Greetings Blaze Babes.

I won’t be around to chat on the 15th for the next couple of blogs. This month I’ll be on a cruise ship in Alaska, being served, seeing whales, being served, hiking glaciers, being served . . . do we detect a theme? Single Mom is ready for a break. Next month we’ll be on our annual trip to the wilds of Maine.

I just turned in a Blaze, the second book in an online-dating trilogy to be released next year in February, April and June. I played around with another different type of hero, and ended up just as in love with him as I was with my nerd hero, Edgar, from Surprise Me . . . I don’t know, maybe my subconscious is telling me to get over Gerard Butler already, whadya think?

This month we are progressing to the next course in our outdoor summer meal. This savory tart is fabulous on a buffet or as a vegetarian main course (both my sons went vegetarian this month, and after reading The Omnivore’s Dilemma, I don’t blame them). It’s beautiful with the pattern of yellow and red tomatoes scattered with black olives, very tasty and can be made a little ahead.

Anyone scared of making pie crust, I’ve come up with a great method, adapted from Cook’s Illustrated and Shirley Corriher, the fabulous chemist/cook whose books, Bakewise and Cookwise analyze the scientific way ingredients act on each other.

Here is what I learned: Fat coating flour keeps the pie crust (or any baked good) tender, because the flour can’t form gluten bonds, which are good for nice, chewy bread, but not for pie crust. Alcohol helps similarly. Bigger fat pieces make the crust flaky, because they melt in the heat and leave holes. Tender and flaky are things we definitely want for pie crust.

Here’s what I do: In a food processor, add roughly 1/5 to 1/4 of the total fat (butter, lard, Crisco) in your recipe to the flour and whatever other ingredients (usually salt and/or sugar), turn on the machine and let it run, so the fat is completely mixed into the flour, no visible pieces left. This will make it tender. Then add the rest of the fat in pieces as you usually would, and pulse until they’re pea-sized or slightly smaller. Replace about 1/4 of the ice water in your recipe with vodka, sprinkle that over the fat/flour, and pulse until the dough forms clumps. Chill first or roll out immediately and chill after. I use a floured silicone baking sheet to roll out the dough and usually put the crust (in the pie plate) in the freezer while I’m making the filling.

Here’s the recipe! Bon Appetit!

Tomato and Onion Tart

Have a terrific summer!

Cheers,

Isabel
www.IsabelSharpe.com

Dear Blaze Babes, happy June! The month for weddings and brides and when a man’s fancy turns lightly to thoughts of love. Or knowing men, to thoughts of getting some. Spring turned me into a raging lunatic who signed up on a dating site. Oh the stories! This being Wisconsin, I get sent pictures of men with animals they’ve just killed. Is this some cave-man thing, “Me can provide woman meat?” Have they not heard of supermarkets?

I’m being horribly snarky—it just seemed an odd form of courtship to me. Look! Dead things! But they tell me women send men pictures of their gardens. Hello? Ladies? What are you thinking? These are men. They want to see your tomatoes, not your petunias.

Okay, enough of that ranting. I have a non-romance book out this month from Avon/HarperCollins called Knit in Comfort, about a group of women in modern-day North Carolina brought together by lace-knitting, secrets, and old legends from the Shetland Islands in the 1920s. I’m really excited about this one. Check it out!

Okay, on to food. This month we’re going to put together a seductively good casual summer dinner for that “special someone” (if I read that phrase one more time in an man’s online profile I’ll hurl). We’re starting with a cold soup, very easy but elegant, which is, as you have probably guessed by now, my favorite way to cook. It’s from the “blue” volume of the New York Times Cookbook series by Craig Claiborne. Chilled creamy tomato soup with a tiny hint of curry powder, which adds depth and interest to the flavor without being an obvious ingredient. If you don’t have a microplane zester for grating citrus rind, get one (I linked to the company site, but you can find them all over). It makes the odious job a total snap, and is great for removing the tough brown skin from a fresh coconut, too. (I feel like that woman who gives household tips, what’s her name? Heloise?)

Cold Tomato Soup

3 cups tomato juice
2 tablespoons tomato paste
4 scallions, minced
½ tsp. curry powder
Pepper
Grated rind of ½ lemon
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 cup sour cream

Here are the very complicated instructions:

Mix. Chill.

Sounds exhausting, doesn’t it?

Have a wonderful June! See you in July.

Isabel
www.IsabelSharpe.com

Hello Blaze Babes. Time to finish up our Lebanese meal with dessert, because those people who eat entrees and soup or salad and call that a complete meal are simply bad and wrong. My kids tell me they have separate stomachs for dessert that don’t get full from healthy food. I think they have the right idea.

First, my May Blaze is out, Surprise Me . . . the sequel to my April Wrong Bed book. It’s the story of Melanie who has spent her whole life falling for bad boys, but finally gets love right with the last man she expects to. Since it’s a Wrong Bed, of course we have fun stuff right at the beginning.

But today we’re talking about endings. Sweet endings. Baklava, which in Lebanon is called something different only I have no idea how to spell it properly since I’ve only heard my Dad say it (ba’laywi?), is made in many wonderfully sweet and crunchy shapes and sizes with different doughs and nuts. We’ll keep it simple here.

If you haven’t worked with phyllo before, don’t be intimidated. Seriously, people run shrieking when it’s mentioned, but you’re just putting together ingredients someone else already took the trouble to make, so don’t be scared, there is nothing complicated about it.

Baklava

Syrup
2 cups sugar
1 cup water
Few drops lemon juice
1 tsp. rose or orange flower water (optional)

Combine sugar, water and lemon juice in saucepan. Boil for 10 minutes or until slightly viscous (225o). If using rose water, add it and bring the syrup just back to a boil before removing from heat. Let the syrup cool while making baklava.

Pastry
2 cups raw pistachios
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 tsp. cinnamon or more to taste (if you like rose water or orange flower water, use 1or 2 tsp. of one of those instead)
1 lb. phyllo dough, thawed if frozen
½ to 3/4 cup (1 to 1 ½ sticks) unsalted butter, melted (use the smaller amount first, and add if it runs out)
1 recipe syrup (see above)

Toast pistachios on a baking sheet at 350o until they are fragrant, 5-6 minutes. Let cool and chop finely (I use food processor). Mix with sugar and cinnamon or flower water. That’s the filling. Simple!

Preheat oven to 350o

Make clarified butter: Melt butter in a small saucepan and pour into a narrow jar or measuring cup so that the milk solids fall to the bottom and the clear yellow butterfat is on top. If you get the milk solids into the phyllo they can burn. Still nothing hard!

Unroll phyllo sheets onto flat work surface and cover with a barely damp towel, then re-cover whenever you’re not actually peeling off a sheet. You don’t want it to dry out or it will crack, but you don’t want it getting soggy either.

Peel off a sheet and lay it on your work surface or on a flat baking sheet. Using a pastry brush, dip into the clear part of the butter and paint the phyllo with it, covering surface completely. You’ll need to be gentle so the dough won’t tear, but this is not rocket science. In fact it’s art class! If it tears, don’t worry, you can hide it when you roll.

Lay another sheet over the first one, matching edges as best you can, but don’t sweat it. Paint this one with more butter.

With the short edge of the two buttered phyllo sheets toward you, pour a ½ inch line of the nut filling about an inch from the end nearest you (more if you want, less if you want, you can’t screw it up) and roll into a long, thin cylinder. Put the cylinder on a baking sheet (use one with a rim this time) and paint the cylinder with more butter to keep the exposed dough moist.

Repeat the process until the nuts are used up, melting more butter if you need to.

Bake baklava rolls about 20 minutes until golden. Take out of the oven and while still hot, pour the room-temperature syrup over, saturating each piece. When cool, cut into lengths you want to serve.

That’s it! It is so delicious, you will be hooked I promise. And it’s less complicated than baking and frosting a scratch cake. Give it a try!

Next month we’ll get back to the good old USA and start a great outdoor meal for summer.

Cheers and happy reading!

Isabel

Hello Blazers! Temperatures are rising, trees are budding, grass is greening, birdies are tweeting (no, not that kind), my Blaze, While She was Sleeping is on the shelves (Hint: probably not a good read for grandma) and spirits are up.

We move on to the next piece of our Lebanese meal. You can not think “food” and “Lebanon” without immediately conjuring tabouli. In fact, I wrote a short piece for my food-writing course which includes the recipe so I’ll be lazy and substitute that for a new blog piece today. Enjoy!

For two years before her death, my Lebanese grandmother lived with my family. We called her Teta, Arabic for grandmother. Convinced she had an ulcer, Teta restricted her diet to boiled and bland. Occasionally she allowed herself a taste of Lebanon (indicating the amount by pressing her thumb to the very tip of her finger): Hummus, halvah, and always tabouli.

Tabouli, the national dish of Lebanon, is not a beige, parsley-flecked wheat concoction as often presented in this country. It’s a parsley salad, vibrant green, mixed judiciously with bulgur, studded with tomato, fragrant with mint and scallions, enlivened with salt and drenched in olive oil and lemon.

In the era before food processors, tabouli was our special-occasion-only treat. While the finest grade of bulgur soaked, Teta and my father (full-blood Lebanese), my mother (Scottish-Canadian-American) and I would gather around the kitchen table to pick what seemed endless amounts of parsley. Washed and blotted, the leaves were then spread onto cotton towels to dry. Later we’d gather again, this time with knives (a small one for me) and cutting boards, and we’d chop. And chop. And chop. Parsley first, then mint (out of season we used dried) and scallions. “Is this fine enough, Teta?” She’d consider my effort seriously and either nod approval or shake her head and tell me to keep at it. “Little bit more.”

Chopping done, the magical moment when it all came together, Italian flag colors against the dark wood of the salad bowl used only for dinner parties and for tabouli. At meal time, we’d gather around the table in gleeful anticipation. Adults scooped with pieces of romaine lettuce; my brothers and I made “boats” using whole leaves, loaded bow to stern. The crunch was irresistible, the explosion of flavors addictive, the juice running down chins and forearms a necessary part of the experience.

Teta passed away, food processors came onto the scene, fresh mint showed up in supermarkets year round, salad spinners shortened drying time, and tabouli was demoted from special-occasion-only to whenever-we-felt-like-it. Dad used the magic of the Cuisinart to whirl ingredients to the proper fineness in seconds. I’d still watched him reverently pouring oil around and around the same dark bowl, lemon juice next, then salt, mixing, tasting, mixing. He’d consult me sometimes, “Does it need anything? Lemon? Salt? Oil?” I’d consider seriously and either nod my approval or shake my head and pick one. “Little bit more lemon.”

I now make tabouli alone in my kitchen. Only sometimes do I manage to capture my father’s skill with seasoning, but I always think back with wistful nostalgia to the days when three generations sat around the table with sharp knives and cutting boards, celebrating both family and culture.

Yet at dinner my sons, only one-quarter Lebanese, beam at me over their tabouli boats, juice running down chins and forearms, and I understand that I’m laying the groundwork for their fractioned inheritance to be passed, thriving, onto the next generation.

I feel Teta nodding her approval.

Tabouli

2 large bunches parsley (curly or Italian)
Fresh mint, about 1/4 of the parsley by volume
5 scallions
1 large tomato chopped into ½-inch dice
3/4 cup #1 bulgur (the finest grade)
Juice of 1 and ½ lemons
½ cup olive oil
1 tablespoon pomegranate molasses (optional)
salt and pepper
Inner romaine lettuce leaves for serving

Half a day ahead: Soak the bulgur in a medium-sized bowl with water to cover by a few inches for 4 hours (my dad does it this way, but I don’t think it needs this long). Pick and wash the parsley and mint, spin dry and let dry completely on cotton towels so the leaves will chop cleanly.

Cut scallions into 1-inch segments. Chop parsley (in batches) in food processor until finely chopped. Chop mint and scallions together until finely chopped but not mushy (about 30 seconds).

Drain off the top few inches of water from the bulgur. Pick up and squeeze handfuls dry, put into a large bowl. Mix in greens and tomatoes. Season with oil, lemon, molasses if using, salt (generously) and pepper. May be kept a couple of hours in refrigerator to allow flavors to develop. Take out an hour before serving.

Eat piling the salad into pieces of lettuce.

Greetings from Wisconsin which actually seems to be thawing at the moment. Winter rarely leaves without one last-laugh snowstorm, so I’m not relaxing yet, but it’s great to go outside without wincing.

I am actually writing a Blaze set in winter in Wisconsin, so it’s been timely. My poor hero has just moved from his home state of California and isn’t quite sure what hit him. My heroine of course, is happy to find ways to warm him up. I was feeling sort of punchy when making up their names: Candy Graham and Justin Case.

(Ba-da-BA)

Speaking of warming, we’re about to have a main course for our Lebanese dinner. This is a very easy and comforting lamb and green bean stew which is made unusual and slightly exotic by the addition of a touch of cinnamon. Spring is the best time for lamb of course, and about the only time you can find it here in Milwaukee, at least at my regular supermarket. This is pork and beef country. Sausage and cheese! But give this stew a try, it’s really good, and something different on the table while waiting for appropriate weather to fire up the grill. Amounts are to be played with to your taste. You can’t mess this up. Serve with rice and pita. Hummus is great on the same plate.

Lebanese Lamb and Green Bean Stew

2 lbs fresh green beans, tipped and tailed, cut into 2″ lengths
1 lb lamb shoulder (or if you can get a nice slice of leg, even better)
1 T olive oil (approx)
2 medium onions, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/8 tsp. cinnamon
Salt and pepper to taste
1 cup crushed tomatoes in tomato puree

Cut meat into 1-inch cubes, saute in oil in a large pot for 10 minutes. Add onions, garlic, cinnamon, salt and pepper, saute 5 minutes. Add 1/4 cup water and simmer 10 minutes, uncovered. Mix in beans and tomatoes, add water to ½ the depth of the mixture. Cover and simmer 20-25 minutes on medium-low until meat and beans are tender. Serves 4-6.

A great easy salad accompaniment, is sliced, peeled cucumbers mixed with yoghurt, salt and garlic and topped with fresh chopped (or dried crumbled) spearmint.

Enjoy!

Isabel
www.IsabelSharpe.com

Hello Blaze Babes! Happy February. Ewwwww. Okay, that’s not fair, but . . . ewwww.

So what’s better in cold, snowy weather than to sit indoors and eat?

Okay, maybe one thing. But not all of us have access to that 24/7. So let’s stick to food for now. Our Lebanese feast continues! This month I am going to offer a dish that will surprise and amaze all of you who think you don’t like eggplant. Or at least some of you who think you don’t like eggplant. Even better, this dish is loaded with complex flavor and has only five ingredients. Four if you don’t count salt, three if you don’t count olive oil. I can’t tell you how many confirmed eggplant haters this dish has converted. Even my kids. So those of you who love the stuff and are saddled with a family which doesn’t . . . give this a try.

Warning: This is another grandma recipe so amounts are going to be annoyingly vague. I’ve never measured and it’s never been bad, so just go for it.

One big eggplant.
Pure olive oil (don’t bother cooking with extra virgin, the added flavor is destroyed by heat so you’re wasting money. Save it for salad.)
Salt to taste
1 clove garlic, minced
Enough plain yoghurt (full fat is better, lowfat is fine) to coat eggplant (1/3 to 1/2 cup?)

Peel and slice eggplant into 3/8 inch slices (snort, get out those rulers, ladies). Either fry in oil in batches or brush each slice with oil and broil, turning once (brushing with oil again if you really like burning your fingers). The first method takes more time and more oil, but is delicious. The second is faster, fewer calories and tastes fine. Whichever you use, don’t call the slices done until they’re a nice dark brown. My grandmother always said come close to burning at least one or two slices for flavor. Not charred you understand, but don’t be scared of nearly-black on a few.

Stack the slices as cooked and slice them into strips, then across once or twice, so you have bite-sized pieces. In a small bowl, or in a mortar and pestle, combine garlic with salt—try 1/4 tsp. at first—and squish it around. The salt will act as sandpaper and turn the garlic into paste. Alternately, you can just put a bigger clove through a press and mix with salt. It wastes garlic, but it’s quicker. If you used a mortar and pestle, transfer garlic paste to a bowl, stir in yoghurt, then eggplant, add more salt to taste if you want. Garnish with chopped parsley or pomegranate seeds or nothing (it’s brown, though, so color is nice). Serve at room temperature or chilled, but if you let it sit too long the yoghurt gets watery, though it still tastes wonderful. Serve alone or scoop up with pita bread triangles.

Next month: a lamb, tomato and green bean stew. The month after that, my April Blaze is out. The cover is finally up on my website! . I really like it. The cover for my May Blaze (these are linked Wrong Bed books about two sisters with opposite personalities and attitudes about men), is up on Amazon.com. I think they look like they’re trying to eat each other, but . . . it’s not a bad cover either.

Wishing you all a happy February! Hope you had a super Valentine’s Day yesterday.

Here’s to romance and happy-ever-afters!

Cheers,

Isabel

Happy New Year to Blazing Babes, and how many of you have managed to screw up the 2010 part of the date a zillion times already? I think it will take me months to adjust.

I am thinking of signing up for a food-writing course, so maybe my blogs will improve over the next couple of months. Still haven’t decided. Do I really need homework on top of writing novels and raising kids and trying to have a social life? But if it’s about food . . .

Speaking of food (as if I’m ever not), I saw Julie and Julia and enjoyed it, mostly for Meryl Streep’s incredible portrayal. My favorite food movie of all time is still Babette’s Feast. Anyone have any others?

So I thought it would be fun to continue on an ethnic trend this month with a Lebanese dinner. Lebanese love to sit and talk, and they love to eat while doing it. My kind of people. When I was in Beirut in September, I had fresh pistachios right off the tree, not dried or roasted. You have to peel the outer fruit off. Inside, the nut is split already (I always thought that happened during roasting), the nut is moist and crunchy and the flavor is incredibly delicate. Every party I went to, I positioned myself next to the bowl and gorged. Total addiction. And speaking of pistachios, if possible get them from Iran or Turkey. They’re smaller, but much more flavor than those from California.

So for our Lebanese meal, let’s start with a dish I grew up eating which is mainstream now: Hummus! Forget the tubs in the supermarkets, you can make it yourself in about five minutes. This version is lemony and garlicky and very smooth.

Here are the instructions, just like my Teta (grandmother) used to make. Trust me, you can not screw up this dish.

1 can chick peas (I use Progresso), half-drained
Juice from one good juicy lemon.
3 soup spoons tahini (just plop them in. I’m guessing it’s about 1/4 cup, but I always measure this way)
1 clove garlic, minced or pressed, size according to your tolerance for garlic (mmmm)
Healthy pinch of cumin (1/8 to 1/4 tsp)
Extra-virgin olive oil for garnish
Paprika for garnish (optional).
Pita bread for serving

Save 5 chick peas for garnish, pour the rest into the blender with the half-can of liquid (just estimate, it’ll come out fine). Add lemon juice, tahini, garlic and cumin and blend until smooth. Pour into serving bowl, arrange whole chick peas on top and drizzle with olive oil. Sprinkle a little paprika on for color if you like. Scoop up with triangles of Pita. It’s also delicious as a dip for vegetables (carrots, snap peas, celery, carrots, peppers, anything really), and in a little East-Meets-West magic, Fritos corn chips are terrific with it too.

The high fiber in this dish makes it a smart choice with drinks because it slows the absorption of alcohol into your system. Just make sure if you’re on a hot date, you both eat it because of the garlic. Nothing less romantic than being the one who didn’t indulge . . .

So welcome to 2010! I’ll have linked Blazes out in April and May, can’t wait! The covers should be up on my website soon.

Cheers,

Isabel

Happy December from Wisconsin, where we are currently awaiting our first major snowstorm. Kids are hoping for a snow day tomorrow, and it looks like they might get one. By the time this runs we’ll have dug out already. Cross fingers that’s it for snow until Christmas.

Here in BlazeWorld, we’re about to finish up our Latin meal with a dessert I’ve tried and adored. According to Bon Appetit, it’s Andy Garcia’s favorite dessert. You could do a lot worse than think about Andy Garcia while cooking, so I recommend it for that reason if nothing else.

First I want to tell you about a dessert I had at a Latin restaurant in Dallas. Our own Julie Leto was there, and can attest to the fact that this was one awesome production. The best part was that the sauces were served to each person in tiny little pitchers. I was so enamored I went out and bought a dozen just so I could serve it that way at home. No recipe given here, use your favorites. Ready?

In front of each diner put a bowl heaped with vanilla or dulce de leche ice cream, then provide a pitcher of espresso, a pitcher of strong, dark chocolate sauce, and a little bowl of glazed, toasted pecans (with cinnamon if you want). People get to pour whatever combination of chocolate and coffee suits them (however often they want), sprinkle with pecans and dive in head first. It’s a fabulous, easy dessert, not sure how Latin, but who cares? Try it.

Now for our official dessert, a cream cheese flan. More depth and richness than regular flan, and soooo smooth and fabulous. The recipe calls for half a can of evaporated milk and then water. Most reviewers (I did it this way too) just eliminated the water and used the whole can of milk where called for.

Serve with fresh fruit, and try to keep the blissful moaning to a minimum.

Cream Cheese Flan

Until next month, when we’ll start a new menu for 2010!

Isabel

Hi, everyone, happy November! Here in Wisconsin the trees are bare, but it’s mild and pretty. Kids are into the swing of school (but still complaining) and Thanksgiving is around the corner. Here in Blazeland, however, we are not stressing over turkey and cranky relatives, but enjoying a hot tango beat while we dine with our equally hot Latin lover.

Last month we started with mojitos and mango pomegranate guacamole. We’ll keep this on the casual side with a one-dish meal from Cuba, ropa vieja. I had this in a restaurant in a quite different but equally delicious form from the one that follows, so I’m not sure if it’s typical, but this recipe from Cuisine at Home magazine introduced me to the fabulous combination of flavors and I am hooked. The dish manages to be complex and pure comfort food at the same time. Perfect for fall.

Don’t be put off by the long list of ingredients and steps. I’ve made the ropa vieja a day ahead up to after you stir in the masa harina and simmer 10 minutes. Cool and refrigerate, then the day you’re serving, mix with bacon and vegetables (keep them separate so the bacon doesn’t sog), reheat and top with the biscuit dough. Give it a try! You can serve it as is (all food groups represented!) or add a simple green salad on the side. Best of all, leftovers still taste great the next day.

Enjoy!

Isabel
www.IsabelSharpe.com

Ropa Vieja Pot Pies

4 slices thick-sliced bacon, diced
2 cups onions, diced
2 cups red bell peppers, diced
1 cup poblano chiles, seeded, diced
1 cup anaheim chiles, seeded, diced
1 tablespoon garlic, minced
1 1/2 lbs flank steaks, trimmed (seasoned with salt and pepper)
1 bottle beer (12 oz)
2 cups beef broth
1 T chili powder
1 T dried oregano leaves
2 tsp ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
1/8 tsp cinnamon
1/3 cup masa harina
2 cups roma tomatoes, seeded, chopped
1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained, rinsed
1/2 cup pimento stuffed olive, halved
Juice of 1/2 lime
Salt and pepper to taste

Directions

Line a baking sheet with foil.

Saute bacon in a large saucepan or Dutch oven over medium-high heat until crisp. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate and set aside.

Saute onion, bell peppers, chiles and garlic in bacon drippings until beginning to brown, 8 minutes; transfer to a bowl and set aside.

Cut flank steak into thirds and sear until browned, about 5 minutes per side.

Stir in beer, such as lager, broth, and seasonings; bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium-low and simmer covered 45 minutes.

Remove steak from pan, shred with 2 forks, and set aside.

Whisk masa into broth, bring to a boil and simmer to thicken slightly, 10 minutes.

Stir in reserved beef, vegetables, & bacon with remaining ingredients.

Divide filling among six 2-cup ovenproof dishes or ramekins (I put it in one shallow baking dish), transfer to prepared baking sheet and top with biscuit topping.

Biscuits

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup masa harina
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
6 T unsalted butter, cold, cubed
1 cup pepper jack cheese, shredded
1/4 cup scallions, sliced
3/4 cup whole milk
3/4 cup sour cream

Preheat oven to 400ºF.

Whisk flour, masa, baking powder, baking soda and salt together in a bowl until combined.

Cut in butter until pea-sized using a pastry blender or food processor, then stir in cheese and scallions (don’t use food processor for that).

Blend milk and sour cream in a small bowl, then stir into flour mixture just until combined. Top each pot pie with 3 golf ball-sized scoops of biscuit topping, or spoon mixture in small gobs onto baking dish.

Bake until biscuits are golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, 30-35 minutes. Let stand 10 minutes before serving to set up.

Greetings, and how nice to be right here at home today, so I can respond to people’s comments and enjoy this blog. Happy October! We start a new meal this month. I’ve selected a Latin theme for no reason other than I was thinking recently about a main dish I’d made that we all loved—it will show up soon! This is a cuisine that encompasses many countries and styles and I’m no expert by any means, so we’ll be exploring together.

To start, one of my favorite drinks is the now-ubiquitous mojito. Actually my favorite Latin drink is the caipirinha, but how many of us have sugar cane liquor lying around? (If you’re ever in a bar that serves them, however, definitely go for it.) Mojitos are easy to make, a fabulous mix of lime, mint and white rum. As fall’s chill hits the northern states, you can still enjoy the tropics in a glass.

Here is epicurious,com’s recipe, one I’ve tried and enjoyed:

Mojito

With the drink, which of course in your mind you are having on your private terrace overlooking Rio or Havana or Cancun, you can try the following, also from epicurious.com, which I have not tried but printed out immediately because pomegranates are in season now and because reviewers absolutely raved:

Mango Pomegranate Guacamole.

Two recipes in one blog! A good month all around. Keep reading Blaze and happy eating!

Isabel
www.IsabelSharpe.com