Stew Smith Quotes

Stew's so comforting on a rainy day.

Please, comrade! I just want to chop him up for the stew!' 'And that's another thing! I'm tired of stew! I want to put him in a crust and bake a light fluffy quiche!' 'QUICHE?! What kind of food is THAT for a monster to eat?!

Our bellies are empty and our patience is short...submit to us and we will make of you a great quiche!' 'Again with the QUICHE?! What kind of self-respecting monster would eat a DAINTY PASTRY DISH?! STEW is what we will make of their bones!' 'Don't get greedy on me! There's three of them! I just want the little one for my quiche!' 'It was nothing to do with greed! It's a matter of principle! MONSTERS DO NOT EAT QUICHE!

Sealed off from enchantment, the modern buffered self is also sealed off from significance, left to ruminate in a stew of its own ennui.

Nay, so great was our famine that a Salvage we slew and buried, the poorer sort took him up again and eat him; and so did divers one another, boyled and stewed with roots and herbs. And one amongst the rest did kill his wife, powdered her, and had eaten part of her, before it was knowne, for which hee was executed, as hee well deserved. Now whether shee was better roasted, boyled, or carbonado'd I know not, but of such a dish as powdered wife I never heard of.

William’s weekend with his friends, Geoffrey and Maggie, was turning out to be neither restful nor enjoyable. Things could have been worse, of course: there must be weekends during which the hosts’ house burns to the ground, one of the guests murders another, the hostess is arrested in extradition proceedings or the guests are all poisoned by the inclusion of death’s cap mushrooms in the stew. Such weekends must be very difficult indeed, not least because of the wording of the thank-you letters that one would have to write. The disaster, whatever it was, could hardly be ignored, but must be referred to tactfully in the letter, and always set in proper perspective. Thus, in the case of the mushroom poisoning, one would comment on how the other courses of the meal were delicious; in the case of the hostess’s arrest, one would say something comforting about the ability of defence lawyers in the jurisdiction to which she was being extradited—and so on, mutatis mutandis, trying at all times to be as positive as possible.

Chapter Eleven She did not spend long in the supermarket at Riverwalk, confining her purchases to supplies she would need for the next few days. There was beef for stew, a large pumpkin, a packet of beans, a dozen eggs, and two loaves of bread. The pumpkin looked delicious—almost perfectly round and deep yellow in colour, it sat on the passenger seat beside her so comfortably as she drove out of the car park, so pleased to be what it was, that she imagined conducting a conversation with it, telling it about the Orphan Farm and Mma Potokwane and her concerns over Mma Makutsi. And the pumpkin would remain silent, of course, but would somehow indicate that it knew what she was talking about, that there were similar issues in the world of pumpkins. She smiled. There was no harm, she thought, in allowing your imagination to run away with you, as a child’s will do, because the thoughts that came in that way could be a comfort, a relief in a world that could be both sad and serious. Why not imagine a talk with a pumpkin? Why not imagine going off for a drive with a friendly pumpkin, a companion who would not, after all, answer back; who would agree with everything you said, and would at the end of the day appear on your plate as a final gesture of friendship? Why not allow yourself a few minutes of imaginative silliness so that you could remember what it was like when you believed such things, when you were a child at the feet of your grandmother, listening to the old Setswana tales of talking trees and clever baboons and all the things that made up that world that lay just on the other side of the world we knew, the world of the real Botswana. Mma Ramotswe

She was a new world - a place of endless mysteries and unexpected delights, an enchanting mixture of woman and child. She supervised the domestic routine with deceptive lack of fuss. With her there, suddenly his clothes were clean and had their full complement of buttons; the stew of boots and books and unwashed socks in his wagon vanished. There were fresh bread and fruit preserves on the table; Kandhla's eternal grilled steaks gave way to a variety of dishes. Each day she showed a new accomplishment. She could ride astride, though Sean had to turn his back when she mounted and dismounted. She cut Sean's hair and made as good a job of it as his barber in Johannesburg. She had a medicine chest in her wagon from which she produced remedies for every ailing man or beast in the company. She handled a rifle like a man and could strip and clean Sean's Mannlicher. She helped him load cartridges, measuring the charges with a practised eye. She could discuss birth and procreation with a clinical objectivity and a minute later blush when she looked at him that way. She was as stubborn as a mule, haughty when it suited her, serene and inscrutable at times and at others a little girl. She would push a handful of grass down the back of his shirt and run for him to chase her, giggle for minutes at a secret thought, play long imaginative games in which the dogs were her children and she talked to them and answered for them. Sometimes she was so naive that Sean thought she was joking until he remembered how young she was. She could drive him from happiness to spitting anger and back again within the space of an hour. But, once he had won her confidence and she knew that he would play to the rules, she responded to his caresses with a violence that startled them both. Sean was completely absorbed in her. She was the most wonderful thing he had ever found and, best of all, he could talk to her.

Chickpea Mulligatawny Stew Serves: 6 ¾ cup unsweetened flaked coconut 4 cups low-sodium or no-salt-added vegetable broth, divided 3 Medjool dates or 6 regular dates, pitted 1 onion, chopped ¼ cup garlic cloves, chopped 1 carrot, peeled and diced 1 stalk celery, chopped 2 tablespoons white wine 4 ounces cremini mushrooms, chopped 1 Granny Smith apple, peeled and diced 2 tablespoons curry powder 3 cups cooked chickpeas or 2 (15-ounce) cans low-sodium or no-salt-added chickpeas, drained 3 cups no-salt-added diced tomatoes, in BPA-free packaging Cayenne pepper, to taste 1 pound chopped fresh or frozen spinach (or greens of your choice) ½ pound steamed broccoli florets ½ pound steamed cauliflower florets Purée the flaked coconut, 2 cups of the broth, and the dates in a high-powered blender until smooth. Set aside. In a large soup pot, sauté the onion, garlic, carrot, and celery in the white wine until the onions are translucent and lightly browned. Add the mushrooms and apple and continue to cook until the mushrooms release their juices. Add the curry powder and sauté for another minute. Add the chickpeas, tomatoes, coconut purée, and the remaining broth and bring to a boil. Simmer for 10 minutes, taste and adjust with more curry powder and cayenne if desired. Then, stir in the spinach, broccoli, and cauliflower and continue cooking until the spinach is wilted. PER SERVING: CALORIES 362; PROTEIN 15g; CARBOHYDRATE 57g; TOTAL FAT 10.8g; SATURATED FAT 6.9g; SODIUM 202mg; FIBER 16.2g; BETA-CAROTENE 6771mcg; VITAMIN C 75mg; CALCIUM 232mg; IRON 6.2mg; FOLATE 328mcg; MAGNESIUM 150mg; ZINC 2.7mg; SELENIUM 13.9mcg

The Girl Guides kept up their activities as well, giving Elizabeth an unexpectedly democratic experience when refugees from London’s bomb-ravaged East End were taken in by families on the Windsor estate and joined the troop. The girls earned their cooking badges, with instruction from a castle housekeeper, by baking cakes and scones (a talent Elizabeth would later display for a U.S. president) and making stew and soup. With their Cockney accents and rough ways, the refugees gave the future Queen no deference, calling her Lilibet, the nickname even daughters of aristocrats were forbidden to use, and compelling her to wash dishes in an oily tub of water

Protein and the Story of the AGEs Advanced glycation end-products (AGEs) can do some serious damage, especially over time. An article in The Clinical Journal of the American Society of Nephrology makes several important points about protein and its relationship to many of the diseases of aging: • Human studies indicate that excess dietary protein promotes progressive kidney damage by increasing the AGE burden. • A prudent approach is to recommend that people with chronic kidney disease achieve the recommended dietary allowance of protein—0.8 g/kg per day, or about 10 percent of total caloric intake— with an emphasis on high-quality protein, low in AGEs. • Conversely, very low dietary protein intake may lead to malnutrition, especially in those with advanced chronic kidney disease. • The dietary AGE load can be minimized by consuming nonmeat proteins. • There are several culinary methods that reduce AGE formation during cooking—steaming, poaching, boiling, and stewing. Frying, broiling, or grilling should be avoided, as they promote AGE formation. • Limitation of dietary AGEs seems prudent in those with obesity, diabetes, and other risk factors for chronic kidney disease.i With the gradual onset of kidney failure, acidosis again ensues and will lead to all types of inflammation and metabolic abnormalities. The preceding recommendations for how to avoid turning a meal into AGEs should become a major agingmanagement technology for Baby Boomers everywhere. — Leonard Smith, M.D.

He looked up from his stew. “Mma Ramotswe,” he said, “you can do anything. Nothing is too hard for a person like you—nothing. You are very good at doing everything, Mma, and anything you do, Mma

After a meal of yogurt soup, duck with pomegranate and walnut sauce over barley, stewed spinach, and baked apples, they could move to her receiving room and enjoy wine in the comfort of a more private setting.

The governor of Illinois feared that armed Mormon retaliation could escalate into a civil war. He urged Smith’s successor, Brigham Young, and his followers to leave the state. Soon the urging became more insistent: leave or be forcibly expelled. Young agreed to go. Young now faced a serious organizational challenge. How do you plan an exodus? How should you move thousands of families and their horses, mules, oxen, cows, sheep, pigs, chickens, dogs, cats, geese, and goats, all while searching for a permanent home? Young stewed on the problem, debated with his advisors, and finally, on January 14, 1847, announced that the Lord had spoken to him. The Church should divide into small companies, each led by a single captain, and head west.

* * * The next morning, just before dawn, Tobias went out to the shed to awaken the Indians to eat coon stew Emma had prepared for them. There was no one there. FOUR The wheels creaked loudly as the wagon moved slowly along the old Indian trail that was just wide enough for it to pass. Both sides of the trail were bordered thickly with scrub pine and hickory

It was wild boar hunting season, when the cinghiali gorged themselves on truffles and teams of dogs and men pursued them through the Umbrian countryside. I had eaten Donata’s wild boar many times over the years; it was marinated in red wine and herbs overnight and then stewed with tomatoes, lard, olive oil, and spices.