Let me just start by saying even Gary, my husband, likes this recipe. I’ve made Fish Florentine since we were newlyweds, and that was a long time ago! Here is the quick and easy recipe, which works for keto menus, using sole or orange roughy. Fish Florentine 4 fillets of sole or orange roughy (up to 1/3 pound each)2 Tbsp. olive oil1/4 – 1/2 cup chopped onion1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheeseSalt and pepper to taste10 oz. frozen spinach (defrost, then…
When I pulled out this month’s volume by Graham Greene, I nearly put it back. Weeks before this highly contentious federal election, did I really need to read The Ministry of Fear? Well, at least it was a book of fiction. The other three September books were non-fiction, and just as scary. Week 1: Disloyal by Michael Cohen When news hit that Donald Trump’s former personal lawyer was working on a memoir, I wondered how deep the confession would go….
As a young girl, Mom had a pen pal, her Aunt Margaret Regan. Known to non-family members as Sister Amabilis, she was only 16 when she entered religious life. It was September 1943 and Mom was 13 when she wrote this to her aunt, who wasn’t permitted to visit her family very often. It was September 1943; her older second-cousin Eddie was on furlough from the Army during World War II. Eddie wrote on the back of the photo, “Quit…
Dad – who is this? Do you recognize her? We were going through old black-and-white photos yet again. Dad‘s voice softened, “Oh yes, that’s my Aunt Alice. She was so soft and cuddly. A good hugger.” Alice Plante was one of my paternal grandma‘s younger sisters. Ten years younger, to be exact. As I ticked off the names of the nine Plante siblings from our Ancestry family tree, Dad did the math. What an accomplishment for his grandma; she kept…
YOU! Close the door and lock it. Class begins on time. No latecomers! It was the first day of class. My final college class. And the professor was a madman. A MAD man, actually. Fred Brewer eventually told us he was a former editor of MAD Magazine, the irreverent comic-book-style periodical. He’d served as editor of the British edition. But this was Indiana University in June of 1980, my senior year. All I had left before leaving campus was one…
Today is the last day of summer. The temperatures have already cooled and the fields are ready for harvest. My darling tomato-picker has been busy all summer: Cameron wasn’t sure he’d like the taste of a grape tomato, but sampled a few each time he visited us this summer. He’s still not sure. When Gary and I went to spend some time with Dad in Connecticut earlier this month (quarantining all the while, as per the Nutmeg State‘s Covid rules),…
“Jelly” is an occasional topic of conversation in our household. It seems Gary was traumatized as a child by all the plum jelly he was forced to consume. Growing up on a farm, with parents who remembered The Great Depression like it was yesterday, Gary knew better than to complain. So he dutifully ate plum jelly on a slice of bread (he calls it “jelly bread,” which I’ve always found confusing) when it was served to him as a kid….
With apologies to Saint Patrick and every last Irish ancestor who came before me, let me just say that cauliflower is a great substitution for potatoes. Whether you’re looking for a keto recipe or simply something different, this Fauxtato Salad comes highly recommended. (Reminder, the French word “faux,” meaning “false,” is pronounced “foh.”) Simply take your favorite potato salad recipe and convert it. Fauxtato Salad (keto recipe) 1 head fresh cauliflower, steamed6-8 eggs, hard-boiled, peeled, sliced/chopped1 cup mayonnaise2-4 Tablespoons of…
My great-aunt May Regan was a wonderful woman. She was kind and fun and caring. A good cook, too. May was also Mom’s godmother. May grew up on Lombard Street in Fair Haven. In later years, May lived with her brother Pip; together they were like a bonus set of grandparents to us. On June 12, 1989, Mom presented the eulogy she wrote about her godmother May at her funeral. Here it is: In Praise of May She was our…
As a kid, it ticked me off that certain things were “boys only.” For example, my dad took my brothers bowling. But not me. “I’ll take you bowling on your wedding day,” Dad promised. I reminded him of that oft-spoken vow on Gary’s and my big day in 1982, but didn’t hold my father to it. It was the mid-1960s, and my older brothers were donning the special robes, lighting the candles, ringing the chimes, and burning the incense. My…