I’ve made this recipe for so many years that I’ve lost the recipe but know it by heart. It comes from the old Lazarus store before it was Macy’s. Before everything became Macy’s. Lazarus used to have a small cafe on the second floor, hidden behind the little boy’s section. Why there, I never could figure out. But, they had the best soup and always served a couple of small squares of their homemade zuchinni bread along with it. It was sweet and dense, with bits of carrot in it. The original broccoli soup had cheese in it, but I’ve always excluded it. I didn’t think it needed it. It’s best when you add finely chopped fresh tarragon to it, just as it’s finishing off. (Look for the recipe in the Menu section.)
He’s really quite harmless.
Had prepared a fruit plate, including these and sliced red-skinned pears, for violin girl’s youth orchestra winter concert Sunday. Hadn’t seen her since Friday when she got picked up by her bandmates for two concerts in the snow-covered West Virginia hill country. So glad to see her walking on stage to take her seat–2nd chair, 1st violin. Finally.
This used to house our old analog t.v. and several others over it’s 13 year life. But, our coats were in desperate need of proper housing, given that the 5-year-old moving clothes box provided little room and visual appeal in our front entry area.
So, off I went to Pier I to fish for a suitable replacement on which to carry our new Black Friday t.v. and found this:
So hubby could do this:
Hubby spent one of his hunting days to knock out the guts and put in a coat rod. I wonder if this would have been his lucky day to have shot a deer. None of the others were. Although, I must admit, I don’t care much for venison. No matter how hard I try to hide the potent taste with all kinds of flavorings, it’s still deer meat. Too bad for me and good for him, we’ve got a neighbor who’s an excellent marksman. Neighbor likes to supply hubby with some of his deer trophy meat. And this year was no different.
The boys brought home something better than venison. Leftover pizza from a Sunday evening visit with their Aunt Cindy in the snow-covered Southern Ohio hill country.
Can’t wait for more.