Egg, Bacon, and Leek Pie
The school year has begun and many places have a potluck to convince parents to help with
the various activities held throughout the year. Since there is a natural competition especially
between mothers this is not the time to bring bean dip or take-out from the Whole Foods
Market. You can have everyone raving with this simple Irish pie from County Clare. Make
a second one for home use and serve it with a nice Syrah.
6 Servings
1 refrigerated piecrust (half of 15-ounce package), room temperature
1 teaspoon all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) butter
2 cups chopped leeks (white and pale green parts only)
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
6 slices bacon, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
3 large eggs
2/3 cup whipping cream
1/3 cup milk
1/4 teaspoon salt and pepper
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
Procedure needs to be followed at all times. The first step is to open the wine bottle
and pour a glass. Now, you are ready to begin
Preheat oven to 425F. Pierce crust bottom all over with fork. Bake until pale golden,
about10 minutes. Set aside. Reduce oven temperature to 400°F.
Melt 2 tablespoons butter in heavy, medium skillet over medium heat. Add leeks and
parsley; sauté until beginning to soften, about 3 minutes. Spoon mixture into crust. Cook
bacon in the same skillet until crisp. Using a slotted spoon, transfer bacon to paper towels and
drain. Sprinkle bacon over leeks.
Beat eggs, cream, milk, salt, pepper, and nutmeg in small bowl to blend; pour into crust.
Bake pie until filling is set in center, about 25 minutes.
And now a lesson about love from my cats--Samantha and The Mitzer
We are most alive when we’re in love.
John Updike
Chapter 6
Love Is Overrated
It starts when we are teenagers. We see someone that we
like, and we can’t think about anything else. Our bodies tingle when we see
this person. We can’t sleep. Our thoughts only focus on this special one. We
become jealous because this individual can’t spend every waking moment with us.
Even though it may be just physical attraction, we proclaim from the rooftops
that we are in love and then proceed to do crazy things. This condition may
occur several times during our lifetime and it is always hard to overcome. What
is this thing we call love?
Samantha needs to be loved. So, I’m sitting on my recliner
and watching Jeopardy, totally
relaxed with a glass of wine. All of a sudden, Samantha has to jump up and sit
on my lap and purr very loudly. It’s so bad that when the Mitzer in sitting on
my legs, Samantha will come and sit on my chest. Of course, when the commercial
comes on, I decide to take a bathroom break, and I move the Mitzer to the couch
without incident, but Samantha screams. This also happens when I’m sitting in
my office chair—she has to jump up on my lap. At night, she has to sleep next
to me. I sleep on my back and Samantha sleeps on my right side, facing the
bottom of the bed. My hand sits on her back. It must be that she loves me
dearly.
However, when I am not available during waking hours, she
jumps up on my wife’s lap and the procedure is repeated. The cat always has to
have someone touching her.
The thing we don’t understand is that when we have company—especially
someone that doesn’t like cats—Samantha jumps into his or her lap. She acts
like a cheap whore, and we are embarrassed. This behavior became so bad that we
consulted an expert. The reason, it seems, is linked to another common cat
behavior. When cats discover a new piece of furniture or enter a room for the
first time, they will brush along the walls and go up, down, around, behind and
underneath everything in sight. While the uninitiated might interpret this
in-depth maneuvering as mere curiosity, the cat is actually marking its
territory.
This territorial nature is also what drives cats to rub up
against any and all visitors who enter their home. (They will also often go to
the trouble of “reclaiming” their own people when they’ve been around other
cats.) What might seem like a “welcoming home” ritual is, in reality, a way of
making their owners and everyone else around them the cat’s personal property.
When I heard about this concept, I was devastated. I thought
that Samantha and I had a very special relationship, but her affection was all
about marking her property. We men are very aware that many women complain that
their husbands treat them as objects, and so we take special precautions to
keep this from happening. Now I know that is exactly how my cat feels about me.
I don’t feel special anymore—I am just an object. However, my wife doesn’t feel
this way. She is sure that Samantha is different from the other cats.
My wife has a strange view about love. On Monday night for
two hours, she is glued to the television, watching The Bachelor or The
Bachelorette. In these shows one woman (Bachelorette)
or one man (Bachelor) has to whittle
down a field of twenty-five men or women to find perfect love. For fourteen
weeks we (not by choice, for me) watch as the main character reacts to persons
of the opposite sex in some of the most romantic places in the world. The
background music enhances the event, and at some point, the main character has
kissed all of the contestants.
Finally, the group gets whittled down to the final four, and
the production crews move to the hometowns of this group so that the main
character can meet the families. There is a date, and the main character can
take each of the four contestants into the fantasy suite where they spend the
night without cameras. The main character then picks the perfect person, and at
the last minute in some incredibly romantic place, the bachelor proposes to his
future bride or the bachelorette accepts the proposal from the man that is left.
The whole thing is so wonderful, and the chat boards are busy because everyone
has an opinion about who should get the ring. This is a true affirmation that
romantic love exists…until you look at the statistics.
There have been 19 seasons of The Bachelor and only two
couples are still together. As for The
Bachelorette, it has been on for ten seasons and only three couples are
still together. This shows that something else was going on instead of true
love.
My cats have the right idea: what looks like love may not be
love at all. So, if you are a man and meet your “true love,” keep your wallet
in your pocket until you are absolutely sure that it’s love.