Cane Sugar Quotes

You can be up to your boobies in white satin, with gardenias in your hair and no sugar cane for miles, but you can still be working on a plantation.

I will remember what I was, I am sick of rope and chains - I will remember my old strength and all my forest affairs. I will not sell my back to man for a bundle of sugar cane; I will go out to my own kind, and the wood-folk in their lairs. I will go out until the day, until the morning break - Out to the wind's untainted kiss, the water's clean caress; I will forget my ankle-ring and snap my picket stake. I will revisit my lost love and playmates masterless!

But carbon 13 [the carbon from corn] doesn't lie, and researchers who have compared the isotopes in the flesh or hair of Americans to those in the same tissues of Mexicans report that it is now we in the North who are the true people of corn.... Compared to us, Mexicans today consume a far more varied carbon diet: the animals they eat still eat grass (until recently, Mexicans regarded feeding corn to livestock as a sacrilege); much of their protein comes from legumes; and they still sweeten their beverages with cane sugar. So that's us: processed corn, walking.

Cotton rows crisscross the world And dead-tired nights of yearning Thunderbolts on leather strops And all my body burning Sugar cane reach up to God And every baby crying Shame a blanket of my night And all my days are dying

CARL SAGAN SAID that if you want to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe. When he says “from scratch,” he means from nothing. He means from a time before the world even existed. If you want to make an apple pie from nothing at all, you have to start with the Big Bang and expanding universes, neutrons, ions, atoms, black holes, suns, moons, ocean tides, the Milky Way, Earth, evolution, dinosaurs, extinction- level events, platypuses, Homo erectus, Cro- Magnon man, etc. You have to start at the beginning. You must invent fire. You need water and fertile soil and seeds. You need cows and people to milk them and more people to churn that milk into butter. You need wheat and sugar cane and apple trees. You need chemistry and biology. For a really good apple pie, you need the arts. For an apple pie that can last for generations, you need the printing press and the Industrial Revolution and maybe even a poem.To make a thing as simple as an apple pie, you have to create the whole wide world.

There is honey in this land sweeter than any I know of, and I have cut cane in places where the dirt itself tasted like sugar, so that's saying a heap.

Don't you know sugar is brown first? White folks couldn't stand the fact that something so sweet shared the same color as the people who cut the cane, slopped the hogs and picked the cotton. So they bleached it to resemble them, and now they done gone and fooled everybody. You included.

The boys on the island vary, of course, in numbers, according as they get killed and so on; and when they seem to be growing up, which is against the rules, Peter thins them out; but at this time there were six of them, counting the twins as two. Let us pretend to lie here among the sugar-cane and watch them as they steal by in single file, each with his hand on his dagger.

In China we say, "You can't expect both ends of a sugar cane are as sweet." Sometimes love can be ugly. But one still has to take it and swallow it.

Through the discovery of Buchner, Biology was relieved of another fragment of mysticism. The splitting up of sugar into CO2 and alcohol is no more the effect of a 'vital principle' than the splitting up of cane sugar by invertase. The history of this problem is instructive, as it warns us against considering problems as beyond our reach because they have not yet found their solution.

Sugar cane reach up to God And every baby crying Shame the blanket of my night And all my days are dying

On Sundays when she had extra time, she’d steam milk for froth, or brew the grounds with cane sugar and cinnamon for café de olla.

. . . every society that grows extensive lawns could produce all its food on the same area, using the same resources, and . . . world famine could be totally relieved if we devoted the same resources of lawn culture to food culture in poor areas. These facts are before us. Thus, we can look at lawns, like double garages and large guard dogs, [and Humvees and SUVs] as a badge of willful waste, conspicuous consumption, and lack of care for the earth or its people. Most lawns are purely cosmetic in function. Thus, affluent societies have, all unnoticed, developed an agriculture which produces a polluted waste product, in the presence of famine and erosion elsewhere, and the threat of water shortages at home. The lawn has become the curse of modern town landscapes as sugar cane is the curse of the lowland coastal tropics, and cattle the curse of the semi-arid and arid rangelands. It is past time to tax lawns (or any wasteful consumption), and to devote that tax to third world relief. I would suggest a tax of $5 per square metre for both public and private lawns, updated annually, until all but useful lawns are eliminated.

You can be up to your boobies in white satin, with gardenias in your hair and no sugar cane for miles, but you can still be working on a plantation

But, don't care how firm your determination is, you can't keep turning round in one place like a horse grinding sugar cane.

Wylan sat forward like a schoolboy eager to prove he had the answers. He drew a vial from his pocket. “This version works.” “It’s a weevil?” Inej asked, examining it. “A chemical weevil,” said Jesper. “But Wylan still hasn’t named it. My vote is for the Wyvil.” “That’s terrible,” said Wylan. “It’s brilliant.” Jesper winked. “Just like you.” Wylan blushed daylily pink. “I helped as well,” added Kuwei, looking sulky. “He did help,” Wylan said. “We’ll make him a plaque,” said Kaz. “Tell them how it works. Wylan cleared his throat. “I got the idea from cane blight—just a little bit of bacteria can ruin a whole crop. Once the weevil is dropped into the silo, it will keep burrowing down, using the refined sugar as fuel until the sugar is nothing but useless mush.” “It reacts to sugar?” asked Jesper. “Yes, any kind of sugar. Even trace amounts if there’s enough moisture present, so keep it away from sweat, blood, saliva.” “Do not lick Wyvil. Does someone want to write that down?

Henry was diabetic,” continued Whiskey Jack. “It happens. Too much. You people came to America, you take our sugar cane, potatoes, and corn, then you sell us potato chips and caramel popcorn, and we’re the ones who get sick.

As they came out from the shelter of the trees and the Great Meadows stretched out before them, Kit caught her breath. She had not expected anything like this. From that first moment, in a way she could never explain, the Meadows claimed her and made her their own. As far as she could see they stretched on either side, a great level sea of green, broken here and there by a solitary graceful elm. Was it the fields of sugar cane they brought to mind, or the endless reach of the ocean to meet the sky? Or was it simply the sense of freedom and space and light that spoke to her of home?

When he spoke about US banks owning Puerto Ricans’ land, the US Navy controlling their borders, the US Congress writing their laws, and US companies paying them starvation wages in the sugar cane fields, everyone knew what he was talking about.

Not every dream grows on every land, so you got to watch out! “Sugar cane” dreams should find the environment where there is flooding of great ideas from great people. It will die off if it is planted at the place where the drought of discouragement is a well cherished culture!

Josey?” She heard her mother’s voice in the hall, then the thud of her cane as she came closer. “Please don’t tell her I’m here,” the woman in the closet said, with a strange sort of desperation. Despite the cold outside, she was wearing a cropped white shirt and tight dark blue jeans that sat low, revealing a tattoo of a broken heart on her hip. Her hair was bleached white-blond with about an inch of silver-sprinkled dark roots showing. Her mascara had run and there were black streaks on her cheeks. She looked drip-dried, like she’d been walking in the rain, though there hadn’t...

Take me to this land of sweet sugar cane and Mount Gay Rum, I want to taste its sweetness and feel its tropical sun, Take me to Barbados!

The grand army would soon be upon us, and war with all its attendant horrors.”24

sugar n. crystallized, evaporated cane juice

You people came to America, you take our sugar cane, potatoes, and corn, then you sell us potato chips and caramel popcorn, and we’re the ones who get sick.

Heal the past and you'll heal the present." Kharis Macey

You can be up to your boobies in white satin, with gardenias in your hair and no sugar cane for miles, but you can still be working on a plantation.

For those who turn their pain into power, their wounds into weapons. May your strength never falter. And remember, there are many uses for a candy cane. Merry Christmas!

The buggy is mine; that is, it was bought for me when I was born. It is made of wicker, rather unraveled, and the wheels wobble like a drunkard’s legs. But it is a faithful object; springtimes, we take it to the woods and fill it with flowers, herbs, wild fern for our porch pots; in the summer, we pile it with picnic paraphernalia and sugar-cane fishing poles and roll it down to the edge of a creek;

We distill ideas from something diffuse and hard to grasp into something precise. We distill knowledge to its essence the same way we distill fruit wine to brandy, beer to whisky, fermented sugar cane juice to rum.

It is 2009, and sugar consumption continues to increase globally. Sucrose is a toxin and has no nutritional value to the human body. Isn't that a little strange? Particularly, since sugar cane is grown upon thousands of acres of land to produce sucrose. Eight hundred and thirty million people in the world are undernourished, and 791 million of them live in so-called developing countries. Hence, what nourishing foods could these acres potentially grow if (a) sugar cane were no longer in high demand from the U.S. (as well as the rest of the top consumers--Brazil, Australia, and the EU) and (b) the land was used specifically to grow nourishing foods for the population in the global South?

. . . what seems to be an isolated patch of blue mist floats lightly on the glare of the horizon. This is the peninsula of Azuera, a wild chaos of sharp rocks and stony levels cut about by vertical ravines. It lies far out to sea like a rough head of stone stretched from a green-clad coast at the end of a slender neck of sand covered with thickets of thorny scrub. Utterly waterless, for the rainfall runs off at once on all sides into the sea, it has not soil enough—it is said—to grow a single blade of grass, as if it were blighted by a curse. The poor, associating by an obscure instinct of consolation the ideas of evil and wealth, will tell you that it is deadly because of its forbidden treasures. The common folk of the neighbourhood, peons of the estancias, vaqueros of the seaboard plains, tame Indians coming miles to market with a bundle of sugar-cane or a basket of maize worth about threepence, are well aware that heaps of shining gold lie in the gloom of the deep precipices cleaving the stony levels of Azuera. Tradition has it that many adventurers of olden time had perished in the search.

The Home” I paced alone on the road across the field while the sunset was hiding its last gold like a miser. The daylight sank deeper and deeper into the darkness, and the widowed land, whose harvest had been reaped, lay silent. Suddenly a boy’s shrill voice rose into the sky. He traversed the dark unseen, leaving the track of his song across the hush of the evening. His village home lay there at the end of the wasteland, beyond the sugar-cane field, hidden among the shadows of the banana and the slender areca palm, the coconut and the dark green jack-fruit trees. I stopped for a moment in my lonely way under the starlight, and saw spread before me the darkened earth surrounding with her arms countless homes furnished with cradles and beds, mothers’ hearts and evening lamps, and young lives glad with a gladness that knows nothing of its value for the world.

(W)e have spent many ages attempting to divine the principles that move our world. It goes without saying that the road ahead of us is still long, and there is more that we do not know than we do. Were you to compare our knowledge now to a spoonful of sugar, that which we do not know would be a field of sugar cane stretching as far as the eye can see... To obtain knowledge from that field, we must cut it and refine it. We must learn the most effective ways of harvesting and the methods of removing impurities. All this we must obtain as well as simply the knowledge we seek. That is what it means to study and learn.

working sugar was by far the most brutal work a slave could be assigned. Most died by the age of twenty-five from infections caused by the serrated leaves, snakebite from the venomous snakes lurking in the fields, and heat exhaustion from having to stir the cane down to syrup in vats heated underneath by flames

When we work at the sugar-canes, and the mill snatches hold of a finger, they cut off the hand; and when we attempt to run away, they cut off the leg; both cases have happened to me. This is the price at which you eat sugar in Europe. - XIX WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM AT SURINAM AND HOW CANDIDE GOT ACQUAINTED WITH MARTIN.

Sunday night is my personal weekly Halloween. I walk along slowly and drag my fingertips along the bars of chocolate. Goddamn, you sexy little squares. Dark, milk, white, I do not discriminate. I eat it all. Those fluorescent sour candies that only obnoxious little boys like. I suck candy apples clean. If an envelope seal is sweet, I’ll lick it twice. Growing up, I was that kid who would easily get lured into a van with the promise of a lollipop. Sometimes, I let the retail seduction last for twenty minutes, ignoring Marco and feeling up the merchandise, but I’m so tired of male voices. “Five bags of marshmallows,” Marco says in a resigned tone. “Wine. And a can of cat food.” “Cat food is low carb.” He makes no move to scan anything, so I scan each item myself and unroll a few notes from my tips. “Your job involves selling things. Sell them. Change, please.” “I just don’t know why you do this to yourself.” Marco looks at the register with a moral dilemma in his eyes. “Every week you come and do this.” He hesitates and looks over his shoulder where his sugar book sits under a layer of dust. He knows not to try to slip it into my bag with my purchases. “I don’t know why you care, dude. Just serve me. I don’t need your help.” He’s not entirely wrong about my being an addict. I would lick a line of icing sugar off this counter right now if no one were around. I would walk into a cane plantation and bite right in... “Give me my change or I swear to God …” I squeeze my eyes shut and try to tamp down my temper. “Just treat me like any other customer.” He gives me a few coins’ change and bags my sweet, spongy drugs.

However, growing cane and extracting its sugar was a labour-intensive business. Few people wanted to work long hours in malaria-infested sugar fields under a tropical sun. Contract labourers would have produced a commodity too expensive for mass consumption. Sensitive to market forces, and greedy for profits and economic growth, European plantation owners switched to slaves.

To an American Negro living in the northern part of the United States the word South has an unpleasant sound, an overtone of horror and of fear. For it is in the South that our ancestors were slaves for three hundred years, bought and sold like cattle. It is in the South today that we suffer the worst forms of racial persecution and economic exploitation--segregation, peonage, and lynching. It is in the Southern states that the color line is hard and fast, Jim Crow rules, and I am treated like a dog. Yet it is in the South that two-thirds of my people live: A great Black Belt stretching from Virginia to Texas, across the cotton plantations of Georgia and Alabama and Mississippi, down into the orange groves of Florida and the sugar cane lands of Louisiana. It is in the South that black hands create the wealth that supports the great cities--Atlanta, Memphis, New Orleans, where the rich whites live in fine houses on magnolia-shaded streets and the Negroes live in slums restricted by law. It is in the South that what the Americans call the "race problem" rears its ugly head the highest and, like a snake with its eyes on a bird, holds the whole land in its power. It is in the South that hate and terror walk the streets and roads by day, sometimes quiet, sometimes violent, and sleep n the beds with the citizens at night.

Sugar was a rarity in eighteenth century America. Even after cane plantations were planted in the Caribbean, it remained a luxury good beyond the reach of most Americans...It wasn't until late in the nineteenth century that sugar became plentiful and cheap enough to enter the lives of many Americans...; before then the sensation of sweetness in the lives of most people came chiefly from the flesh of fruit. And in America that usually meant the apple

Sugar producers in the European Union are subsidized even more than their peers in the United States, and the price of sugar in these countries is among the highest in the world. In 2009, The New York Times reported that sugar subsidies in the European Union were "so lavish that even Finland, a cold-climate country, began to produce more sugar," despite the fact that sugar extracted from cane grown in the tropics can be produced at a much lower cost than sugar extracted from beets grown in Europe.

On more than one occasion, Luz wondered if she was capable of stewarding their legacy into the future. A dream that had begun almost fifty years ago with Luz Alana’s mother, Clarise, and her grandfather Roberto Benzan. A distillery owned and operated not by the children of Spanish colonials but by a Black family. Where every pair of hands that worked to make the rum—from cutting the sugar cane to preparing the spirits for shipment—was entitled to a share of the profits. Caña Brava from its inception had been an experiment in what industry without exploitation could be, and it had thrived for decades.

Because he was not afraid until after it was all over, Grandfather said, because that was all it was to him -a spectacle, something to be watched because he might not have a chance to see such again, since his innocence still functioned and he not only did not know what fear was until afterward, he did not even know that at first he was not terrified; did not even know that he had found the place where money was to be had quick if you were courageous and shrewd but where high mortality was concomitant with the money and the sheen on the dollars was not from gold but from blood -a spot of earth which might have been created and set aside by Heaven itself, Grandfather said, as a theatre for violence and injustice and bloodshed and all the satanic lusts of human greed and cruelty, for the last despairing fury of all the pariah-interdict and all the doomed -a little island set in a smiling and fury lurked and incredible indigo sea, which was the halfway point between what we call the jungle and what we call civilization, halfway between the dark inscrutable continent from which the black blood, the black bones and flesh and thinking and remembering and hopes and desires, was ravished by violence, and the cold known land to which it was doomed, the civilised land and people which had expelled some of its own blood and thinking and desires that had become too crass to be faced and borne longer, and set it homeless and desperate on the lonely ocean -a little lost island in a latitude which would require ten thousand years of equatorial heritage to bear its climate, a soil manured with black blood from two hundred years of oppression and exploitation until it sprang with an incredible paradox of peaceful greenery and crimson flowers and sugar cane sapling size and three times the height of a man and a little bulkier of course but valuable pound for pound almost with silver ore, as if nature held a balance and kept a book and offered recompense for the torn limbs and outraged hearts even if man did not, the planting of nature and man too watered not only by the wasted blood but breathed over by the winds in which the doomed ships had fled in vain, out of which the last tatter of sail had sunk into the blue sea, along which the last vain despairing cry of woman or child had blown away; - the planting of men too: the yet intact bones and brains in which the old unsleeping blood that had vanished into the earth they trod still cried out for vengeance. 

Why do I know this song?” I ask him. His voice is low, like a whisper of a rumble. “It was the first song we danced to at the gala. An instrumental version of Wildest Dreams.” “You remembered that?” “Kelsey,” he says softly, “I remember everything that involves you. Everything. From what you wore the very first day I met you—a blue turtleneck dress—to the way you smelled when we shared an elevator for the first time—like vanilla and brown sugar—to the way you tasted the first time I had a chance to be intimate with you—like a fucking sunset on a rainy day. This song . . . it was engrained in my brain, and I just hoped that I’d get a chance to play it for you again one day.

I'm living in a horror movie, all right. Only the horror doesn't have anything to do with necrophilia or black masses or crosses hung upside down, or with vampires who can't swim or zombies who work in sugar cane fields and can't stop shambling off cliffs when some guy with a jawbreaker accent says so, No, this is real life. It was running out all around him. the footprints of assassins and neo-fascists and government officials with secret closets full of tutus, private armies training in ships named after the wives of oilmen, of drunken presidents in bed with the mob and the cartels that slice up the world and stick FOR SALE signs on the pieces; while the real kings of earth lie moldering in their graves, their brains stolen away in the night and their bullet wounds altered to match storybook plots that would be laughed out of any preschool classroom. And all this while the billions sweat and grow old like the living dead, their lifeblood sucked dry by the takers of souls who need our labor to feed a hunger for power without end. The undead? What a cheapjack explanation for so much misery. There is more than enough to account for it all without falling back on the unnameable. It's already here. The trick is to see it and not flinch- there's no future in denial. It's as simple, and as enormous, as that. The truth, however bleak, was almost comforting.

The evangelist must not depend on foreign support other than an occasional supply of beads and calico; coffee is indigenous, and so is sugar-cane. When detained by ulcerated feet in Manyuema I made sugar by pounding the cane in the common wooden mortar of the country, squeezing out the juice very hard and boiling it till thick; the defect it had was a latent acidity, for which I had no lime, and it soon all fermented. I saw sugar afterwards at Ujiji made in the same way, and that kept for months. Wheat and rice are cultivated by the Arabs in all this upland region; the only thing a missionary needs in order to secure an abundant supply is to follow the Arab advice as to the proper season for sowing. Pomegranates,

The autumn was a happy time. The crops around the countryside were good, and over at the Forks Falls market the price of tobacco held firm that year. After the long hot summer the first cool days had a clean bright sweetness. Goldenrod grew along the dusty roads, and the sugar cane was ripe and purple. The bus came each day from Cheehaw to carry a few of the younger children to the consolidated school to get an education. Boys hunted foxes in the pinewoods, winter quilts were aired out on the wash lines, and sweet potatoes bedded in the ground with straw against the colder months to come. In the evening, delicate shreds of smoke rose from the chimneys, and the moon was round and orange in the autumn sky. There is no stillness like the quiet of the first cold nights in the fall. Sometimes, late in the night when there was no wind, there could be heard in the town the thin wild whistle of the train that goes through Society City on its way far off to the North.

For some reason I could not visit him as usual the next day, but at about nine o’clock on the morning of the fourth day, I went to see him again, along with the Karumbas and the sugar cane. But he was not there. However, we knew well enough where we would find him. He would be at the ‘Big Pool’, half a mile upstream, the ‘place where the elephants come to die,’ as the Karumbas call it in their own language. And we found him there, right enough. He was dead. The weather had been dry and the pool was only four feet deep. But the tusker had deliberately lain down in it on his side and placed his head and trunk beneath the surface of the water to drown. His flank protruded above and that was how we found him. There lies the answer to the great secret: where do the elephants go, and how do they die, when they become too old to live? They drown themselves in a river. I had solved the mystery and at the same time had enjoyed a unique friendship with a full-grown wild tusker, although it was but a brief one.

Our senses were assaulted with colours, smells and noise. We saw a million saris, and never once did I see the same pattern repeated twice. We saw poverty that both humbled and disturbed us. We bartered with street traders for Indian prices, not tourist prices. We stopped by the side of the road and watched an old man crushing sugar canes so that we could drink the juice. It was the most delectable and flavourful drink we have ever tasted. We walked barefoot around the Swaminarayan Akshardham, the largest Hindu house of worship in the world, and were absolutely awed. The whole temple echoes with spirituality and we could have spent an entire day there. I saw a village of dirty black bricks, no rendering, just filth and grime, and right in the middle an exquisite and elegant white temple, freshly painted and unblemished. We drove from Jaipur to Delhi. The previous day the road had been closed due to the Jat caste protests. Thirty people died, ten women reported being raped and buildings and cars were set on fire

and we knew that long after we should have forgotten the simple rivulet it would still be plodding its patient way down the mountain sides, and canyon-beds, and between the banks of the Yellowstone; and by and by would join the broad Missouri and flow through unknown plains and deserts and unvisited wildernesses; and add a long and troubled pilgrimage among snags and wrecks and sandbars; and enter the Mississippi, touch the wharves of St. Louis and still drift on, traversing shoals and rocky channels, then endless chains of bottomless and ample bends, walled with unbroken forests, then mysterious byways and secret passages among woody islands, then the chained bends again, bordered with wide levels of shining sugar-cane in place of the sombre forests; then by New Orleans and still other chains of bends—and finally, after two long months of daily and nightly harassment, excitement, enjoyment, adventure, and awful peril of parched throats, pumps and evaporation, pass the Gulf and enter into its rest upon the bosom of the tropic sea, never to look upon its snow-peaks again or regret them.

What we need,” I said, “are statistics on the amount of sugar cane standing in the field before the hurricanes came through Puerto Rico.” There was a stunned silence, as if they were afraid I had stumbled onto something that could turn out to be embarrassing for the Labor Department. “Well, it’s not that easy,” one of the Labor Department economists said. “We don’t have those statistics.” “I’ll bet the Department of Agriculture has them,” I said. “That’s still not the same as if we had them in the Department of Labor,” I was told. “Why can’t we get them from the Department of Agriculture?” I asked. “That’s easier said than done. First of all, we would have to make a request, going all the way up through channels to the Secretary of Labor. Then he would have to seek approval from the Secretary of Agriculture, who would then have to forward the request down the chain of command in the Department of Agriculture, to see if the data are available and can be released.” “Well,” I said, “John F. Kennedy says that a journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step. Let me file the request.” That was 1960. I have yet to receive an official reply to my request.

In the Middle Ages, sugar was a rare luxury in Europe. It was imported from the Middle East at prohibitive prices and used sparingly as a secret ingredient in delicacies and snake-oil medicines. After large sugar plantations were established in America, ever-increasing amounts of sugar began to reach Europe. The price of sugar dropped and Europe developed an insatiable sweet tooth. Entrepreneurs met this need by producing huge quantities of sweets: cakes, cookies, chocolate, candy, and sweetened beverages such as cocoa, coffee and tea. The annual sugar intake of the average Englishman rose from near zero in the early seventeenth century to around eighteen pounds in the early nineteenth century. However, growing cane and extracting its sugar was a labour-intensive business. Few people wanted to work long hours in malaria-infested sugar fields under a tropical sun. Contract labourers would have produced a commodity too expensive for mass consumption. Sensitive to market forces, and greedy for profits and economic growth, European plantation owners switched to slaves. From the sixteenth to the nineteenth centuries, about 10 million African slaves were imported to America. About 70 per cent of them worked on the sugar plantations. Labour conditions were abominable. Most slaves lived a short and miserable life, and millions more died during wars waged to capture slaves or during the long voyage from inner Africa to the shores of America. All this so that Europeans could enjoy their sweet tea and candy – and sugar barons could enjoy huge profits. The slave trade was not

Spinach Quiche Preheat oven to 375 degrees F., rack in the middle position   This is my recipe. It can be served as an appetizer if you cut it into thin slices and arrange them on a platter. It can also be served as an entrée.   One 9-inch unbaked pastry shell 1 beaten egg yolk (reserve the white in a small dish) 10-ounce package frozen chopped spinach ½ teaspoon salt ½ teaspoon pepper (freshly ground is best) 3 Tablespoons horseradish sauce 2 ounces shredded Jarlsberg (or good Swiss cheese) 4 eggs 1½ cups Half & Half (or light cream) 1/8 teaspoon salt 1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper 1/8 teaspoon nutmeg (freshly ground is best)   Beat the egg yolk in a glass with a fork. Brush the inside of the unbaked pastry shell with the yolk. Set the shell aside to dry. Cook and drain the spinach. Squeeze out as much moisture as you can and then blot with a paper towel. In a bowl, combine the spinach with the salt, pepper, and horseradish sauce. Spread it in the bottom of the pastry shell. Sprinkle the top with the grated cheese. Beat the 4 whole eggs with the reserved egg white. Add the Half & Half, salt, and cayenne pepper. Mix well and pour on top of cheese. Sprinkle the top with nutmeg. Bake at 375 degrees F. for 40 minutes, or until a knife inserted one inch from the center comes out clean. Let cool for ten minutes and then cut into wedges and serve. This quiche can be served warm or at room temperature. I’ve even been known to eat it cold, straight out of the refrigerator. It’s perfect for a fancy brunch or a lazy, relaxed breakfast on the weekend. Yield: Serves from 12 to 18 as an appetizer. Serves six as an entrée if they only have one piece.

Chocolate Cola Cupcakes with Fizzy Cola Frosting Makes approx. 12 large cupcakes 200g flour, sifted 250g superfine sugar 1/2 tsp. baking powder pinch salt 1 large free-range egg 125ml buttermilk 1 tsp. vanilla extract 125g unsalted butter 2 tbsp. cocoa powder 175ml Coca-Cola For the frosting 125g unsalted butter, softened 400g confectioners’ sugar 11/2 tbsp. cola syrup (I used Soda Stream) 40ml whole milk Pop Rocks, to taste fizzy cola bottles, candied lemon slices, striped straws or candy canes to decorate Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line two 6-cup muffin pans with paper liners. In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. In a separate bowl, beat together the egg, buttermilk and vanilla. Melt the butter, cocoa and Coca-Cola in a saucepan over low heat. Pour this mixture into the dry ingredients, stir well with a wooden spoon, and then add the buttermilk mixture, beating until the batter is well blended. Pour into your prepared pans and bake for 15 minutes, or until risen and a skewer comes out clean. Set aside to cool. To make the frosting, beat together the butter and confectioners’ sugar until no lumps are left—I use a free-standing mixer with the paddle attachment, but you could use a hand-held mixer instead. Stir the cola syrup and milk together in a pitcher, then pour into the butter and sugar mixture while beating slowly. Once incorporated, increase the speed to high and beat until light and fluffy. Carefully stir in your Pop Rocks to taste. It does lose its pop after a while, so the icing is best done just a few hours before eating. Spoon your icing into a piping bag and pipe over your cooled cupcakes. Decorate with fizzy cola bottles or a slice of candied lemon, a stripy straw or candy cane and an extra sprinkling of popping candy.

Again she heard that crackling hiss, and her nose filled with the smell of burning sugar. It was stronger this time, a sweet, dense cloud of perfume. Suddenly, she was back at the Menagerie, a thick hand grasping her wrist, demanding. Inej had gotten good at anticipating when a memory might seize her, bracing for it, but this time she wasn’t prepared. It came at her, more insistent than the wind on the wire, sending her mind sprawling. Though he smelled of vanilla, beneath it, she could smell garlic. She felt the slither of silk all around her as if the bed itself were a living thing. Inej didn’t remember all of them. As the nights at the Menagerie had strung together, she had become better at numbing herself, vanishing so completely that she almost didn’t care what was done to the body she left behind. She learned that the men who came to the house never looked too closely, never asked too many questions. They wanted an illusion, and they were willing to ignore anything to preserve that illusion. Tears, of course, were forbidden. She had cried the first night. Tante Heleen had used the switch on her, then the cane, then choked her until she’d passed out. The next time, Inej’s fear was greater than her sorrow. She learned to smile, to whisper, to arch her back and make the sounds Tante Heleen’s customers required. She still wept, but the tears were never shed. They filled the empty place inside her, a well of sadness where, each night, she sank like a stone. The Menagerie was one of the most expensive pleasure houses in the Barrel, but its customers were no kinder than those who frequented the dollar houses and alley girls. In some ways, Inej came to understand, they were worse. When a man spends that much coin, said the Kaelish girl, Caera, he thinks he’s earned the right to do whatever he wants. There were young men, old men, handsome men, ugly men. There was the man who cried and struck her when he could not perform. The man who wanted her to pretend it was their wedding night and tell him that she loved him. The man with sharp teeth like a kitten who had bitten at her breasts until she’d bled. Tante Heleen added the price of the blood-speckled sheets and the days of work Inej missed to her indenture. But he hadn’t been the worst.

Misdemeanor Mushrooms Preheat oven to 325 degrees F., rack in the middle position   This recipe is from Bill Jessup, Charlie Jessup’s cousin and he’s a detective. Charlie says he calls these “Misdemeanor Mushrooms,” because they’re so good they ought to be illegal.   2 pounds pork sausage 3 cloves of finely chopped garlic 2 Tablespoons ground sage 8-ounce package cream cheese 1 Tablespoon parsley 1 ounce Marsala wine (optional) 1 pound medium to large mushrooms Parmesan cheese (to sprinkle)   In a large, non-stick skillet, combine sausage, garlic and sage. Sauté until sausage is browned and garlic is translucent. Drain fat from skillet and add softened, cubed cream cheese and parsley. Simmer for 10 minutes, stir in the wine (if you want to use it,) remove from heat, and cover. Wash mushrooms. Remove stems and set caps aside. Chop the stems very fine and stir into the sausage/ cheese mixture. Brush caps with melted butter and arrange cap-down on a non-stick baking sheet. (Bill says if you shave just a bit from the bottom of the cap to make them flat, they’ll sit on the pan a lot better.) Fill each cap with a heaping mound of warm sausage mixture and sprinkle with Parmesan cheese. Bake in a 325-degree F. oven for 15 minutes. Yield: Serves 15 to 20 people as an appetizer (unless Charlie

Cheesy Spicy Corn Muffins This recipe is from Danielle Watson. She argued that it really isn’t a recipe since it’s not made from scratch, but we told her that didn’t matter.   1 package corn muffin mix, enough to make 12 muffins 4-ounce can well-drained diced green chilies (Danielle uses Ortega brand) ½ cup finely shredded sharp cheddar cheese (or Monterey Jack)   Preheat oven according to the directions on the corn muffin package. Prepare the corn muffin mix according to package directions. Add the green chilies and the shredded cheese, and stir well. Line muffin pans with a double layer of cupcake papers and spray the inside with Pam. Spoon the batter into the cupcake papers. Bake according to corn muffin package directions. Danielle says to tell you that if you have visiting relatives who don’t like any spice at all, you can substitute a half can of well-drained whole-kernel corn for the peppers. Yield: Whatever it says on the package and a little more.

Spinach Rollups This recipe is from my friend Susan Zilber. Susan moved away to New York, but I bet she still makes these.   5 to 8 flour tortillas (the large burrito size) 16-ounce package frozen chopped spinach ¼ cup mayonnaise ½ cup softened cream cheese ¼ cup sour cream 1/8 cup dried chopped onion ¼ cup bacon bits 1 Tablespoon Tabasco sauce   Cook the spinach and drain it, squeezing out all the moisture. (Cheesecloth inside a strainer works well for this.) Mix together all ingredients except the tortillas. Spread small amount of spinach mixture out on the face of a tortilla. Roll it up and place it in a plastic freezer bag. Continue spreading and rolling tortillas until the spinach mixture is gone. Fold the plastic bag over when all the rollups are inside to make sure they stay tightly rolled. Refrigerate for at least 4 hours. (Overnight is best.) Slice with a sharp knife, arrange on a platter, and serve as appetizers. Susan says to tell you that once she started to make these and found that she was out of sour cream. She used all cream cheese instead, and they were delicious. Hannah’s Addition to Susan’s Rollups 5 to 8 flour tortillas (the large burrito size) 6 ounces chopped smoked salmon (or lox) 1 cup (8 ounces) softened cream cheese ¼ cup dried chopped onions 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 1 teaspoon dill weed (of course fresh is best)   Mix all the ingredients except the tortillas together in a bowl. Spread small amount of the salmon mixture out on the face of a tortilla. Roll it up and place it in a plastic freezer bag. Continue spreading and rolling tortillas until the salmon mixture is gone. Fold the plastic bag over when all the rollups are inside to make sure they stay tightly rolled. Refrigerate for at least 4 hours. (Overnight is best.) Slice with a sharp knife, arrange on a platter, and serve as appetizers. I made Susan’s Spinach Rollups too, and after I cut them the next day, I arranged both kinds on the platter in contrasting rings. It looked gorgeous.

GOODIE FUDGE 1 cup golden raisins (or any other dried fruit that you prefer, cut in raisin-sized pieces)*** 2 cups miniature marshmallows (I used Kraft Jet-Puffed) 1 cup chopped salted pecans (measure after chopping) ¾ cup powdered (confectioners) sugar (pack it down in the cup when you measure it) ½ cup salted butter (1 stick, 4 ounces, ¼ pound) ½ cup white corn syrup (I used Karo) 12-ounce package semi-sweet chocolate chips (2 cups) 2 teaspoons vanilla extract ***—I’ve used dried cherries, chopped dried apricots, and dried peaches in this fudge. They were all delicious and I think I’ll try dried blueberries next. Lisa makes it with chopped dried pineapple for Herb because he loves pineapple. Prepare your pan. Line a 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan with heavy-duty aluminum foil. Make sure you tuck the foil into the corners and leave a flap all the way around the sides. (The reason you do this is for easy removal once the fudge has set.) Spray the foil with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. Sprinkle the raisins (or the other cut-up dried fruit you’ve used) over the bottom of the foil-lined cake pan. Sprinkle the miniature marshmallows over the fruit. Sprinkle the chopped pecans over that. Set the pan near the stovetop and get ready to make your fudge. Measure out the powdered sugar and place it in a bowl near the stove. You need it handy because you’re going to add it all at once. Melt the butter together with the corn syrup in a medium-sized saucepan over low heat. Add the chocolate chips and stir constantly until they’re melted and smooth. Remove the saucepan from the heat and add the vanilla. Be careful because it may sputter. Stir in the powdered sugar all at once and continue stirring until the mixture in the pan is smooth. Working quickly, spoon (or just pour if you can) the fudge you’ve made out of the saucepan and into the cake pan. Spread the fudge out as evenly as you can and stick it into the refrigerator to cool. Once the fudge has hardened, pull the foil with the fudge from your still-clean cake pan. Pull the foil down the sides and cut your Goodie Fudge into bite-sized pieces. Store in a cool place. Yield: 48 or more bite-sized pieces, depending on how large your bite is.

Cream of Cheat Mushroom Soup (This is one of Edna Ferguson’s recipes and she named it herself.)   2 cups chicken broth 8-ounce package sliced mushrooms (fresh, from the grocery store) with 12 perfect slices reserved for garnish 1 can (10 ¾ ounces) condensed Cream of Chicken Soup (undiluted) 2 cans (10 ¾ ounces each) condensed Cream of Mushroom Soup (undiluted) 1 cup heavy cream 8 oz. shredded Gruyere (or any good Swiss cheese, or even Monterey Jack) ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper   Combine the chicken broth and the package of mushrooms (remember to reserve those 12 perfect slices for the garnish) in a blender. Zoop them up. Add the can of Cream of Chicken soup to the blender. Zoop it all up. Spray the inside of a 4-quart slow cooker with Pam. Add the contents of the blender to the crock-pot. Add the cans of Cream of Mushroom soup to the crock-pot. Stir. Add the heavy cream, shredded cheese, and ground black pepper. Stir again. Cook on LOW for 4 to 5 hours. Ladle into bowls. Sprinkle with parsley and float

This knowledge of the preservative qualities of honey, at a time when the sugar-cane was unknown in the western world, is no doubt responsible for the fact that the entire body of Alexander the Great was preserved in honey, and viewed by lots and lots of people, some of whom no doubt exclaimed, “Isn’t he sweet!

Today St. Kitts is the only Leeward Island, of the Caribbean, that still grows sugar cane. However, sugar cane is very expensive to grow, harvest, and process. The fields are now state owned and the entire island crop is processed in one government-run factory. The dozens of sugar plantations, which had dotted the island, climbing from the shore up into the mountains, were gradually abandoned. In time, the handsome stone structures -- complete factories-- fell to wind, weather, and vandalism. Here and there on the island one can still see a signature smokestack rising a hundred feet into the sky, or the egg-shaped base of an old windmill. The possibility of a merger with other Leeward Islands and the Virgin Islands has been debated, as has the growing problem of drug trafficking, in which St Kitts & Nevis, like most small Caribbean islands, has become involved. The people of Nevis are themselves deeply split, roughly between the population of the southern towns, which favor independence, and the rest of the island, which does not. Were Nevis to become independent, it would be the world's smallest sovereign state after the Vatican, which naturally gives rise to concerns about its economic viability.

Today St. Kitts is the only Leeward Island, of the Caribbean, that still grows sugar cane. However, sugar cane is very expensive to grow, harvest, and process. The fields are now state owned and the entire island crop is processed in one government-run factory. The dozens of sugar plantations, which had dotted the island, climbing from the shore up into the mountains, were gradually abandoned. In time, the handsome stone structures -- complete factories-- fell to wind, weather, and vandalism.

Severo ajouta que la canne à sucre l'avait tellement envoûté qu'elle lui avait appris la sagesse, les rythmes lents de la nature, et les plantations étaient devenues pour lui plus précieuses que tout l'or du monde.

Then she remembered. The apple. Reaching over to her bag on the passenger seat with her right hand, left hand on the wheel, Grace grasped the apple like a baseball and brought it to her face. Again, she held it under her nose and took in its scent. Wow. Even with the wind blowing around her, the fragrance was full and lush and sweet- though not overtly, like so many of today's commercially bred grocery store apples, but deep, dark, sugared, as the night in a Caribbean cane field.

Physical action [paudgalik kriya] will give only worldly fruits; it will not go in vain. If you plant sugar cane, you will eat sweet food and if you plant bitter gourd, you will eat bitter food. Plant whichever taste appeals to you and if you want liberation [Moksha], then don’t plant anything. Stop sowing seeds altogether.

Thank God they didn't know about it, all those people who feared and needed and sucked up to Palmer Stoat, big-time lobbyist. All those important men and women clogging up his voice mail in Tallahassee... the mayor of Orlando, seeking Stoat's deft hand in obtaining $45 million in federal highway funds--Disney World, demanding yet another exit off Interstate 4; the president of a slot machine company, imploring Stoat to arrange a private dinner with the chief of the Seminole Indian Tribe; a United States Congresswoman from West Palm Beach, begging for box seats to the Marlins home opener (not for her personally, but for five sugar company executives who'd persuaded their Jamaican and Haitian cane pickers to donate generously--well beyond their means, in fact--to the Congresswoman's reelection account).

Of the 6,000 plant species humans have eaten over time, the world now mostly eats just nine, of which just three – rice, wheat and maize – provide 50 per cent of all calories. Add potato, barley, palm oil, soy and sugar (beet and cane) and you have 75 per cent of all the calories that fuel our species.

No, that's my Christian name. Why? Don't you know sugar is brown first? White folks couldn't stand the fact that something so sweet shared the same color as the people who cut the cane, slopped the hogs and picked the cotton. So they bleached it to resemble them, and now they done gone and fooled everybody, You included," Sugar said with a laugh.

You can be up to your boobies in white satin, with gardenias in your hair and no sugar cane for miles, but you can still be working on a plantation..

There were swirls and whirls in my head, a whole dream world of candy canes and chocolate dipping fountains bursting to life before my eyes. The Grim Reaper was there, floating along a peppermint brick road, tending to flowers which bloomed with petals made of sugar and cherries. Skeletons were hanging from a tree made of marshmallows, their feet kicking in an eternal jig while a squirrel peeped at me from the Coco Pop branches. No! Get out of here you peeping motherfucker of a-

The extreme demands of sugar production and a work force that was composed disproportionately of young, unmarried men made the renegotiation of slave labor particularly contentious, and the violence that accompanied it especially savage. Few southern slaves were accustomed to working at the murderous pace sugar production demanded. In lower Louisiana, they learned at the end of the lash. 'At the season's end, when cane is cut,' noted one visitor to Louisiana in the 1830s, 'nothing but the severest application of the lash can stimulate the human frame to endure it.' 'From the time of the commencement of sugar making to the close, the grinding and boiling does not cease day or night,' recalled Northup. 'The whip was given to me with directions to us it upon anyone who was caught idling.' The demands on slaves were felt in the quarter as well as in the field. While the slave population of the cotton South grew through natural increase, deaths in the sugar parishes outnumbered births. At mid-century, the fertility ate of slave women in St. Barnard and St. James parishes were only 60 percent of that of slave women in the cotton South. This demographic profile was more akin to the sugar islands of the Caribbean than to the mainland. With high mortality and low fertility, sugar planters sustained their workforce only by importation.

When the Europeans conquered America, they opened gold and silver mines and established sugar, tobacco and cotton plantations. These mines and plantations became the mainstay of American production and export. The sugar plantations were particularly important. In the Middle Ages, sugar was a rare luxury in Europe. It was imported from the Middle East at prohibitive prices and used sparingly as a secret ingredient in delicacies and snake-oil medicines. After large sugar plantations were established in America, ever-increasing amounts of sugar began to reach Europe. The price of sugar dropped and Europe developed an insatiable sweet tooth. Entrepreneurs met this need by producing huge quantities of sweets: cakes, cookies, chocolate, candy, and sweetened beverages such as cocoa, coffee and tea. The annual sugar intake of the average Englishman rose from near zero in the early seventeenth century to around eight kilograms in the early nineteenth century. However, growing cane and extracting its sugar was a labour-intensive business. Few people wanted to work long hours in malaria-infested sugar fields under a tropical sun. Contract labourers would have produced a commodity too expensive for mass consumption. Sensitive to market forces, and greedy for profits and economic growth, European plantation owners switched to slaves.

since the accident. I don’t know what her problem was. After all, I was a “hero.” At least the newspaper said so. “Hey, Alex,” she said, twirling her ponytail with her pencil. “Oh, hi,” I stammered, looking down at my burger. “You guys sounded really great in the talent show. I didn’t know you could sing like that.” “Uhh, thanks. It must be all the practice I get with my karaoke machine.” Oh God, did I just tell her I sing karaoke? Definitely not playing it cool, I thought to myself. TJ butted in, “Yeah, Small Fry was ok, but I really carried the show with my awesome guitar solo.” He smiled proudly. “Shut up, TJ,” I said, tossing a fry at him, which hit him between the eyes. “Hey, watch it, Baker. Just because you’re a ‘hero’ doesn’t mean I won’t pummel you.” “Yeah, right,” I said, smiling. Emily laughed. “Maybe we could come over during Christmas break and check out your karaoke machine. Right, Danielle?” Danielle rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yeah, whatever.” I gulped. “Uhhh…yeah…that sounds great.” “Ok, give me your hand,” she said. “My hand,” I asked, surprised. “Yep,” she said, grabbing my wrist and opening my palm. “Here’s my number,” she said, writing the numbers 585-2281 in gold glitter pen on my palm.” I will never wash my hand again, I thought to myself. “Text me over break, ok?” she said, smiling brightly. “Yeah, sure,” I nodded, as she walked away giggling with Danielle. “Merry Christmas to me!” I whispered to TJ and Simon. “Yeah, there’s just one problem, Dufus,” TJ said. “Oh yeah, what’s that, TJ? That she didn’t give you her number?” I asked. “No, Dork. How are you going to text her if you don’t have a cell phone?” He smiled. “Oh, right,” I said, slumping down in my seat. “That could be a problem.” “You could just call her on your home phone,” Simon suggested, wiping his nose with a napkin. “Yeah, sure,” TJ chuckled. “Hi Emily, this is Alex Baker calling from the year 1984.” He held his pencil to his ear like a phone.  “Would you like to come over to play Atari? Then maybe we can solve my Rubik’s Cube while we break dance ….and listen to New Kids on the Block.” He was cracking himself up and turning bright red. “Maybe I’ll type you a love letter on my typewriter. It’s so much cooler than texting.” “Shut up, TJ,” I said, smiling. “I’m starting to remember why I didn’t like you much at the beginning of the year.” “Lighten up, Baker. I’m just bustin’ your chops. Christmas is coming. Maybe Santa will feel sorry for your dorky butt and bring you a cell phone.” Chapter 2 ePhone Denied When I got home from school that day, it was the perfect time to launch my cell phone campaign. Mom was in full Christmas mode. The house smelled like gingerbread. She had put up the tree and there were boxes of ornaments and decorations on the floor. I stepped over a wreath and walked into the kitchen. She was baking sugar cookies and dancing around the kitchen to Jingle Bell Rock with my little brother Dylan. My mom twirled Dylan around and smiled. She was wearing the Grinch apron that we had given her last Christmas. Dylan was wearing a Santa hat, a fake beard, and of course- his Batman cape. Batman Claus. “Hey Honey. How was school?” she asked, giving Dylan one more spin. “It was pretty good. We won second place in the talent show.” I held up the candy cane shaped award that Ms. Riley had given us. “Great job! You and TJ deserved it. You practiced hard and it payed off.” “Yeah, I guess so,” I said, grabbing a snicker-doodle off the counter. “And now it’s Christmas break! I bet your excited.” She took a tray of cookies out of the oven and placed

In between every trial there would stretch out the tedium that sucks a man dry, drawing off the juice from body and soul as a native removes the contents of a stick of sugar cane, leaving it spent, cracked, good for nothing but the flames.

I force myself to fall into a routine. Froth the milk. Pump the cane sugar. Pretend there isn’t a dead bird in a box in my apartment. The first two are easier than the third.

Puck makes clear a particular point of etiquette, nonetheless. He objects to the word ‘fairy’ and always says ‘People of the Hills.’ “That's how I feel about saying- that word that I don't say. Besides, what you call them are made-up things the People of the Hills have never heard of- little buzzflies with butterfly wings and gauze petticoats, and shiny stars in their hair, and a wand like a schoolteacher's cane for punishing bad boys and rewarding good ones. I know 'em!... Can you wonder that the People of the Hills don't care to be confused with that painty-winged, wand-waving, sugar-and-shake-your-head set of impostors? Butterfly wings, indeed!... Butterfly-wings! It was Magic- Magic as black as Merlin could make it… That was how it was in the old days!

There are hints, too, of wider social trends. The first edition of the Dictionary contains more than thirty references to coffee, and even more to tea. Johnson would vigorously defend the latter, not long after the Dictionary was published, in his review of an essay by the umbrella-toting Hanway, who believed it was ‘pernicious to health, obstructing industry and impoverishing the nation’.2 Johnson’s love of tea was deep but not exceptional: the leaf had been available in England since the 1650s (Pepys records drinking it for the first time in September 1660), and by 1755 it was being imported to Britain at the rate of 2,000 tons a year. The fashion for tea-drinking, facilitated by Britain’s imperial resources, drove demand for another fruit of the colonies, sugar (‘the native salt of the sugar-cane, obtained by the expression and evaporation of its juice’). Tea also played a crucial role in the dissolution of the eighteenth-century British Empire, for it was of course Bostonian opponents of a British tax on tea who opened the final breach between Britain and colonial America. All the same, it was coffee that proved the more remarkable phenomenon of the age. Johnson gives a clue to this when he defines ‘coffeehouse’ as ‘a house of entertainment where coffee is sold, and the guests are supplied with newspapers’. It was this relationship between coffee and entertainment (by which Johnson meant ‘conversation’) that made it such a potent force. Coffee was first imported to Europe from Yemen in the early part of the seventeenth century, and the first coffee house opened in St Mark’s Square in Venice in 1647. The first in England opened five years later—a fact to which Johnson refers in his entry for ‘coffee’—but its proprietor, Daniel Edwards, could hardly have envisioned that by the middle of the following century there would be several thousand coffee houses in London alone, along with new coffee plantations, run by Europeans, in the East Indies and the Caribbean. Then as now, coffee houses were meeting places, where customers (predominantly male) could convene to discuss politics and current affairs. By the time of the Dictionary they were not so much gentlemanly snuggeries as commercial exchanges. As the cultural historian John Brewer explains, ‘The coffee house was the precursor of the modern office’; in later years Johnson would sign the contract for his Lives of the English Poets in a coffee house on Paternoster Row, and the London Stock Exchange and Lloyd’s have their origins in the coffee-house culture of the period. ‘Besides being meeting places’, the coffee houses were ‘postes restantes, libraries, places of exhibition and sometimes even theatres’. They were centres, too, of political opposition and, because they were open to all ranks and religions, they allowed a rare freedom of information and expression.

his father had to give half his sugar cane yield to the landowner, was in never-ending debt to the merchant who sold them seeds, clothes and tools, and ran the risk of eviction if the crop failed Slim said many of his people left the land after slavery because it reminded them of it

avoid refined carbohydrates: white sugar, honey, high-fructose corn syrup, cookies, cakes, pastries, white bread, crackers, potato chips, french fries, commercial waffles, candy, donuts, and many dry breakfast cereals (juice-sweetened cereals listing whole grains as a primary ingredient are okay, but those with added sugar, evaporated cane juice, or honey are likely to raise your levels of tumor-fueling blood sugar and insulin). Instead, emphasize whole grains such as those above, as well as complex carbs such as vegetables, legumes, beans, and fresh fruit. If you crave something sweet, try dried fruit, rice syrup, barley malt, agave, kiwi sweetener, stevia, FruitSource, or maple syrup.

The average American eats 150 pounds of sugars (total caloric sweeteners) annually. In 2000, 66 pounds of beet and cane sugar and 87 pounds of corn sweeteners were consumed by Americans.14, 15 That’s a lot of sugar. To get a sense of just how that stacks up, consider that before the Industrial Revolution, humans consumed about 20 teaspoons of sugar per person per year; in Paleolithic times, that amount was as little as 2 teaspoons.

Since 1985 our [American's] consumption of all added sugars- cane, beet, HFCS, glucose, honey, maple syrup, whatever- has climbed from 128 pounds to 159 pounds per person.

Firewater Sometimes I think how alcohol’s a marvelous solvent, can remove red people from a continent, turn bronze to guilt. What was DuPont’s old motto—Better things for better living through chemistry? You take potatoes from Peru, barley from Palestine, maize from Mexico, sugar cane from

Readers are encouraged to believe that millipedes swallowed whole are a convenient laxative, that bookbinders have traditionally used aqua fortis (nitric acid) to marble the covers of their books, and that at least one person has suffered as a result of assuming that ‘aqua fortis’ is ‘strong water’. The calyx of the plant known as ‘skullcap’ looks like the heel of a slipper. Russian potash is stronger than Swedish. Windmills are twice as effective as watermills. Candied sea holly—also known as ‘eryngo’—was once ‘sent to London for medicinal use’. In Italy, the usual method for finding truffles or ‘subterraneous mushrooms’ involves tying a cord to the hind leg of a pig, taking him out into the fields, and observing where he rootles. Sugar cane in Tobago has been known to grow twenty-four feet high. The American frog ‘brings forth young from her back’. Criminals in Turkey are dropped from high places ‘upon hooks’. The backstaff, ‘useful in taking the sun’s altitude at sea’, was invented by a Captain Davies.

He stood in front of Judge, their chest only inches apart. He could smell Judge’s sweet breath from that fucking sugar cane stick, but he held his breath and said his piece. “I’m not here to slow you down. I just want to get this asshole back in prison where he belongs. I’m not concerned about your ethics, your routine, your schedule, your pace, or your goddamn feelings. I’ll do my job and get the fuck out of your way. You’ll never see me again… if I’m lucky.” Michaels yanked his coat of the back of the chair. “I’m gonna step outside.” Judge was staring, his mouth tight. Michaels turned and made a sharp whistle. The dog’s ears pointed up higher turning in his direction. Michaels voice was deep and commanding when he spoke to it. “Come. Go outside with me, big boy.” With his hand lowered, fingertips curved under, Michaels waited while the large Dane sniffed his hand, familiarizing himself with his scent. When he was satisfied that Michaels wasn’t a threat, he happily followed him outside. That oughta show him. He’d walked off with the asshole’s dog. He

One would expect to find a comparatively high proportion of carbon 13 [the carbon from corn] in the flesh of people whose staple food of choice is corn - Mexicans, most famously. Americans eat much more wheat than corn - 114 pounds of wheat flour per person per year, compared to 11 pounds of corn flour. The Europeans who colonized America regarded themselves as wheat people, in contrast to the native corn people they encountered; wheat in the West has always been considered the most refined, or civilized, grain. If asked to choose, most of us would probably still consider ourselves wheat people, though by now the whole idea of identifying with a plant at all strikes us as a little old-fashioned. Beef people sounds more like it, though nowadays chicken people, which sounds not nearly so good, is probably closer to the truth of the matter. But carbon 13 doesn't lie, and researchers who compared the carbon isotopes in the flesh or hair of Americans to those in the same tissues of Mexicans report that it is now we in the North who are the true people of corn. 'When you look at the isotope ratios,' Todd Dawson, a Berkeley biologist who's done this sort of research, told me, 'we North Americans look like corn chips with legs.' Compared to us, Mexicans today consume a far more varied carbon diet: the animals they eat still eat grass (until recently, Mexicans regarded feeding corn to livestock as a sacrilege); much of their protein comes from legumes; and they still sweeten their beverages with cane sugar. So that's us: processed corn, walking.

From the Bridge” Celebrating “La Navidad Cubana” Before the fall of Batista, Cuba was considered to be a staunch Catholic Nation. As in other Christian countries, Christmas was considered a religious holiday. In 1962, a few years after the revolution, Cuba became an atheist country by government decree. Then In 1969, Fidel Castro thinking that Christmas was interfering with the production of sugar cane, totally removed the holiday from the official calendar. Of course Christmas was still celebrated by Cubans in exile, many of whom live in South Florida and Union City, NJ. However it was still was celebrated clandestinely in a subdued way on the island. It was said, if it is to believed, that part of the reason for this was due to the fact that Christmas trees do not grow in Cuba. Now that Christianity and Christmas have both been reestablished by the government, primarily due to the Pope’s visits to Cuba, Christmas as a holiday has been reinstated. Many Christmas traditions have been lost over the past five decades and are still not observed in Cuba, although the Cuban Christmas feast is highlighted by a festive “Pig Roast,” called the “Cena de Navidad” or Christmas dinner. Where possible, the dinner includes Roast Pork done on a spit, beans, plantains, rice and “mojo” which is a type of marinade with onions, garlic, and sour orange. Being a special event, some Cubans delight in serving the roasted pork, in fancier ways than others. Desserts like sweet potatos, “turrones” or nougats, “buñuelos” or fritters, as well as readily available tropical fruits and nuts hazelnuts, guava and coconuts, are very common at most Christmas dinners. Beverages such as the “Mojito” a drink made of rum, sugar cane juice, lime, carbonated water and mint, is the main alcoholic drink for the evening, although traditionally the Christmas dinner should be concluded by drinking wine. This grand Christmas dinner is considered a special annual occasion, for families and friends to join together. Following this glorious meal, many Cubans will attend Misa de Gallo or mass of the rooster, which is held in most Catholic churches at midnight. The real reason for Christmas in Cuba, as elsewhere, is to celebrate the birth of Christ. Churches and some Cuban families once again, display manger scenes. Traditionally, children receive presents from the Three Wise Men and not from Santa Claus or the parents. Epiphany or “Three King’s Day,” falls on January 6th. Christmas in Cuba has become more festive but is not yet the same as it used to be. Although Christmas day is again considered a legal holiday in Cuba, children still have to attend school on this holiday and stores, restaurants and markets stay open for regular business. Christmas trees and decorations are usually only displayed at upscale hotels and resorts.

The 5th Marine Division had suffered such severs casualties, they were able to bring our entire Division back to Hawaii in only 5 or 6 ships. We docked in Hilo and boarded a single train normally used to haul sugar cane to mill. These were open flat cars, the weather was beautiful, the scenery fantastic. As our train gets underway the Marines break out their Jap flags captured on Iwo Jima. There were hundreds of Jap flags flying from on end of the train to the other. This was a beautiful sight. The victors had returned home. I've never felt so proud to be a part of anything like this before in my life. There were no spectators, no one watching us, no crowd, no cheering, no band, only the remainder of a proud 5th Marine Division returning home. For some reason I preferred it this way, no one could understand our feelings at this time.

I stared at a tree against dusk Till it was a girl Standing beside a country road Shucking cane with her teeth. She looked up & smiled & waved. Lost in what hurts, In what tasted good, could she Ever learn there's no love In sugar?

Added sugars: Agave, agave nectar, barley malt, barley malt syrup, beet sugar, brown rice syrup, brown sugar, cane crystals, cane juice, cane sugar, caramel, coconut sugar, corn sweetener, corn syrup, corn syrup solids, crystalline fructose, date sugar, dehydrated cane juice, demerara sugar, dextrin, dextrose, diastatic malt, evaporated cane juice, fructose, fruit juice, fruit juice concentrate, galactose, glucose, glucose solids, golden syrup, high-fructose corn syrup, honey, invert sugar, inulin, jaggery, lactose, malt syrup, maltodextrin, maltose, maple syrup, molasses, monk fruit (luo han guo), muscovado sugar, palm sugar, panela, panocha, rapadura, raw cane sugar, raw sugar, refined sugar, rice bran syrup, rice syrup, saccharose, sorghum syrup, sucanat, sucrose, syrup, treacle, turbinado sugar, yacon syrup. (For a discussion of Paleo Approach–friendly treats, see here.)

The excess of calories over body building minerals is exceedingly high in sweets of various kinds regardless of their special branding and the methods of manufacture and storage. There is very little of the body building minerals in maple syrup, cane syrup from sugar or honey. They can all defeat an otherwise efficient dietary. The problem is not so simple as merely cutting down or eliminating sugars and white flour though this is exceedingly important. It is also necessary that adequate mineral and vitamin carrying foods be made available. It is also necessary to realize that many of our important foods for providing vitamins are very low in body building material. For example, one

Books by Joanne Fluke CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE MURDER STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE MURDER BLUEBERRY MUFFIN MURDER LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER FUDGE CUPCAKE MURDER SUGAR COOKIE MURDER PEACH COBBLER MURDER CHERRY CHEESECAKE MURDER KEY LIME PIE MURDER CANDY CANE MURDER CARROT CAKE MURDER CREAM PUFF MURDER PLUM PUDDING MURDER APPLE TURNOVER MURDER DEVIL’S FOOD CAKE MURDER GINGERBREAD COOKIE MURDER JOANNE FLUKE’S LAKE EDEN COOKBOOK CINNAMON ROLL MURDER RED VELVET CUPCAKE MURDER Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

The priest motioned for the congrecation to sit, then welcomed everyone in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. He wasn't so much thin as soft, with wisps of dull brown hair and oversize glasses that made him look gooberish. As he shook holy water over a bundle of cane stalks leaning against the wall, Charley wondered if his blessing would be powerful enough, because from where she sat, it looked like he'd have trouble asking for extra mayo on his sandwich.

Sugar: It is common and accurate to say that refined sugar and sweeteners like high-fructose corn syrup lead to weight gain and are detrimental to our health. In response, the health food market has developed many different ways to imitate the effects of refined sugars through substances like evaporated cane juice and brown rice syrup. Our bodies don’t need sources of sugar that have gone through any of these types of processing, and the difficulty digesting such substances leads to weight gain and health problems.

This dark-brown viscous liquid, a by-product in the processing of sugar cane, played a major role in some of the biggest events in American history: in the colonial discontent that led directly to the Revolution; in the introduction of slavery to the New World and, thus, the Civil War; in the growth of rum and liquor distilleries throughout the United States, and the resulting Prohibition movement; and in ensuring the superiority of Allied firepower that would eventually lead to victory in the First World War. It all started in Boston and New England.

In the northeastern Brazilian state of Pernambuco, for example, a group of fishing families had lived since 1914 on islands in the Sirinhaém River estuary. In 1998 the Usina Trapiche sugar refinery petitioned the state to take over the land. The islanders say that the refinery then followed up its petition by destroying their homes and small farms, threatening further violence to those who did not leave. When the fishing families rebuilt their homes, they were burned down. Coca-Cola and PepsiCo use Usina Trapiche sugar in their products, but until Oxfam’s campaign they denied responsibility for the conduct of their suppliers. Oxfam asked all of the Big 10 food brands to show ethical leadership by requiring that their suppliers obtain the free, prior, and informed consent of indigenous and local communities before acquiring land. Nestlé was the first to support this principle fully. Then Coca-Cola declared a policy of zero tolerance for landgrabbing by its suppliers and bottlers and committed to disclosing its suppliers of sugar cane, soy, and palm oil, to conducting social, environmental, and human rights assessments, and to engaging with Usina Trapiche regarding the conflict with the people of the Sirinhaém River estuary. In 2014 PepsiCo also accepted the principle of responsibility for its suppliers. Associated British Foods, the largest sugar producer in Africa and another Big 10 food corporation, is now also committed to the same principle.12 The gains from these policy commitments are more difficult to quantify than in the example of Ghana’s oil revenues, but in the long run they too may be very substantial.

The light is the color of brandy seeping. It has a taste. Your skin tastes it, like you're all over tongues. The taste is sugar-cane, slowly rotting, turning into the great god rum. It's always that magic hour those film-boys love to shoot down here. Always gold.

I was literally dazed by the volt of vehemence that a thin sugar cane stick like body can throw out. “I understand, but

Josh and his wife, Jacq, launched Bahen & Co. in 2011. Bahen handcrafts every bar of chocolate, using just two ingredients: cacao beans and cane sugar. The beans are sourced from a handful of farmers whom Josh has looked in the eye. The beans are ground

When the Planters fled from Haiti, they established coffee farms or cafetales, as part of their newly formed Plantation. Generally, coffee profits were about 5%, whereas sugar gave them a 10% return, but much was dependent on the economy and local conditions. Cafetales were easier to start and with as little as 10 slaves, a planter could begin his enterprise. Most of the French plantation owners took great pride in their holdings and beautified their plantations with magnificent palms lining grand entryways and spectacular wrought iron gates. The eastern end of Cuba was still available for development and many big plantations started in this modest way, but eventually the coffee plants were replaced with sugar cane due to the greater profit margin. Though blamed by many as the sole cause for the decline of Cuba’s coffee industry, the U.S. Import Tariff of 1835 was only partially to blame for the fall in coffee production. From the beginning, the prices of sugar fluctuated and prevented the Cuban economy from ever becoming stable. The first time was when the prices reached a high, during the Peace of Amiens in 1802. The treaty only survived for a year and shortly thereafter prices plunged, when the supply exceeded demand. During the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars, the price of sugar soared again, until the British conquest of Martinique and Guadeloupe brought the price tumbling down. The following year during the War of 1812 prices rose again, and by 1814 they reached another all-time high. This continued into modern times, creating a feast or famine economy.