Sunday, September 1, 2013

Wonton Making! Peasant Food!

The wonton was a food for peasants, who did not have much meat on hand, in both China and Taiwan. With wontons, you can make a lot with just a little. Each wonton has but a dollop of meat filling consisting of pork, shrimp and spices. With a small bowl of filling and a large stack of wonton wraps, you can feed a crowd. 

Here is how to make them. Our demonstration begins with the Expert Wonton Maker...

 1: Make the wonton filling (mix up ground pork, ginger, pepper oil, and soy sauce).
We added chopped shrimp to ours for extra flavor.

2: Place a wonton wrap on a flat surface. 

3: Use your finger to dampen the edges of the wrap with water. 

4: Spread the filling in the middle of the wonton wrap and roll up the wonton diagonally.

5: Pinch the opposite corners together.

6: Get friends and family to help.

7: Carefully place the wontons in a pot of boiling water. 

(When they float, cook for two more minutes.)

8: Take them out of the boiling water.

9: Add stuff of your choice. We put our in a bowl of noodles, broccoli and broth.


A perfect snack.

This is wonton written in Mandarin.

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Nutmeg Seed Pod

Fresh nutmeg wrapped in its protective pod.

 Here is the tree 

in the back garden.

Here is the sister who has plucked it.

Still Life with Coconut

Fresh coconut.

Finely ground.

Fire, griddle, coconut milk, expert cook.

A perfect morning in Kerala.

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Hermit Crab

If I were a hermit crab, 

In a shallow rock-pool

I'd be contented as can be. 

This; distance from the sea.

Everything else, would be. 
Superfluous to me…

There'd be no reefs—See
Either above or below me...

I could be that great-White. 

Abiding without; inherit fear!
I'd maroon portions of time,
No one else could near.

Solitude would be mine. 

But oh so lovingly my dear...
I'd call this heavenly coastline!
Ours; and heavenly …I'd steer.
(Mark Heathcote)

Sunday, June 30, 2013

A Shell that Sang

maggie and milly and molly and may, by e. e. cummings

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

for whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

A song.

Saturday, June 29, 2013

Sailing to the Lighthouse at Cape Lookout

We set off one fine early morning with four fellow boats from Wilmington, North Carolina for a day's sail to the lighthouse at Cape Lookout.

Looking Northeast at Dawn

What had promised to be a day of manageable wind and low seas turned into a day of high winds and high seas. The ride was rough and I turned my camera off until near the end of a fifteen-hour cruise.

Waves and Sea Salt

Here is a little bit of sailing with the genoa down and the main reefed two times...

The sight of the red entrance buoy was a welcoming sign at the end of the day.

Arrival at Cape Lookout Anchorage

Pulling in the Sails

We settled into the quiet harbor near the lighthouse for the night. 

The Anchorage at Cape Lookout

Several loggerhead sea turtles turned up to welcome us and stare curiously while we put down our anchor and tied down the sails. I tried to photograph them but they dipped below the water each time I raised my camera to my eye.

To the Lighthouse

Losing personality, one lost the fret, the hurry, the stir; and there rose to her lips always some exclamation of triumph over life when things came together in this peace, this rest, this eternity; and pausing there she looked out to meet that stroke of the Lighthouse, the long steady stroke, the last of the three, which was her stroke, for watching them in this mood always at this hour one could not help attaching oneself to one thing especially of the things one saw; and this thing, the long steady stroke, was her stroke.   - from To the Lighthouse, by Virginia Wolf, chapter 11, paragraph 1.

Cape Fear Summer

Narrow barrier islands and sandy beaches, shallow waters and ocean inlets; salt marshes hugging the bay and maritime forests shaped by wind, sand, and salt...this is summer along the Cape Fear coast.

Dunes at Early Morning

The day is brisk
The air is sweet
The miles they pass
Beneath my feet
Slipper shells
And Angel wings
In an empty whelk
The ocean sings.

- Russell F. Flynn Jr.