I'm not into horror as a genre. Regardless of the media, horror is not - and never has been - my thing. So how is it that the novel I'm trying to publish is a ghost story, and the trilogy I'm currently writing circulates around zombies? Um...all I can say is that the Muse is one weird figment of my imagination.
     The reason I don't read/watch/play horror is simple: I'm a wimp. My imagination is the strongest muscle in my body, and like a toddler who just figured out how to get into the candy cupboard, it likes to take things and run with them. (Sorry for the mixed metaphors there, but that sentence is actually a pretty great example of what I'm talking about.) Most people can watch a movie about evil dolls coming to life and enjoy a good scare, laugh at the absurdity, and then bring it up over beers with friends for years to come. I, on the other hand, would watch said movie, and then for the rest of my life periodically wake up at night to use the bathroom, suddenly remember a scene from said movie for no good reason, and them proceed to be freaked out by every small noise, strange shadow, or temperature fluctuation in the room for another three hours--even though there are no dolls in my home. So I have learned to cut out all horror from my entertainment diet, with the sole exception of Resident Evil video games. ONLY the video games. The movies are not cannon. My marriage depends on this.
      When I was in California last weekend with my brother, the subject of horror came up, and he reminded me that he doesn't go for it, either. Nor did our parents. Which made me ponder whether there might be a nature or nurture component to this. I don't know a lot of horror fans who watched their first truly scary movies with their parents, but maybe family movie night eased them into it? Or maybe there is something genetic going on. Maybe my family lacks the "horror fan" genes. I'll have to talk to my extended family and ponder this more. Do you like horror? Does anyone else in your family? Do you remember how you first got into the genre?
      Of course, just because I avoid scary fiction doesn't mean I don't get scared: real life offers plenty of frightening things. This whole subject was simmering in my head today because of this story about ebola I heard on NPR this morning. I dare you to listen to this and not get at least a tiny chill up your spine. You don't have to work hard to make Ebola scary: it has a high mortality rate, presents appalling symptoms, spreads fast, and you can catch from both living and dead victims. That's about as terrifying as it gets. But this NPR report sounds like a scene from a horror story: a government hospital; cement block buildings with rusty metal doors; doctors and nurses falling ill and dying; a corpse just visible in the next room, lying neglected for days because people are too scared to go in. THAT, my friends, is classic horror material--and it's 100% real.
      And yet, I'm really not scared of catching Ebola. I think I can read about it and get my chills and thrills* and feel safe. This is the way I imagine most people feel when indulging in horror fiction. I am confident that even if there were an Ebola outbreak in my country - even in my neighborhood - I know enough about the disease to avoid contracting it. Like HIV and Hepatitis, as long as I follow the correct precautions, I'm in the clear. Although anyone who knows me can tell you that this does NOT apply to Lyme disease.

A male Blacklegged tick. I will take enraged zombies over one of these guys any day.

Or West Nile Virus.

Why are people afraid of bats? Bats EAT these bastards! I say more bats, MORE!

      Or essentially any disease that I can catch by being bitten by an insect that does not live in the Pacific Northwest, where I grew up. The idea that I could go enjoy a lovely summer hike and emerge with an insect bite (or, in the case of ticks, an insect still biting me) as the only evidence that I have now been infecting with a deadly and/or potentially life-long disease is appalling. Lyme disease is appalling. It's a bacterium known as a spirochete. If you're looking at that word and thinking, "That sounds like a cross between 'spiral' and 'machete,'" that's because IT BASICALLY IS! It's a cork-screw shaped bacteria that burrows into your muscles like a microscopic machete, and hides from antibiotics for freakin' EVER! That's scary as hell!
      Which brings us back to zombies, a horror standard with its root in infection, whether germ- or supernatural-caused. There's plenty of speculation that the western, flesh-eating, appetite-driven zombie has its origins in rabies (another scary-as-hell real-life disease). So why would I want to write about them? Why would my Muse even bother buying a packet of those seeds, much less plant them in my head? In this case, the answer actually comes down to ego--the same ego that I suspect every writer has, whether blatantly or secretly. I look at the plethora of zombie stories out there - the slow ones, the fast ones, the brain-dead one, the "romantic" ones - and I think to myself: You know what? I can do better than that.
      And if I can ever get the bloody thing finished, I really think I can.



*And feel like a $#!% for donating to a cat shelter last Christmas instead of the Red Cross. Although now that I think about it, the fact that I donated to any charity in my current financial state is pretty impressive, so maybe I shouldn't beat myself up.

     I'm a sucker for Thai food. Whether it's authentic recipes, no-apologies heat, or absurdly Americanized adaptations, a trip to my local Thai restaurant inevitably makes my tummy happy. But I can't afford to eat out very often. Which leaves me with few options other than learning to make these dishes myself.
      Asian cuisine is very different from European cuisine, and since I'm of European descent, guess which one was made the most often in my home growing up? The ingredients, flavor profiles, and techniques of French, German, Italian, British, and even Spanish food are much easier for me to grasp. I'm more likely to have the necessary spices and tools in my cupboard. If there's a last-minute hiccough, I'll probably be able to improvise with success. This is soooo not true for me and Asian food (and don't even get me started on authentic South American food)! Yet, I love to eat this stuff. So a few years ago I began slowly pushing myself to become more familiar with Japanese and Indian cooking.
      The first thing I learned? Saying "Indian" or "Japanese" food is a gross generalization. These countries have regions with unique ingredients and long-standing traditions. Local produce will be very different between Hokkaido and Kyushu (which, when you think about it, duh), so the recipes will be different, too. The same is even more true for India! So my self-education has been necessarily slowed by attention to detail. I have only just within the last few months become confident enough to make dal without looking a cookbook for every tiny measurement. That's what true love of food will get you.
      So authentic Thai food is on the to-do list, but don't hold your breath. In the meantime, however, I have been dearly missing some of my favorite foods. Last night I was struck with a longing for Swimming Rama*, a dish I've enjoyed in many an American Thai restaurant but whose authenticity strikes me as somewhat dubious. But who cares! Yum is yum, and that's all that matters at the end of the day. If you've never tried Swimming Rama, it is usually some form of protein (take your pick) served with spinach (or other vegetables, but usually spinach) in a Thai peanut sauce (which can vary so much between restaurants the only consistently identifiable ingredient is the peanut). I usually order this with beef whenever I'm anemic, and chow down without reservation. So last night I whipped up my first ever attempt, and was actually very, very pleased with the result!
      Two disclaimers: Firstly, since I had no idea how this was going to turn out, I did not take photos of the process, and didn't think to take photos of the finished product until after I'd eaten everything. It looked like slices of medium-rare grilled flank steak over brightly colored veggies and steamed rice with a generous amount of peanut sauce on top. Bet you would never have expected that. Secondly: the marinade which is at the core of this recipe is not mine, it is Alton Brown's skirt steak marinade. It is delicious, I use it often, and I could never dream of taking something from the Good Eats Guru and trying to pass it off as my own. This particular use of the recipe and the applied twists, however, was my own culinary flying by the seat of my pants.

Z.D.'s Swimming Rama with Beef (with considerable help from Alton Brown)

for the meat:
1/3 Cup soy sauce (I like low-sodium)
4 green onions, washed and cut into chunks
2 large garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
1/4 Cup fresh lime juice (from about two small limes)
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
2 Tablespoons golden brown sugar (packed)
1/2 teaspoon molasses
1/4 Cup olive oil
1.5 lbs flank steak, cut into two equal sized pieces

 - Place the soy sauce, green onions, garlic, lime juice, pepper flakes, cumin, sugar and molasses into a food processor, and blend until smooth. Pour into a measuring cup--you should have about one Cup of thick liquid. Pour HALF back into the processor for the meat marinade, reserve the rest for the peanut sauce.

 - Add the olive oil to the thick, oniony-soy mixture in the processor, then blend until smooth. Pour into a zip-top bag, add the flank steak, and seal, pushing as much of the air out as possible. Squish around the ensure the meat is coated, then marinade in the fridge for 2-3 hours. In the meantime, prep the sauce and veggies below.

 - When ready to cook the meat, line a broiler pan with foil, place your oven rack on the top-most level, and preheat your broiler. Remove the meat from the marinade (it's Ok if some remains on the meat, it's nummy!) and lay on the prepared pan. Place under the broiler until just beginning the char in some spots, about five minutes, then flip and cook the other side the same. Remove from oven, wrap in foil, and let sit 10-15 minutes to let the juices redistribute.

for the peanut sauce:
the remaining liquid from first part of recipe (about 1/2 Cup)
1 serrano pepper, coarsely chopped (use only half if you don't want a lot of heat)
1 inch piece of ginger, peeled and coarsely chopped (err on the side of generous)
3 large garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
1/4 Cup coarsely chopped cilantro
1/4 Cup coconut milk
1 Tablespoon Thai fish sauce
8 to16 oz natural, creamy peanut butter
1/4 Cup chicken broth or water

 - Return the oniony-soy liquid to the now empty food processor. Add the serrano, ginger, garlic, and cilantro, pulse until smooth. Next add in the coconut milk and fish sauce, and pulse until thoroughly mixed.

*Also appearing on some Thai menus as Bathing Rama, but never yet as Showering Rama or Just-A-Quick-Face-Splashing Rama.

**In most restaurants this dish is made with just scarcely wilted spinach, which is high in iron and very tasty. However, if you've ever applied heat to spinach, you will notice in decreases in volume about 98,045,276 times. You start with bushels of leaves, and you are left with what looks like a leprechaun dropping. So since I like other veggies just as well, and the multiple colors look pretty on the plate, I went with this combo instead. Feel free to use spinach if you want. I'd say get at least four times as much as you think you're going to need, make sure it's THOROUGHLY washed if you didn't get the pre-washed stuff, and then toss it in a large frying pan or wok with just a spoonful of oil over medium-high heat, until every leaf has started to wilt a bit. Don't over do it, or you'll be left with a piddling amount of spinach-colored mush.

      I'm back! Didja miss me? My husband certainly did--I can tell because when I got home there was no food left in the joint except for eggs and instant ramen (breakfast of champions!). My cat missed me, too. She made this abundantly clear by looking at me like she didn't give a rodent's posterior, and then sleeping on my feet all night and purring every time I tried to move.
      My trip to California was everything I could have wanted. There was awesome time with my brother, a crazy awesome pirate wedding experience, warm (and non-muggy) weather, wine tasting, and basking in the splendor of the Pacific Ocean. I don't know why human beings are fixated on water, but we are. Maybe its because the human fetus develops in water for nine months? Maybe it's because living near water gave us a clear survival edge as we evolved as a species? Maybe because it's just friggin' neat? But I've never met a single person who said: "Go to the beach/river/lake? Eh--I could take it or leave it." People LOVE bodies of water. And if you, like me, grew up within spitting distance of three lakes, dozens of brooks, a river, and a finger of the Pacific Ocean, then you understand when I tell you that being land-locked in the middle of the continent sucks.
      Visiting California is a nice remedy for that situation.

      The Pirate Wedding was everything one could hope for. There were brilliant costumes, a perfect venue, swashbuckling adventure involving duels on the deck, and plenty of rum drinks at the reception. I wish I could give you more details and share more pictures, but I'm an adamant believer in not posting images of people on the interwebs without their express permission. So to protect the innocent (not that rum drinks leave much innocence in their wake) I will content myself with the venue...

There she is, the Star of India!

...and plenty of rum drinks:

The one on the left is a MaiTai. The one on the right was something the bartender made up, which became increasingly mixed in color as the evening progressed, until it was unpleasant to behold, but fruity and marvelous to drink! We named it a "Bilge Water," because that's what it looked like, and nobody will ever be able to recreate it.

      There was plenty of "scope for the imagination in my trip. Clearly being aboard the Star of India was enough to make me want to bust out some Patrick O'Brian, but it seemed everywhere I turned there were stories waiting to unfold. Every bunch of grapes in the vineyards was sunlight turned to sweetness, just waiting to become a bottle of possibilities. A holiday dinner? A cheese plate between old friends? A last-minute birthday gift? A date night that ends badly? An anniversary date that ends well? Grape vines themselves are knotty, twisty, and full of attitude, like some wizened elf who knows a thing or two but is also wise enough never to give advice because nobody ever listens.
      But perhaps one of my favorite chapters of my trip was a discovery by the side of the road.

See in the lower left hand corner? Yeah, that's happiness in a perfect shade of strawberry pink, my friend.

Right above this guy's head--see them? Now buy one. Drop what you're doing, go to northern California, and buy one. I'll wait. You can thank me later.

     So if you're wondering why my posts are so erratic this week, the answer is that I'm in California for a pirate-themed wedding on a wooden schooner, with guests in full pirate costume.

...

      Ok, now that you've recovered from your first round of jaw-dropping, gut-wrenching envy, we will continue! I'll be going to this wedding with my brother, so I've been staying with him a few days. Whenever my brother and I get together we end up having an awesome time. There's a lot of reasons for this - Dr. Who marathons, California farmer's markets, making up words like "smorgusflakes," and spankingly good cocktails being a few of them - but of course one of the best parts is the cooking. We are foodies, we are cooks, and we are not afraid to experiment.
      So I chose this visit as an opportunity to try out a notion that's been rattling around in my noggin for a few months: a tart with a blue corn tortilla chip crust, jalapeño dark chocolate ganache, fresh raspberries and a lime creme drizzle. Sound unusual? Well I've never had anything like it. Sound tasty? You bet your barnacles it does! Arrrr!
     The finished product was indeed delicious, although it could probably use some tweaks. I'll share what we did, and note what I might do different next time in parenthesis. Also, this is one of those desserts where you can't just list off all the nummy features and call that a name, because it's too darn long. So if you have ideas for a name, put 'em in a comment and we'll pick our favorite for the official recipe title!

Z.D.'s Blue-Corn-Chip-Crusted Dark-Chocolate-Jalapeño Tart with Raspberries and Lime Creme

For the Crust:
1 & 1/2 Cups crushed Blue Corn Tortilla Chips, from about 3 heaping cups of chips
2 Tablespoons Mexican brown sugar (or dark brown sugar)
6 Tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

The best way to make the crumbs is to pulse the chips with the sugar in a food processor, but if you don't have such a gizmo, just put the chips in a zip-top bag and smash 'em with a rolling pin or a heavy frying pan.

 - Pre-heat your oven to 350º F. Toss the crumbs & sugar in a bowl, drizzle in the butter and mix well. Press the crumbs along the bottom and sides of a 9 inch tart pan with a removable bottom. I like to use a glass with a flat bottom for this, it helps press the mixture smoothly and my fingers don't get all messy. (The next time I attempt this tart, I will crush my tortilla chips more finely--the edges of the tart were just a bit crumbly because I left bigger flakes in the mix, which made it tricky to serve, although the bottom came out great.)

Kinda looks like chocolate, but it's salty blue corn goodness!

 - Bake until set, about 12 minutes. It won't really change color, but you'll just begin to smell it baking when it's time to take it out. Allow to cool completely on a rack, at least one hour.

For the Ganache:
3 Tablespoons agave syrup
1/4 Cup water
One large, fresh jalapeño pepper, split in half lengthwise
6 oz heavy cream
12 oz dark chocolate, finely chopped

 - Combine the water and agave syrup in a small saucepan, bring just to a boil. Toss in the jalapeño, reduce the heat, and allow to simmer until the water is boiled off and you have a nice, pepper infused agave syrup. This took about 8 minutes for us, but keep an eye on it. You're getting close when you can really start to smell the pepper, and when the water is all gone you'll see the liquid is bubbling more thickly.

 - Allow to cool slightly, then purée in a blender or similar kitchen device. Return the purée to the pan, add the cream, and put over low heat, stirring until the mixture is warm and incorporated.

 - Add in the chocolate, and continue to stir over low heat until melted and smooth. Spread the ganache into the cooled tart shell. (This is where we ran into some complications: the chocolate seized up. Because it's hard to find dark backing chocolate, I used half Ghiradell's 100% Cacao - in other words, unsweetened -  and half 60% Bittersweet Cacao, and it worked just fine as far as flavor went, but this may have contributed to the seizing. Since it was for a tart, I used the mixtuer anyway, and there was no problem with either flavor or texture--only my pride as a chef was wounded by the error. The ganache proved delicious, chocolatey and with just the right amount of heat. The drawback was how dense and heavy it was. Per my brother's suggestion, the next time I try this I will probably try to make the chocolate mixture into a mousse instead.)

Yeah...the chocolate seized on me. *sigh* Whatev, still tasted great.

 - Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until ganache is cooled, at least 30 minutes and up to three days.

For the Topping:
1 pint fresh raspberries, carefully rinsed and dried
zest from one fresh lime
juice from 1/2 fresh lime
2 -3 Tablespoons of sour cream
cream or milk to taste

 - Arrange your raspberries in a pretty pattern over the chocolate mixture. Combine remaining ingredients in a bowl and mix thoroughly, until the consistency of thick but pourable cream. Drizzle the creme over the berries, and refrigerate until ready to serve. (I made my creme a little too thick, so instead of a fashionable drizzle, I got plops. Flavorwise, however, it was a success: it added an edge of zesty tartness, and offset the heat of the jalapeño nicely.)

A proper drizzle would be prettier, but the flavor is great no matter what! A few curls of lime zest or some mint leaves would also be a pretty accompaniment.

      This should stay good in a fridge for at least two days. I like dark chocolate at the end of a big meal because it relaxes the stomach lining and aids in digestion (that's all fact, I'm not making it up) but since this tart is a bit heavy I suggest serving it in thin slices. Personally, I think it would make a great finale to an early dinner of grilled chicken and some southwest-inspired sides. It can be made ahead, it really doesn't take too long to make, and it's quite pretty (or at least it will be if you get the creme drizzle right). It's also different and I'm willing to bet nobody's seen a blue corn chip crust before, so you'll get points for creativity, too! So give it a shot...and give me some ideas for a name, while you're at it!

     My friend and soon-to-be-published novelist Camela participated in a blog hop about writing the other day, and I found her answers to be very interesting! We've been friends for many years, and yet I still learned a couple new things about her. I love that people are like that, especially good friends and awesome people in general: there's always new awesomeness to be discovered! So I decided to answer the same questions.

Where do you like to write?

My options in that regard are pretty limited. The apartment has around 550 square feet, and there is no desk, so I'm usually on the couch with my feet on the coffee table, my laptop balanced on a cushion. But on the rare occasion I have time and a bit o' spending cash, I really prefer to write in a good coffee shop. A pastry and an accompanying beverage, a chair and a table, and just the right amount of bustle about me are pleasing to my Muse.

Which part of researching your current novel was most interesting?

I freaking love doing research for my novels, and my current project has merited quite a bit! The most interesting part has been finding old scandals from the 1860's: financial schemes, political backstabbing, and the like. If you're willing to spice up your fiction with some fact, history has all the villains and plot twists you will ever need!

How important to you are names in your books? How do you choose them?

Names are hugely important to me. I like them to have a hint of symbolism at best, and at the least I want them to have a mouthfeel that suggests a certain vibe. I wrote a little about this in my post The Running List, and it continues to stand true. Also, I confess that I sneak in tributes to real people I have known - both friend and foe - but always in such a way that nobody could figure it out if I didn't tell them. It just gives me a feeling of satisfaction.

Do you read your own reviews? Do you respond to the bad?

Seeing as how I have yet to publish anything, I haven't had to deal with that question as yet. If and when I do get published, I expect I will probably read all the reviews of my first couple books with an obsessive and possibly unhealthy vigor. If I am extra fortunate and publish multiple works, this may wear off. As to responding...I have no idea. If I do, it won't be without several revisions and multiple nights sleeping on it, so as to provide multiple layers of filter.

What are your favorite books to give as gifts?

The ones that people ask for. Some of my favorite books are ones I've received as gifts. Likewise, some of my least favorite. I will suggest books to people if I honestly think they will enjoy them, but when it comes to purchasing books for another person, I stick to what they know they want.

      Lately, the sun hasn't been sleeping well. It's groggy, and doesn't want to roll out of bed when it's supposed to. So it drags a sheet of ragged cloud across the horizon and blearily peeks its pink face through from time to time. This means the first couple hours of morning are hazy, the light a diffuse shade of real strawberry lemonade, full of the lazy sounds of crickets. It's the kind of morning for wetting your fingertips on the condensation around your iced coffee, both you and the sun working up to a day of brightness.

      I am not a southerner - in fact I've only visited the Deep South twice, and briefly both times - but something about a hot, humid summer day makes me crave southern food. Visions of pan fried chicken, collard greens, and hot buttermilk biscuits dripping with butter and honey pop into my head, egged on by the sound of cicadas outside my window. And the next thing I know, I'm sweating over a stove instead of dining on cool, crisp salad like a sane person. *sigh* My stomach rules me.
     I wish I had my own recipe for fried chicken to share with you, but the truth is, Alton Brown's Pan Fried Chicken is the most delicious thing that could happen to that barnyard bird, and I'm smart enough not to mess with perfection. Follow the directions exactly and you'll be up convinced heaven is something that comes on a plate. I also wish I had my own recipe for collard greens, but I'm still wrangling that one--when I get it down, you'll be the first to know. I suspect my friend Addi has one and I just need to wheedle it from her. What I DO have (and what I made for breakfast this morning) is a recipe for Buttermilk Biscuits. Now back in May I posted a recipe for herbed buttermilk biscuits, which accentuates things like fresh ramps, chives, rosemary or thyme really, really well. But if you just want a true, straight-up buttermilk biscuit I actually recommend this recipe instead.*
      Now as I stated earlier, I am not a southerner, which means I do not possess that secret they share among themselves down in Alabama, Georgia and the rest that enables them to create clouds in baked-good form. Desperately - and for years - I have searched for an answer: is it the flour? The humidity? Do they feed their cows differently in that part of the country!?! Whatever it is, I haven't got it quite perfect...but I've gotten pretty damn close. I started with a biscuit recipe from Dori Greenspan's "Baking" cookbook (that woman is pretty much the goddess of baked goods--her shortcake recipe is foolproof, I tell you, FOOLPROOF!), but it wasn't quite what I was looking for. Then I took in a few tips from Good Eats, in terms of ingredients and - just as important - the manipulation thereof. The result is my recipe below. And if you have a better one (hint hint, every person in Mississippi), please send it my way.

Z.D.'s Pure Buttermilk Biscuits

1 & 1/2 Cup all-purpose flour
1/2 Cup cake flour + more for dusting
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 Tablespoons shortening, frozen & cut into bits
3 Tablespoons cold unsalted butter, diced
1 Cup cold buttermilk

 - Preheat your oven to 450º F, and line a baking sheet with parchment or silicone.

 - Whisk together your dry ingredients. Why the two different flours? A.B. swears the 3:1 ratio is as good as biscuit flour (something that supposedly is available in the south, but I was unable to find in two different grocery stores in Louisiana--maybe they hide it from Yankees). Also, be sure that your baking soda & powder are not too old. Ideally, you shouldn't ever have any older than six months, but unless you bake a lot that's unlikely. If you want fluffy biscuits, however, your leavening has got to be up to snuff. Make sure you keep a generous half cup of cake flour for dusting your surface and also for dipping your biscuit cutter!

 - Cut in the fats using your fingertips. Yes, use your fingertips. If your hands are hot, run them under cold water for a minute, then dry quickly and get started. You want a pebbly mixture when you're done, with fat-&-flour-bits ranging in size from oat flakes to sand grains to lentils.


 - Gently toss in the buttermilk until just barely combined. Turn out the dough onto a (cake) floured surface, dust with cake flour, and fold four times. As I mentioned in my last biscuit post, this does seem counter-intuitive: every good biscuit baker knows if you handle the dough too much, it becomes tough! But A.B. learned this technique from his grandma, and frankly, it works.


 - Pat the dough to about a one inch thickness. Using a metal biscuit cutter (they really do work best) cut straight down, then give a small twist as you remove the cutter. Again, I don't know why, but it works really well. Once you've cut as many biscuits as you can, gather the scraps and quickly and gently work them back together into another inch-thick pat of dough, then resume cutting. Continue until all dough is used.

See that one in the uppermost right? That's the last biscuit, molded from the scraps rather than shaped with a biscuit cutter. Watch how it comes out.

 - Place your biscuits on your prepared baking sheet, almost touching but not quite. See, the leavening will make the biscuits rise in all directions, so if they're close together most of the rising will be upward, making taller, fluffier biscuits. I put my biscuits in a honeycomb pattern to maximize proximity.

Behold the mutant biscuit in the upper corner!

 - Bake until just golden brown, about 16 to 18 minutes. Let cool on pan for a minute or two, then serve nice and warm, with plenty of butter, honey, and whatever else you like to slather on those puppies. I like to put a fried egg n one of mine and let the biscuit catch the yolky-goodness.

There's the mutant biscuit again. I tell myself nobody else will want it because it's weirdly shaped--more yum for me!

*Yeah, only somebody ruled by her stomach actually bothers with coming up with TWO freakin' recipes for buttermilk biscuits. You have my permission to mock me. But you probably won't, once you taste the biscuits.


P.S. - Just in case you're wondering what's going on in writer land: since deciding my current project needs to be more than one book, I've stopped working on the story and resumed tweaking the outline. I have a feeling this may take a few days. So the ambitious goal of actually finishing the whole first draft by today was - as I suspected - a pipe dream. No new clothes for me.
      But who needs clothes when I have fresh biscuits?!

      So how am I doing on my week of intensive novel-writing? Well, have you ever been so head-bashingly frustrated that you get exhausted even though you haven't done all that much? Yeah. I kind of want to flop onto my bed with limbs outstretched and stare at the ceiling for a few hours.
      I am making progress, don't get me wrong. But as I work my way through this middle part of the story, it's becoming clear to me that this story needs to be two, possibly three books. Which is surprising because usually I write stand-alone novels. The only book series longer than a trilogy I have willingly read in the last decade was Harry Potter, otherwise I simply get too frustrated waiting for books to come out, or bored, or start to feel like the author is just milking an old idea instead of doing something new. Yes, I realize there are some excellent longer series out there, and I am probably missing out, but hey: that's what retirement is for. Anyway, the point is the idea that my story might be better served as multiple books is not only a surprise, it's kind of alarming; this means I will have to go back and rework what I already have pretty thoroughly.
      I am coming to terms with the idea that I am nowhere near finishing this thing, even if I get a first draft done by the end of the week. That's what mentally exhausts me.
      So despite my oath to avoid distraction at all costs, I did what any reasonable person who happens to be me would do: I decided to bake.
     My husband has been in want of a hand-held energy-boosting goodie that he can take with him for long days with short lunch breaks. There are plenty of granola bars, energy bars, and raw bars on the market that he likes, but for something so small I find them over-priced. Plus, I really resent the ones that promise to be full of nuts and oats and then turn out to be over 50% puffed rice. I have made granola bars and protein bars from scratch myself, but this time I wanted something a little more comforting, and a little more emotionally energizing: an Inspiration Cookie.
      I've actually been thinking about this for awhile in the vein of a breakfast cookie, but hey, breakfast should be inspiring, right? So I took a recipe that called for lots of dried fruit and replaced it with crystalized ginger (for zing) and chocolate (because according to my husband, the entire point of a cookie is to eat chocolate chips). I also played around with flours, spices and sweeteners more to my liking, and here is the result:

Z.D.'s Inspiration Cookie*

1 stick unsalted butter, softened
1/4 Cup white sugar
1/4 Cup brown sugar
1/4 Cup raw honey
2 teaspoons molasses
3/4 Cup all-purpose flour
3/4 Cup spelt flour
1 teaspoon sea salt (yes, sea salt: it has lotsa minerals)
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
1 Cup cooked quinoa, cooled
1 Cup old fashioned rolled oats
1/2 Cup finely chopped crystalized ginger
1/2 Cup chopped raw almonds
1/2 Cup dark chocolate chunks (eschew wasting money on chocolate chips: chunk your own chocolate & you will save pennies & consume higher quality chocolate into the bargain)

 - Pre-heat oven to 375º F, and line two baking sheets with parchment paper (or, if you've got 'em, silicone baking mats).

 - Using a stand mixer, beat butter, sugars, honey & molasses until fluffy, about 3 minutes. Meanwhile, in a medium bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients.

 - Add the eggs & extracts to the butter mixture, and beat on high speed until fluffy again, about 2 minutes more. Turn mixer down to medium speed and slowly add in the flour mixture until combined.




 - Stir in remaining ingredients by hand until thoroughly mixed. Spoon onto prepared baking sheets and bake for 15-16 minutes, until just browning on top (if you put multiple baking sheets in at once, swap them halfway through baking and add one minute to total bake time). Allow to cool on pan for at least five minutes, then remove to a cooling rack.

You can make these cookies any size, but I used a 4oz disher to make big blobs, and then sort of patted the dough into a bar-shape for easier eating and adding to the healthy associations.

      These are cakey cookies, which means they're less likely to cover you with crumbs when you munch them. Store in a tin or cookie jar and they will keep for a few days, or you can wrap them individually in plastic wrap and freeze them for up to a month. They're lovely with an iced coffee on a summer morning when it's too hot to cook.

As you can see, these cookies spread, making them less "bar-like" and more "oval-esque," but it still makes for easier eating. Yes, I made these huge--they are tasty and one will satisfy as well as a light meal!

*Also known as "Ginger's We're-Already-Running-Late-You-Can-Eat-Breakfast-In-The-Car Cookie," inspired by one of the characters in Shotgun Shuffle.

      So: what does a writer read?
      You may have noticed that I keep a regular page where I talk about the books I'm reading (it's on the left hand sidebar). My tastes are pretty eclectic, everything from commercial fiction to classics, non-fiction to kids' books. Lately I've been reading more non-fiction and classics, partly because they're good and - to be honest - partly to off-balance my other interests, which tend to be less sophisticated.
      To use a food analogy (because what other analogy would I ever bother to use), I am a woman who enjoys a 2008 Terra Blanca Cabernet Savingon paired with a cheese plate of Humboldt Fog, Rogue River Blue, and real Spanish Manchego...but every now and again I crave a root beer and a bag of "Cheetos." So in what are my literary vices? To be frank, I am a fiend for online comics.
      Which isn't to say an online comic can't be sophisticated. Some have simply marvelous artwork (everything from the monochrome Run Freak Run and to the culturally elaborate A Redtail's Dream), some are rich with literary influence (like the dark and whimsical Namesake), and some are socially and politically thought-provoking (consider the beautifully rendered Prince of Cats, or the visually eloquent comics of Colleen Clark). Then there are some I read because I'm hooked on the story, like Supernormal Step, Olympus Overdrive, Ava's Demon, and Toilet Genie (weird name, amazing comic). And finally there are those that simply crack me up, like Hubris, Skull Kickers, The Hero Business, and Axe Cop (best sibling collaboration EVER). These are some of my favorite comics*, and I like to ignore them for a few months and then binge on all the updates over an hour or two. It's one of my favorite things the interwebs has to offer!
      There are also comics I read every day they update. Daily, there is Sinfest: the first online comic I ever read, I have been devotee since 2001, and I've followed it with enthusiasm as it morphed from a Dudebro chuckle-fest to a passionate statement about women's rights (Tat, you are one of my heroes). I also read Sandra and Woo because I find it silly and witty, plus it updates on Thursdays (here's a hint to you online comic writers: try to update on off-days, because that's when readers get bored). My other regular read is Shotgun Shuffle, which I found amusing at first, then increasingly funny, and then made me into an undying fan with this mash-up of Forrest Gump and Star Wars. I mean seriously? GENIUS. I know people who have sold their soul for that level of creativity, and what they got out of the bargain doesn't come close.
      So why do I call these my "vices?" I mean, online comics are a far cry from, say, tobacco, or gambling with my life savings. But here's what they have in common: distraction. Once I decide to dip in and start reading a backlog of a good online comic, say goodbye to anything else on my list that doesn't require immediate doing, because it ain't gonna happen. I have had library books go overdue because I didn't finish them on time - library books I liked - because I was reading an online comic. I've snuck them into the loo for uninterrupted reading. And yes, I have read them at work while I was on the phone with clients...but only when the clients weren't saying anything important, I promise! 
      Other vices include cooking magazines, Indian food lunch buffets, and anime.**
      I suppose there are far worse vices one could have on the spectrum of things, but really it's not the activity, it's the fallout. My life requires strict regulation to resist falling into the bottomless pit of online comic reading. Take today, for example: I wrote about thirty pages on my novel, and then...then...Saint for Rent. *sigh* But what a great premise!
      So what are come of YOUR vices? And which ones should I try?


*I actually read, like, twice this many, but listing them all would make me feel like too much of a directory.

**No, I'm not going to tell you which ones! I can't have you losing all respect for me before I even get a short story published!