Friday, January 16, 2015

Friday: Vacuum Day - Mushroom Onion Pie - Poem: The Compost Heap

 I emailed "Skeet" of Leraysville Cheese Farm that I made a delicious omelet using his Cheddar Garlic Cheese.

I'd bought it on Wednesday when the Fleishers and I attended the Pennsylvania Farm Show, the largest of its kind in the whole country.

Meditated for 20 minutes today in Sarah's old room. Often, I feel waves of happiness during the day, which I attribute to meditation.

Today, no such feelings. I had a couple of poetry/short story rejections - that are as painful now as a shoe pinching my foot - one guy's name was Michael Hathaway.

They carry on, a panel reviewed it, blah blah blah, and then he said he was sending three attachments, one of which was if I wanna self-publish my work.


I did get a very important poem accepted in a good journal yesterday.

Am sipping on this delicious coffee now.

For lunch I made this Mushroom Onion Pie, the recipe given to me by Pamela Bednarik.

Oh my! She's been written up in Newsday.

I adapted the recipe.

Preheat oven to 350. 

Butter a 9-inch pie plate.

Saute in butter or olive oil one and a half onions and a scant pound of mushrooms.

The mushrooms leave a lot of juice, so I poured it into a cup and drank it. It's like mushroom broth. Delicious!

Put in pie plate and season with turmeric - hence the yellow color - and other available herbs. All I had was black pepper. I never use salt, plus the cheese has plenty of salt.

Grate 1/3 of a block of favorite cheese. I like Cabot Cheddar. Here's why I buy Cabot, rathan Kraft.

Mom just called.

I told her I'd call her back in 20 minutes, when I finish bloggin.

She wanted to talk about the Pennsylvania Farm Show.

"Daddy and I went there years ago," she said.

I am impressed!

She was there and Liza Minnelli was performing. 

Sarah called me today. It was so good hearing from my daughter and kidney donor. She had written an essay about Sophia Rostoff, Ethan's piano teacher. She said Ethan posted it on his blog but I couldn't find it.

Instead I found this interview with my daughter. We'll read it together, after I call Mom.  Heck, I couldn't wait. It's wonderful.

Found Sarah's profile of Sophia. Read it here. 


My ears freeze as I trudge through
the stiff frozen grass to deposit
the garbage of the day
this time, with great excitement.

Last night I dined on lamb chops
sucking on the tender pink meat
and toss the bones
of this oddly shaped cut of meat
on the perimeter.
They resemble the tall spikes
of the peace sign
they stay put for now
on the growing line of
the uneaten:
brown egg shells
tough asparagus stumps
lemon wheels that in
summer will float
soundlessly in
glass pitchers
coffee grounds
flung from an
expensive coffee filter

Two hours later
I return in the dark
a motion-detector
senses my presence
and lights up the
compost heap
under the eye of heaven.

I wanted to know if
the lamb bones had
been digested by
the fox.

Not yet.
Perhaps he is out there
now, dragging them out
to his lair
part of a delicious supper
for himself and the
family, dining without
expensive cutlery
or ceremony

In the morning light
clad in warm jacket
and beret
I will inspect the
compost heap
and rejoice that
the slaying of the lamb
has brought sustenance
and pleasure to man
and beast alike.

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