Curmudgeon

Grandpa seemed to have the richest vocabulary in all the world. His love of words added a richness to his conversations and he created the world's best puns. He talked about places with sylvan glades and fruits called kumquats and referred to himself as an old curmudgeon. I believe the word 'curmudgeon' is in need of saving and it was brought to mind when I was at market. There was an old man with a green apron selling potatoes. His body reminded me of a big bean. Two teens walking lightly in white sneakers filed by his stand holding cans of coke. He yelled, "Coca Cola is not good! Coca Cola is not good!" I had some pieces of candied ginger in my pocket and I offered him one after he talked a long while to me about his 500 acres of land and his asparagus/potato farm. He'd never tried ginger before and he asked me what it was and I told him it was a root. Someone corrected me: no, it's a rhizome. (I still think its a root.) Somehow the conversation turned to Nepal and the old man didn't know where that country was and he complained about his plastic bags being too chintzy for the price he paid. When he opened the sliding door of his white van there was a tumble down pile of small waxy potatoes, dusty red potatoes, and buttery oblong potatoes in blue mesh bags. He told me that happily potatoes store up for one year. I watched him break the steady stream of customers to waddle over to the pastry shop and come back with a huge profiterole with chocolate icing in his mouth. The people just kept lining up to buy his potatoes. Was it because he'd been selling potatoes (and asparagus in spring) for thirty years? Or was it that twinkle in his eye? He brought to mind the word curmudgeon, a word on it's way out and which officially means: a bad-tempered, difficult, cantankerous person.

Lip-smacking Lardlet Lunacy

Greetings my dear friends and faithful readers; I am oh so excited about this month’s Culinary Q & A because I received a question that brought back a delicious little nugget of goodness back into the forefront of my mind. I've abandoned my usual three question format in order to focus solely on what I believe has been a forgotten ingredient in many a kitchen. With the winter months just around the corner, I have been turning my attention to warm rich comfort foods more and more. Apparently, so has reader Hans, who wrote:

Q: Geir, I love a good pot roast, but no matter how hard I try, the meat always turns out dry and bland. What can I do to keep the roast moist, juicy and succulent?

A: Thanks for the question Hans. Now, the first thing to remember about pot roast; the meat must not be prepared in a speustic fashion. It takes time and great care to cook a moist succulent pot roast. So, if your thinking you can throw a roast in the oven at high heat and it will be perfectly cooked in thirty minutes; well, you should probably think about having something else for dinner. But any culinary advice columnist could tell you to cook the pot roast low and slow and move on to the next question; but this HomeLife magazine, and I'm Geir Ragnar, and I know you've come to expect more from us.

The answer in preparing pot roast perfection lies in a luscious little morsel of pork fat goodness called a lardlet. Now, those of us who have ever popped open a can of baked beans or pork and beans have seen lardlets floating around in the sauce; but few have actually seen or used them in other applications. The pot roast, my friend, is another is another dish that benefits greatly by the use of the lardlet.

For those who may not know, a lardlet is a small piece of bacon that is put into a dish to enrich it with fat. As we all know, fat equals flavor, but the lardlet also enhances the pot roast by keeping it moist and providing it with just a hint of smokiness. The end result will provide your meat with a depth of flavor and richness few have had the pleasure of experiencing in a pot roast.

"Ask Mister Blister!"

They say the legend began there, in the village near the Blue Sea, when two sisters, who had they been any closer in age would have been twins, dawdled a little too long as they walked home from school. The girls loved to peer into shop windows and examine wildflowers during their daily trek home, but on this eventful day, twilight came suddenly. Having left the lane to rest under an ancient aspen while savoring pocket-sweets, they became Two Lost Girls in a matter of moments as last light was leaving the sky. Using the hand signals they developed as a secret language all their own, they discussed whether to go left or right once they found the lane again. Bewilderment entwined and bound them like fast-growing ivy. In the quickened evening nothing looked familiar!

At that moment, a youth appeared before them, wearing tattered cuff of shirt and pants, yet a most natty orange and white striped vest. He studied their finger signs intently. The girls took notice of him as well, from his chestnut curls, to his warm smile, to his broken boots, mostly useless. He held out his walking stick to the girls who each put one hand on it. At once they became Unlost as the tip of the stick began to softly glow as though lit from within, blinking intermittently like a firefly.

Reaching the doorstep of their home, the girls rushed inside to tell their parents about their young guide.

“How did you ever find your way home?” asked their Father.

“Ask Mister Blister!” answered the girls. "Ask Mister Blister!"

“Invite him in!” urged their Mother, shooing them back toward the door. “He must have tea before he goes. There is a chill in the air!”

But he was already a far piece down the lane, a bit of bright orange fabric and the glow of the walking stick was all they could see.

And so the legend continued as children ‘round the world took comfort in finding their way home, with the help of a certain curly-headed wayshower and his curious walking stick, when a fog settled unexpectedly or strong winds blew the leaves or dust into a frenzy. Mother and Father would always, without a doubt, inquire, “How did you ever find your way home?” And the answer would always seem to be “Ask Mister Blister!”

Or is that what the children were saying after all? When the original illuminated "Ask Mister Blister!" manuscript was found and translated properly, a revelation took place. What the Two Lost Girls and all the others 'round the world were saying right along was "Ask Blessed Master!"