeared. Because on re-reading it, this morning, the degree of wine and/or ego-fueled pride seemed egregious.
    Let this be another lesson to me.
    Still -- as a leftover, what's actually-in-the-larder exercise, it is a good curry. A miracle, really.


    I have the feeling that this should be a blog of its own; but, failing that, when such serious political issues are under discussion, may I say, parenthetically but essentially, that WENDY DAVIS is amazing -- the woman I would hope to be on my best day: intelligent, thoughtful, insightful, humorous. And that she sent me a care package -- without prior knowledge of what would move me.
    In that package Wendy Davis sent me:
    herbs and tablets to boost my woefully-compromised immune system;
    a perfume formulated by Wendy to acknowledge my over-active sense of scent;
    a Navajo coral necklace, an Iranian necklace, and personal family jewels that belonged to her own grandmother in the form of a brooch and earrings; and
    precious books: Longfellow, Fouqué and Kipling -- slim volumes of treasure, resonating with me, unbeknowst to Wendy Davis, because my mother was a poet with a velvet voice who read these verses aloud to us -- first and foremost: Evangeline.
    I am struck dumb. Humbled. And grateful for this Wendy Dais, who has enriched all our lives on TPM, as well as my life, personally,
    And: her trail mix is absolutely addictive.


    That looks darn close to either "Mulligan" stew or what I refer to as Missouri Gumbo - we threw in tomatoes and peanut butter - tomatoes absolutely necessary if you also use okra (sacrilegious for Louisiana folk i know). Anyway, folks in Missouri (at least my people in my youth) had never heard of curry, so hot sauce was the replacement. Mulligan stew, also known as "everything but the kitchen sink" or hobo stew, is an at hand meal. Any unfortunate combination can be covered up by one of the great three - vinegar, hot sauce, or the consistent winner ... (wait for it) ketchup.

    If persnickety folks are coming for dinner DON'T call it "Mulligan Stew." Try "Montage de ragoùt" or something. Amazing what folks in the U.S. will eat if they think it is "fancy" (escargot for example).

    I found this extends to other areas as well. I rescued a mutt who had puppies and I was trying to find homes for them. I listed them in the paper as 100% "American Curbstone Setters" and they went like proverbial hotcakes.


    Rowan: I too often don't reply to your blogs..... because I am so often awe-stricken by your greater knowlege. But, Rowan, we are all so close to each other -- under the skin, despite the divisions of both education and professional history -- that my failure to respond is one of cowardice.
    Please, forgive me, and encourage me, if you will, to just respond.


    Wendy, JEEZ. I ALWAYS appreciate your comments. I blog hoping thoughtful people with heart will comment. You get five stars in both those categories. Not to mention, you are a damn fine writer and I am a hack. No writing training beyond one composition class in college.

    Please comment if you feel like it. There is no obligation to do so, but I appreciate your participation.


    Rowan: I missed your reference to ketchup as one of the three secret ingredients to save a dish.
    A southerner knows that is true, no matter how déclassé it may be. It neutralizes tomato acidity with, dare we say it, sugar and is therefore of value.
    Years ago, when I was a student and had no money while living in San Francisco, I made up a recipe to use up leftover red cabbage because I wanted a heartier variation on "Bubble & Squeek."
    The saving graces of that recipe -- which otherwise involved the (yawn) usual suspects of sauteed onion, garlic, carrots, celery were: a) braised avocado; b) a soupcon of ketchup.
    I made it both with ketchup and without, and I can aver that "with" was far better.
    As Garrison Keillor says: "Ketchup: it's not just for breakfast anymore."


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