Vernon WadeThere are lots of cooks out there who actually know what they are doing. I pretty much taught myself to cook, out of necessity. I haven’t a clue most of the time, but I do love to eat. 

I have made everything posted here. If I can do it, you certainly can. Someday, if there is enough interest, I will gather all these recipes into a cookbook. In the meantime, in the spirit of dashes, dollops and three-fingered pinches, I present them here for you to try. Let me know what you think.

Winter WonderlandIt has been an unseasonably dry winter. Up until Friday, when it started to snow. It has been snowing all weekend. Sunday morning it cleared, revealing a sparkling winter wonderland. With no pressing need to go anywhere, most people elected to stay home, off the treacherously slick roadways; we fell in with the majority opinion and stayed put.

I put my free time to good use, improving the leads on my pulk by threading the cordage through a couple of five-foot lengths of ½” PVC. Amy and I took the dogs for a short walk to try out the modifications, with Walter pulling the sled.




  • Equal parts Drambuie and Scotch 

  • splash of bitters 

  • twist of orange 

  • candied cherry 

  • ice to suit

I made a few adjustments, spreading the shafts so they wouldn’t rub on Walters hind legs. Then we set to work. I loaded the pulk with firewood and Walter hauled it to the front of the house, where I unloaded it and stacked it in the wood box, We took a couple of loads to the porch and hauled a load up to the back door so I could stack it next to the stove to dry, ready to stoke the fire as the day drew to  a close. I released Walter from his harness and Amy shut him in the laundry room to dry off. I asked her to give him praise and treats for a job well done. He greedily ate the cheese she offered him, but still bitterly resented his incarceration.

I sympathized with him, I really did. I was looking forward to my own praise and treats, having replenished the fire-box with wood for the next anticipated storm. Instead I was scolded for tracking snow in and not cleaning up after myself.

Chastened, I shook the doormat off and swept the snow out the backdoor before retiring to the library with a Rusty Nail. If I must provide my own praise and treats, then so be it, I shall.

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