SweetWitch
Green Goddess
- Joined
- Oct 9, 2005
- Posts
- 20,354
Hey, taking care of all this fur requires a lot of shampoo! I'll be back but there's a Provencal Chard Pie in the kitchen waiting . . .
That sounds interesting. What's it taste like?
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Hey, taking care of all this fur requires a lot of shampoo! I'll be back but there's a Provencal Chard Pie in the kitchen waiting . . .
What is cop a feel day? That that tomorrow?
That sounds interesting. What's it taste like?
What is cop a feel day? That that tomorrow?
This makes either a really decent brunch with champagne and fresh fruit or a light dinner with a big green salad and a light Riesling or Chardonnay. I recommend cream puffs for dessert.
Let's put it this way. If you have a kid who hates leafy green vegetables, this is the answer!
A Swiss chard quiche in the Provençal Manner
1-2 bunches of Swiss chard
2 tsp scallions/chopped onion/shallots (your choice)
3 Tbs. butter
3 eggs
1 ¾ cup cream
Salt and pepper
1 baked 9-10” pie shell
¼ cup pine nuts
¼ cup raisins (optional)
Take the leaves off the stems of the chard and drop in boiling water. When it returns to boil, blanch for 2-4 minutes, depending on how mature the chard is. Remove from water, drain and chop. You will need 1 ¼ cups of chopped chard leaves. Save the stems for another meal or as celery substitute.
Melt the butter and sauté the scallion/onion/shallot until transparent. Stir in the chard and let it cook at low temperature until all liquid is boiled off. Set aside.
Whisk the eggs and cream together with salt and pepper then stir in the vegetables and raisins, if used, and pour into the pie shell. Sprinkle the nuts over the top and put into a pre-heated 375 F. oven for 35-55 minutes, depending on how long it takes for the custard to set and to gently brown on top.
This makes either a really decent brunch with champagne and fresh fruit or a light dinner with a big green salad and a light Riesling or Chardonnay. I recommend cream puffs for dessert.
I should have asked here.
Is my breast still intact? Or am I seeing things?
Someone just called me a "he".
I'm worried. Yesterday you were banging your head on the desk, but I thought you were joking.
That looks wonderful. Seems very quiche-y. Yum.
Don't be insulted. Some guys have man-boobs.
That is basically what it is. I read about such a thing over twenty years ago and then spent the next fifteen or so searching for the recipe. Finally, one quiet night when HM and I were the only customers in a little French restaurant (long gone and much lamented) the owner and I discussed the problem. She went back into the kitchen and spoke with the chef who handed her a recipe book to show me. Of course, it was in French but I got the general idea. Obviously, the next step was to find something similar. A spinach quiche provided the framework and the raisins/currants and pine nuts were from my memory of the original. It's really quite easy to make. You can dash it into the oven in under 30 minutes and dinner can be ready in less than an hour and a half, most of which is spent sitting sipping the white wine as an appetizer. It's one of HM's favorites. Whenever we're at odds with each other I make it and all is forgiven.
You two fight? Say it isn't so!
Fight? Uh, not exactly. But sometimes the atmosphere gets a touch tense. Fatigue and a stressful will do that, after all. But we haven't slammed a door or thrown anything at each other in years!
Well, shoot. Where's the fun in that?
He disappeared. Don't think he got to thinking of the make up possibilities and went off to start a fight, do you?
That's mostly because there isn't any myth about Lyda and the Bear.
I wouldnt' blame him.
How about Molly and the Bear?
I wouldnt' blame him.
How about Molly and the Bear?
That one is in my sig line . . .
I'm going to through a tantrum. So there.
Got any pictures? Wanna pose for pictures?
And yet, no matter how gorgeous the model, it isn't a sexual one . . . at least for this painter. I get wrapped around precise curves and exact color depictions. After two or three hours, even given plenty of rest stops for the poor model to stretch, I'm exhausted. I'll never know how Renoir was able to both paint and bone his young models (while his anxious family listened through the studio door. They were afraid the old guy would have a coronary!)