| UF alum cooks for canines
Most working stiffs would probably prefer to wind down at the end of a rough week with a Bud Light, not a non-alcoholic brew that strengthens their joints and makes their hair extra shiny.But for frequenters of the Friday night Yappy Hour at Sweet Paws Bakery, Haile Village Center's newest dog bakery and boutique, the latter alternative is their beverage of choice.This pooch hooch is one of many refreshments Colleen O'Fallon serves at her bakery's weekly dog social hour. Her all-natural homemade treats, the bakery's chief selling point, are also in hot demand. .
Something's cookin' in the I.E.
At this school, you don't give your teacher an apple. No, you give your teacher a caramelized apple crepe with smoked Gouda. Or a buttered rum apple fritter with orange sauce. At this school, you don't eat a sandwich and banana out of a lunch box. No, you dine elegantly on rack of lamb with mint sauce, baked polenta with a tomato reduction sauce, and grilled artichokes. At this school, you don't have food fights. You have cook-offs. Welcome to the new International Culinary School at The Art Institute of California - Inland Empire, located just off Hospitality Lane in San Bernardino. If anyone needs additional proof that the Inland Empire has become a destination dining capital, here it is. We are enjoying the best work of today's best chefs, at exquisite restaurants throughout the region.
Jill Sobule column companion piece
This came back in the days before MTV was a fixture in every home, and I remember seeing the clips be-tween movies on HBO or Showtime. The “Mister Sandman" clip was a mime of a performance, with the singer and others dressed in 1940s-style garb, which was cute. I half-paid attention, knowing the song and not being impressed with miming. Harris, as an Andrews Sisters-style singer, was romancing a soldier in the clip. But as “Mister Sandman" ended, its closing note cross-faded to a minor-key chord, taking me a little by surprise. Snapshots of a wedding between Harris and the soldier character came up on the screen, followed by more family scenes, each showing a little more disenchantment. Then came a performance video of Harris' “I Don't Have To Crawl," which opens with the lines: When you look at me like you don't know me And you talk to me like you've never met me Later, Harris sings, “If I wanted to I could be long gone, and I don't have to crawl." It was chilling and breathtaking and all of the things unexpectedly great art is supposed to be.
Seasoned to taste: Smoked Paprika Roasted Salmon with Wilted Spinach
Six more weeks. Or so the groundhog says. Even if you don’t believe in the prognostications of small mammals and simply look at the calendar, there’s one conclusion that’s pretty undeniable: Spring is still a long ways away. So there are many gray days yet to come.In the midst of this monotone month, we need to spice things up — and to add some bright color to our midwinter blues, while we’re at it. So what could be better than the appearance on the grocers’ spice shelves of a new version of an old standby: paprika?"Paprika?" you ask. Yes, paprika. Or perhaps more accurately, "si, pimenton." Because what’s newly available in these parts is the smoky, savory paprika that’s been a significant spice in Spanish cuisine since the 17th century. This ain’t the basically tasteless stuff your grandma sprinkled on deviled eggs.
Louise Aldrich Bugbee Wrote Well-Liked Column in Gazette
Louise Aldrich Bugbee, whose columns about the Island she so loved enlivened the pages of the Gazette for more than 30 years, died on Sunday in Crystal River, Fla. She was 94. She expressed that love in her writing about cooking, cats, nature, her neighbors on Circuit avenue in Oak Bluffs and in the Camp Ground — and in virtually anything else that captured her fancy. Over the course of three decades, Mrs. Bugbee wrote some 1,500 On Circuit Avenue and All About the Town and On My Mind columns. As recently as three years ago, she was still writing them, remarking tartly (but with tongue in cheek) that she was jealous of the Louise Aldrich Bugbee Orchid that her orchid-growing son had named for her. "I’ve worked hard, committed no crimes, accepted a few favors, but never asked anyone to earn my living for me — then that parasite stole my name and will keep it long after anyone remembers me," she wrote on her typewriter.
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