RDJ-- Sesame Orange Chicken, 07-31-12
Aug 01, 2012 08:12 PDT
Volume 15 Number 133
US Library of Congress ISSN: 1530-3292
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Sesame Orange Chicken
2 tablespoons sesame seeds, toasted
1 tablespoon grated orange rind
1/4 teaspoon salt, divided
Dash of ground red pepper
4 (6-ounce) skinless, boneless chicken breast halves
2 teaspoons canola oil
1 teaspoon butter
1 cup fat-free, less-sodium chicken broth
1/3 cup orange juice
1 tablespoon whipping cream
Combine sesame seeds, rind, 1/8 teaspoon salt, and pepper in a food
processor; process until the mixture resembles coarse meal.
Place each chicken breast half between 2 sheets of heavy-duty plastic
wrap; pound to 1/4-inch thickness using a meat mallet or rolling pin.
Sprinkle chicken evenly with 1/8 teaspoon salt.
Heat oil and butter in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat until
butter melts. Add chicken; cook 6 minutes on each side or until done.
Remove chicken from pan; keep warm.
Add ground sesame mixture to pan, stirring with a whisk. Add broth, and
bring to a boil, scraping pan to loosen browned bits. Cook broth mixture
until reduced to 2/3 cup (about 3 minutes). Add orange juice and cream;
cook 30 seconds, stirring constantly. Serve sauce over chicken. Makes 4
Amount per serving
Calories from fat: 30%
Saturated fat: 2.5g
Monounsaturated fat: 3.4g
Polyunsaturated fat: 2.2g
By Walt Mills
Summer Light in a Southern City
Most summers for the past ten years my family has headed south into the
heat to spend a week with relatives and visit the ocean or sightsee in
the cities that Sherman visited before us. This year we made the trip
again, this time through a 12-hour rainstorm that followed us down
through the ridges of central Pennsylvania, falling and falling toward
West Virginia and into the Shenandoah Valley, framed by the Blue Ridge
Mountains to the east, misted in rain.
At our furthest point south, we arrived in Savannah, Ga., the city that
Sherman did not burn on his march to the sea. The homes in the historic
district where we stayed were numbered with the year of their
construction in the early 1800s and the names of their original owners.
It was all live oaks and Spanish moss, cobblestone streets, gas lamps,
and an endless stream of sightseeing buses and horse-drawn tourist
We walked the historic streets in the heat of the day, wilting under
100-plus temperatures and greenhouse humidity, drooping like pale
northern flowers. The free DOT buses passed and we boarded them to
escape the heat, taking the circuitous route through the old town, down
the precipitous slope to River Street along the Savannah River, cotton
warehouses on the bluffs above.
Savannah is a city of endless town squares, green spaces with fountains
and statues, shaded by spreading trees draped in beards of moss. In the
early morning we walked through the squares and along Jones Street,
called by locals the prettiest street in Savannah. Residents walked
their dogs under the canopy of leaves or washed the sidewalks in front
of the iron railed porches. It was a lovely street, not a street of
mansions, but of old, narrow houses side by side. I imagined we could
live there happily, up the stairway, behind the dark green door.
Savannah is also a city of artists and art galleries. The Savannah
College of Art and Design sprawls across several blocks downtown, and
the cafes are filled with student art. In the galleries we saw painters
from across the South, most of them painting southern scenes of swamps
and fishermen, old black men and one pump gas stations on country roads.
The paintings sold for a few hundred dollars up to a thousand or two.
Too steep for us in these lean times, but reasonable enough that someday
I imagined we might take one home.
I thought of my cousin Joe the painter, who could easily have sold his
work in these galleries. Instead he painted for forty years and hoarded
his paintings away in back rooms of a house that has now fallen down --
his beautiful and meticulous paintings of the Everglades and the
Miccosukee Indians, paintings now destroyed by time and rain, and the
delicate pencil drawings on parchment turned to dust. I thought how his
life had seemed futile to him in the end, and his great talent had
brought him only hard times. I imagined that he might have lived in a
house on Jones Street and taught at the art college, if he had not
surrendered to his multiple demons.
Savannah is a city of ghosts, with the tours to prove it. For a few
hours, walking through rooms of paintings I desired but could not own, I
was haunted by unfulfilled promise and beauty squandered, by the ghost
of someone I had admired and too long forgotten.
Read more of Walt's writing at his blog:
(The above column is copyright © 2012 by Walter Mills. All rights
reserved worldwide. To contact Walt, address your emails to
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I'm sad for all the people that don't have the opportunity to shop at a
Trader Joe's. For those of you that do, you must try their Spinach &
Kale Greek Yogurt Dip. This is sinfully delicious and is, as the label
reads, "Reduced Guilt" with only 30 calories and 2.5 grams of fat per
serving. I love it on top of a boring grilled chicken breast (I
seasoned the chicken with a mixture of sea salt, ground black pepper,
dried oregano and garlic powder). This stuff is addictive.
Sharon in Arizona
This is in response to the recommendation for International Coffees Iced
Coffee blend. I, too, enjoy flavored creamers in my hot coffee. I do not
purchase the expensive liquid creamers very often, as my budget is
pretty tight most of the time. However, I did splurge recently, and
purchased the Great Value brand (Walmart) Vanilla Caramel liquid
creamer. Yum! It reminds me of Creme Brulee' flavored creamer my mother
used to purchase, and I believe it was the International Coffee brand.
I find that most items in the GV line are fine, and you pay so much less
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Lisa B. email@example.com
Do You Remember?
The Toys 1965
Denny Randell/Sandy Linzert
How gentle is the rain
That falls softly on the meadow,
Birds high up the trees
Serenade the clouds with their melodies
Oh, see there beyond the hill,
The bright colors of the rainbow.
Some magic from above
Made this day for us just to fall in love
Now, I belong to you
From this day until forever,
Just love me tenderly
And I'll give to you every part of me.
Oh, don't ever make me cry
Through long lonely nights without us.
Be always true to me,
Keep this day in your heart eternally.
One day we shall return
To this place upon the meadow.
We'll walk out in the rain,
See the birds above singing once again
Oh, you hold me in your arms,
And say once again you love me,
And if your love is true,
Everything will be just as wonderful.
You'll hold me in your arms,
And say once again you'll love me,
And if your love is true,
Everything will be just as wonderful.
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