As promised, here is my recipe for scrapple, which I cobbled together for a home kitchen. It doesn’t require a hog’s head and is manageable in an ordinary stockpot. Simmer 4 pounds of pork neck bones in water to cover for four hours or until falling-off-the-bone tender. Strain the broth, reserving both liquid and solids. Pick the meat and fat from the bones and chop very finely, discarding any gristle. You should have 10 cups of strained broth and 2½ cups meat.
If you’re looking for some music to welcome in the new year, may I suggest “Spring” from Ailbhe McDonagh’s Irish Seasons? I love the whole work, but that’s (obviously) the place to start.
Six carved panels in a reclaimed window — a work for spring, that also represents the Annunciation. (More birds singing Bach. My birds always sing Bach.)
You’re going to get AI whether you like it or not, because that’s where the money is.
Made a soup for lunch involving yellow-eye beans and butternut squash with fresh thyme, rosemary, and olive oil and I really cannot decide whether I like it. I think it’s growing on me. If this sounds good to you feel free to stop by, I have plenty.
The ability to dig up a quotation from 10, 100, or 1000 years ago containing a criticism or prediction that parallels some contemporary argument, and observe that “history” proved that prior criticism false, is not an argument about what action to take in the present. The moral of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” is not that because the boy was untrustworthy, the wolf never came.
Birds-eye speedwell and henbit deadnettle. They’re not ostentatious but they’re everywhere around here. And they have ludicrous names.
