Book review: The Farseer trilogy

Short review:  Thumbs-up!

Longer review: One of the nice things about owning a Kindle is how Amazon tries to sucker you. Yes, I mean that!  And more times than not, I am duly suckered.

You see, Amazon periodically offers books for free.  They’re typically books by prolific authors, or the first book in a trilogy or series.  The business folks are hoping that you’ll read the free book and be inspired to buy other books by the author.

That’s how I stumbled upon Assassin’s Apprentice, by Robin Hobb.  (Sorry, it’s not free anymore!)  Shortly followed by Royal Assassin and Assassin’s Quest.*

The trilogy centers around Fitz, the bastard of a noble prince who abdicates his status as heir to the throne when the child is brought to light.  Naturally, this opens the way to wrangling over who will inherit the throne.  Fitz — a likable protagonist with enough character flaws to make him seem real, yet sympathetic — struggles to learn, struggles to grow up, struggles to survive, in a power structure where he has as many enemies as allies.

Add in mind-magic and beast-magic — animals play a large part in all three books — along with heroes and a classic villain, and you’ve got a story sufficient to make me delay cooking my shrimp and grits** until eight o’clock at night.  (I had to know if they lived happily ever after!)

Bottom line:  An entertaining series, well worth the money (especially since I got the first one free), and I’m considering buying more from the author.

*Ever notice how certain words, when typed or spoken too often, become funny-sounding and weird in your mouth?  Like “assassin.”  Or “daughter” or “fund” or “laughter.”  Or maybe that’s just me

**Cajun shrimp with bell peppers and tomatoes, served over grits made with chicken broth and a bit of cream, and melted-in smoked gouda.  Thank you Pampered Chef!

Sigs and Torture

Or rather, “Torturing Sigs.”

My daddy always said that the main reason he has a Glock is that you can freeze it in a bucket of water, thaw it the next day and it will still shoot.

Well, what if you freeze it in a bucket of water, drop it from five stories, light it on fire, and blow it up with Tannerite?  After having run them over with tractors and whaled on ‘em with baseball bats, naturally.

“Hell and back reliability” indeed!

(h/t Mike)

A challenging and very rewarding concert

I love Christmas concerts.  I love the beautiful, soaring melodies of Mendelssohn, the lilting prettiness of Berlioz, and the triumphant celebration of Handel.  I love the procession down the aisle and the sing-alongs with the audience.  I love that the solemn and/or celebratory nature of the music is as accessible to an agnostic like myself as it is to a devout Christian.  I love that Christmas music is . . . . comprehensible?  approachable? to the average Joe off the street; you don’t have to understand major versus minor or tritones or counterpoint to enjoy the carols.

And that last bit opens the way for non-traditional concerts.

Last night my choir continued its 25-year tradition and performed a mini-Christmas concert at a well-known school catering to blind people.  We had their choir of fifteen singers, mostly teenagers, join us onstage for a carol written by their music director, and to sing a Spanish Christmas carol of their own.

It’s not every concert that has a five-minute break so that designated choir members can descend from the stage and assist the school singers up the stairs.  I learned from my charge, a sweet and friendly girl named Boyana, that I’m supposed to let her grab my elbow, rather than my taking her hand.

It’s not every concert that you have constant audience, er, participation.  I was pleased that it didn’t bother anyone one bit; we kept singing and smiling without missing a beat.  No one cared how loud the outbursts became.  It wasn’t important.

It’s not every concert that you’re humbled and honored to perform with some of the nicest kids I’ve ever met, singing for an extremely appreciative and complimentary audience.

I am reminded anew how lucky I am.  I’m so grateful for my body’s health and the health of my family. I’m thankful that I can negotiate stairs and buses under my own power.  I’m happy that I can hear music, taste coffee, feel kitty fur, and smell the roses.

And I’m grateful for the lesson in grace I received yesterday.

Into each life some rain must fall.  When it does – I hope like hell I react with as much dignity and grace as the folks I met yesterday.

Amen.

Range Report: Fisher Cat versus Mosquito

Battle info below the fold!

There are none so blind . . .

. . . as those whose power has gone out.

My timing was extraordinarily good yesterday; I had drunk my coffee, finished showering AND done my makeup before the blackness hit.  It wasn’t too bad inside the apartment; we’ve got two sliding doors in the living room that provided a decent amount of daylight.  We dug out flashlights and Mike shaved by candlelight (while I fluttered nearby and begged him not to cut himself).  Sure, I had to select an outfit with no ironing required, and we tried to keep the fridge closed as much as possible, but it wasn’t a big deal.

Getting OUT of the apartment, on the other hand . . . I opened the door and the hallway was completely black.  I snapped open my cell phone to light my way to the staircase, which was also completely pitch-black.  (So much for emergency lighting.  We learned later that the Kitty Den *does* have a backup generator.  Which did not click on.  Useful backup, there.)  I gingerly negotiated the stairs with a lit cellphone and a hand on the banister; thank goodness we live on the second floor.

Happily, the power went back on perhaps twenty minutes after I left, which meant that Mike was able to get the car out of the garage.

I know, I know, this post is extremely boring.  I don’t pretend otherwise.  I’m groggy and drinking coffee as fast as I can!  Late to bed and early to rise, makes a girl stupid and blind in the eyes . . .

Range report: Slick shot edition

Mike says . . .

Lissa’s Recipe File: Herb-topped tomatoes

Good morning all! Yes, it’s MORE foodblogging.  Shut up!  I like food!

(I seriously do.  Food descriptions are some of my favorite passages in books.  The caviar-chicken scene in The Bell Jar, the food descriptions laced through James Herriot’s books — I love reading and re-reading them.  Comfort food without the calories!)

As I’ve said before, my mom is a fantastic cook.  She serves up way, way too much food when she has guests and then we eat all of it because it’s all delicious.  Goat-cheese-olive-and-anchovy-topped puff pastry, spinach-and-artichoke dip, jalopeño cheddar, brie, and more . . . . and this was BEFORE the turkey dinner!

I was leaning against the kitchen counter chatting with her as she prepared one of the simpler sides, the tomatoes pictured here:

Well, to be honest, hers were prettier than that — she minced up the onions way smaller than I did  (I’ll have to work on my mincing technique) and used less topping, so hers didn’t look oozy the way mine do.   Anyway, she minced red onion and curly parsley then marinated them in Zesty Italian dressing.

That’s all.  She mixed onion and parsley with dressing then spooned it onto tomato slices.  And holy COW was it good!!  It was pretty and colorful and tasted fresh and tangy and seemed WAY fancier than I’d have thought!

The other stuff on the plate is pan-fried mozzarella.  Adapting a recipe from my Pampered Chef cookbook — and you really should buy that book, it’s awesome — I sliced fresh mozzarella and dredged the slices in flour, egg and then a mixture of crushed almonds, Panko and Parmesan cheese.  I laid them in heated olive oil and cooked two minutes on each side.  It was delicious, but super-rich; the bright and tangy tomatoes were the perfect foil to the savory cheese.

Sadly — well, happily for my figure — I didn’t get apple pie for dessert, because I pawned that off on LilBro 1 to take back to college.  College-aged boys eat like NOBODY’S BUSINESS, y’all

Happy Hump Day!

Lissa’s Recipe File: Mom’s Apple Pie

Quick, simple, and oh-so-delicious; what more could you ask?

Preheat oven and remove dough from freezer.  (You purists who make your own dough – well, you have my admiration.  Me, I’m cool with the store-bought stuff.)  I use a deep-dish 9″ pie shell, and I buy the Pillsbury refrigerated pie dough to top it with.  The pie shell needs to sit fifteen minutes at room temp before baking; prick all over bottom and sides, then bake at 375° for 7-8 minutes.  (The pastry dough needs to sit at room temp for fifteen before you bake the apples.  If you don’t plan for this, you will sit around with your sliced apples waiting for pie dough . . .  as I did . . . )

Peel 7-8 medium golden delicious apples.  (If the apples are ginonormous you can reduce to 5-6.)  Core and slice apples; toss with 1/2 to 1 tsp lemon juice to keep from browning.  (If you’re using very tart apples, such as granny smith, skip the lemon!)

In small bowl, mix 2 tablespoons flour, 1/2 tsp cinnamon, 1/4 to 1/2 cup sugar (depends on how sweet you like your pie and how tart your apples are) and a bit of fresh grated nutmeg if you have it (I used powdered).  Toss with apples.

Pour apple slices into pie shell; arrange them so they form a rounded mound with a hollow dip in the center.  Dot with butter, then top with pastry dough.  Prick dough with fork and cut an inch-long X in the middle; push down flaps so the dough forms a small open area in the center.

Cover the edges of the pie with foil.  Bake at 375° for 40 minutes or 350° for 45 minutes, removing foil halfway.  As soon as that hollow middle bubbles up with frothy juice, remove to cooling rack.

You can serve it warm with ice cream, but it’s just fine without — good enough to lick the plate!

Happy Baking!

A Yank attempts Southern gravy

Well, I’m sort of a Yank, anyway.  I was born in Texas and lived seven years in Maryland before moving to MA (and doing college in NC), but most of my cooking experience is Yankee-style.

So I needed the step-by-step details and pictures from FarmMom before I could attempt a real milk pan gravy:

Copying Roberta X, the first thing I did was fry up four slices of bacon. While that was cooking up, I microwaved two salt-and-peppered chicken breasts till they were just-cooked-through.  The bacon migrated to a paper-toweled-plate — it might have lost a slice in the process — and the chicken got a quick bacon-fat-sear on both sides, giving it a nice golden brown color and a smoky savory taste.

I popped the green beans in the microwave (tossed with a bit of butter and a half cup of sliced almonds) and got to work with the gravy.  Thanks to FarmMom, the consistency came out pretty good, but it was rather bland (since I hadn’t fried spicy chicken in it).  I fixed that with salt, pepper, seasoned salt, a bit of Montreal Steak Seasoning and some cayenne pepper — delish!

The green beans came out (next time I’ll cook them a minute less) and I crumbled the bacon across the top.  Voile!

Finished off with homemade apple pie!  And that was so good I licked the plate.  Seriously.

The only sad thing was that no one was here to share my lovely meal . . .

P.S.  No, just kidding. This was my first time for the pie, the gravy and that style of green beans.  Since Mike is out of town so often, I prefer to experiment on myself first.  That way, if anything sucks no one else has to eat it!

P.P.S.  I used whole Lactaid instead of whole milk.  My digestive system gratefully thanked me.

P.P.P.S.  There was a lot of gravy left.  How well does that reheat?  Anyone know?

Range Report: Awesome Target Edition

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!  On Thanksgiving Day I gave thanks for friends and family, who love me unconditionally.  I was too busy giving thanks by feeding C and baking bread and pie and stuff like that to post, but I’m also thankful for my readers — who encourage me, challenge me, and accompany me on this awesome and silly journey called LissaLife.

And now — the big reveal!  Story and picture below the fold: