Thursday, April 30, 2020

Covid Cafe: Robin's Egg Blue

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

Our friend Connie delivers reading materials to older adults for the library in Libertyville. Deep bow for that, and especially these days when our older friends are virtually locked in their rooms.

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 
(click here to view in browser) 


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)


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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