Good day, chefs of Covid Cafe, and especially thanks for sending us recipes great and small. If the pandemic is making you feel a little blue, let it be robin's-egg blue. We found this nest in the arms of our small crab tree this morning. You might recall that several days ago this perfect nest was empty, which shows you how quickly things can change.
It feels like a miracle but it's just nature going about her business, more now than ever since the world of human getting and spending has gone largely still.
Tiffany blue
Connie wrote to tell us about her Rosemary-Garlic Chicken Thighs: This sheltering in place is extremely difficult for our home-bound seniors. I call my patrons weekly and they are going stir crazy and feel so isolated. I'm grateful to be able to walk outside and blow off a little steam in my kitchen.
So I found five chicken thighs in my freezer. I also had a small bag of little potatoes that were beginning to sprout and needed to be used.
Searching through my recipes, I found one for rosemary garlic roasted chicken with green beans. Lucky for me, my grocery pre-packaged the green beans and I had a massive bag of them. We have a rosemary plant that moves from the patio in the fall to our sun porch in the winter so the herb wasn't an issue either.
I decided to roast the potatoes with just some salt, pepper and olive oil since my oven was going to be on for the chicken. The recipe called for eight shallots, but since I only had one I substituted a red onion.
(Beautiful, Connie. Substitution is the name of the game.)
Are you moving enough?
That's what I wondered while watching this, sent by PK
Music
Renata Flores, 19, is part of a
generation of Peruvian musicians combining the bouncing beats of Latin trap,
rap and reggaeton with the sounds, and language, of the Andean countryside.
(click here to view in browser)
Poetry
Boy and Egg
Every
few minutes, he wants
to
march the trail of flattened rye grass
back
to the house of muttering
hens.
He too could make
a
bed in hay. Yesterday the egg so fresh
it
felt hot in his hand and he pressed it
to
his ear while the other children
laughed
and ran with a ball, leaving him,
so
little yet, too forgetful in games,
ready
to cry if the ball brushed him,
riveted
to the secret of birds
caught
up inside his fist,
not
ready to give it over
to
the refrigerator
or
the rest of the day.
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