Rapini for dinner, Rosie Jane 4EVR

an impromptu rapini-in-mouth self portrait popped out of my digi camera this evening. BTW, if you ever see rapini at a farmer's market, buy a bunch or two, and cook them with some Orecchiette pasta (the little ears)...De Cecco has some decent Orecchiette. The trick is to just cook the leaves and tender shoots, and to throw them in the boiling water after the pasta is about half way cooked. Then you just strain it all together, put it back in the pot, add olive oil and some pepper and then grate some parmesan cheese on top when you serve. and the leftovers (if there are any) will be even tastier the next day)

UPDATE APRIL 17: I forgot to tell you about the garlic oil. You saute 3 cloves of garlic in olive oil just till the cloves are between blonde and brown. At this point, toss the garlic and take the oil off the heat. when you've strained the pasta and rapini, pour the garlic-tasting olive oil on top. It adds a nice touch.



but the point of posting this pointless picture was to say that I would have much rather seen other pointless self portraits splashed across the New York Times web site today, than Bushie and Popie in various poses.

Bush brought us into an unnecessary and unjust war and the leader of a major religion doesn't call him on it...but they congratulate themselves for being anti-abortion...meanwhile shitting on all us living folks.

I think Malvina Reynold's song Rosie Jane sums it up right...be sure to read all the way to the end...

Rosie Jane

Notes: words and music by Malvina Reynolds; copyright 1973 Schroder Music Company, renewed 2001.

(if you've not heard the song, seek it out...it's great...and the lycrics will make more sense when you hear it...I couldn't find it on You Tube, but you can get it from the Smithsonian:


This song is addressed to my sisters.
Any man who is present may listen,
Any priest, any public official, any physician.
But it gives him no license to touch us,
We make the decision.
Me and Lydia, Josie and Rosie and Eve,
We handle this matter ourselves,
You'd better believe, or you better leave.


Chorus:
Rosie Jane, are you pregnant again?
Rosie Jane, you can hardly take care
Of the four you had before.
What in heaven's name were you thinking of!
Rosie Jane, was it love?


I had an extra shot on top of what I'd got,
In a word I was drunk, so was Bill.
At least I think it was Bill,
And I'd forgot to take my pill.
I guess it was God's will.


(Chorus)

When that baby is a child,
It will suffer from neglect,
Be picked upon and pecked,
And run over and wrecked,
And its head will be crowned with the thorn.
But while it's inside her
It must remain intact,
And it cannot be murdered till it's born.


(Chorus)