RDJ-- Fish Fillets With Sour Cream Sauce, 02-12-00
Recipe du Jour
Feb 12, 2000 08:40 PST
Volume 3 Number 37
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FISH FILLETS WITH SOUR CREAM SAUCE
1/3 cup dairy sour cream
1/4 cup mayonnaise
2 tbs thinly sliced green onion
1/2 tsp minced garlic
1/4 tsp dried thyme, crushed
1/4 cup ReaLemon Lemon juice from Concentrate
1-1/2 lbs skinless salmon, or other fish fillets, 3/4-inch thick
1 tsp instant chicken bouillon granules
For sauce, combine sour cream, mayonnaise, green onion, garlic, and thyme in
small bowl. Stir in 2 tbs of ReaLemon; set aside. Rinse fish; pat dry. Cut
into 6 serving-size pieces. Bring 1 cup water to a boil in a large skillet;
stir in bouillon granules and remaining ReaLemon. Reduce heat; carefully add
fish. Cover and simmer 6 to 9 minutes or until fish flakes easily when
tested with a fork. Remove fish. Serve with sauce. Yield: 6 servings.
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AT THE MIDDLE PASSAGE
By Walter Mills
The Old House
This year we will celebrate the 100th anniversary of the old house in
Spring Mills by trying to get some of the wallpaper down from the ceilings.
In these winter days buffeted by snow storms we spend a good deal more time
than usual growing intimate with the personality of a house that has been
lived in continually for a century. We see the place where water seeped in
sometime in the past, spreading a large stain across the corner of the
bedroom ceiling. When we all lie huddled under the covers on a Saturday
morning, the 3-year-old points to the concentric brown rings and calls it a
There are nails in all sorts of various and unexpected places, and I often
wonder what was hanging from them back when the old owners of the house were
alive and making decorating decisions. Did old Mr. Zettle hang his overalls
on this big nail on the wall of the closet when he came in from planting the
sweet corn that he grew in terraced rows at the foot of Egg Hill? I have an
image of him with a carpenter's tool belt around his waist with a hammer
always to hand in case a nail needed pounding. Maybe instead of dropping
his clothes on the floor as men used to do before they were denied such
basic freedom, he put up a nail wherever he happened to undress and hung his
clothes there, kind of like Johnny Appleseed only with 3-penny nails
sprouting up instead of apple trees.
In the old days carpets and heavy drapes blocked out the cold of winter in
the drafty houses. When we rolled back the carpets we discovered the floors
around the edges had been stained and polished, but the wood floor covered
by carpet had been left in its natural bare state. It must have made sense
to people 100 years ago who expected they would always need a rug in every
In that late leftover Victorian time large floral wallpaper and heavy
patterned curtains all were jumbled with multicolored rugs in a way that
seems clashing to modern senses. The Zettles, both of whom lived into their
90s, were born at the turn of the century, and they must have been
comfortable with the tastes of an earlier time. We have taken down the
drapes, rolled up the rugs and painted the walls off white.
There is a barn behind the house with the feed troughs still intact. It
is the turn-of-the-century version of the two-car garage, room for a horse
or two and a wagon with a second story for hay. It is just a place for the
average family to store their everyday transportation in the year of 1900.
I have a 1981 Toyota Corona with a dead battery stored in ours.
At times we become exasperated at the inconvenience of a house built so
long ago. It could use another bathroom, a bigger kitchen. Sometimes I
call it funky house, or house of dark shadows. But most days, like an aging
relative full of years, the house talks to me and I listen to its stories
told in nail holes and peeling wallpaper. I stuff rags in the whistling
windows, put lamps in the dark corners, and we mutter together.
This town, like many other small rural towns, was really made for another
era. It was laid out for walking, stopping to talk to neighbors, sitting
out on the porch. It was made for a time when kids went down to the creek
in summer, instead of to the mall. It really moves best at the pace of a
horse clipclopping along, and so it is not out of place to see an Amish
buggy slipping up Water Street.
When the winter is over and the windows are open to the fresh spring
weather, the house comes alive, like a young maiden pinning flowers in her
hair. In the days of her youth she waved at wagons on the road, and
whistled at the trains in the Rising Springs station down the hill. But she
is a hundred years old now, and her joints creak in the winter wind.
(The above column originally appeared in the Centre Daily Times and is
copyright © 2000 by Walter Mills. All rights reserved worldwide. To contact
Walt, address your emails to firstname.lastname@example.org)
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Do you remember?
Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
(words and music by Graham Nash)
I'll light the fire
You place the flowers in the vase that you bought today.
Staring at the fire for hours and hours
While I listen to you play your love songs all night long for me,
Only for me.
Come to me now
And rest your head for just five minutes
Everything is done
Such a cozy room
The windows are illuminated by the evening sunshine through them
Fiery gems for you.
Only for you.
Our house is a very very very fine house
With two cats in the yard
Life used to be so hard
Now everything is easy, 'cause of you
I'll light the fire
While you place the flowers in the vase that you bought today.
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