Sunday, June 7, 2020

Covid Cafe: Dinner Saturday Night

Hello, chefs of Covid Cafe, and thanks for your continued interest in sharing what you're preparing. Jon from Indy returns today with a mouthwatering Saturday night meal, complete with cocktail. Do you have a favorite Covid cocktail? Send it to us!

Jon writes: Tonight's dinner consisted of salad with tomato, spring onion, artichoke, and feta. Bone in, skin-on, grilled chicken thigh with Sadistic Mistress East African Rift/Berbere Spice (ed note: that sounds crazy--click here to see more), shaved (on a mandoline) and roasted sweet potato, and lima beans.

I'm including last night's cocktail, an Aperol Spritz (click here for the recipe).  

 (Leaving for Indy now for leftovers please...)

A new Banksy

© Reuters/@BANKSY INSTAGRAM An artwork by Banksy is seen in this image obtained from his Instagram account

Link you'll love
Check out Food52’s 10 Black Food Bloggers to Follow. Or just stick around since Covid Cafe will be featuring them in the coming days, starting with Jenné Claiborne's Sweet Potato Soul.
Claiborne's video is delicious, with ideas for vegans, yes, but even for we who are dedicated carnivores and everyone else who wants to shop smart. She even includes recipes.
Vegan Meal Prep on $35/week Groceries 
6 Tasty Vegan Recipes

After this last week, we might need another cocktail. Click here for her Mezcal WatermelonMargarita (whoop! Covid Cafe special today).



Dogwood Blossom
by George Marion McClellan

To dreamy languors and the violet mist
Of early Spring, the deep sequestered vale
Gives first her paling-blue Miamimist,
Where blithely pours the cuckoo's annual tale
Of Summer promises and tender green,
Of a new life and beauty yet unseen.
The forest trees have yet a sighing mouth,
Where dying winds of March their branches swing,
While upward from the dreamy, sunny South,
A hand invisible leads on the Spring.

His rounds from bloom to bloom the bee begins
With flying song, and cowslip wine he sups,
Where to the warm and passing southern winds,
Azaleas gently swing their yellow cups.
Soon everywhere, with glory through and through,
The fields will spread with every brilliant hue.
But high o'er all the early floral train,
Where softness all the arching sky resumes,
The dogwood dancing to the winds' refrain,
In stainless glory spreads its snowy blooms.

Dusty in Nashville says: one red raspberry. 
Already matched last year's harvest!


Billy Porter 

For What It's Worth

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