Stroud’s Rule Breaking Gumbo Right off, I’ll tell you the closer you live to Louisiana, the less you’re going to like my gumbo. Yes, it is absolutely delicious, but gumbo eaters from Louisiana, Mississippi, and even East Texas have unbreakable rules. Rule number 1: You begin by making a roux. A roux is at least a cup of flour and the same amount of oil/butter, cooked until the mixture is the color of an old penny. I forget the other rules…oh yeah, you have to use green bell pepper and sassafras bark. In a bow to tradition, I did use a little bit of sassafras bark, but that’s not really necessary. You want to put some bark in your bite, you’re going to have to go to a health food store. And by the way, one of the traditional ingredients of gumbo, sassafras leaves, is now on the FDA’s carcinogen list. But, I used dried sassafras bark. Not knocking it, but making roux with a cup of oil/ butter, and a cup of flour will overload my delicate figure, put me in the Clydesdale division and make my talking scale scream “One at a time, please!” Fortunately, for me and my group of three faithful readers, I’ve found an option so flavorful you’ll be shouting, “Screw the roux!” And even those folks from New Orleans will be congratulating you and buying the drinks. Stroud’s Rule Breaking Gumbo 1 Sweet onion, diced 1 Bell pepper, diced (I use a yellow bell pepper) 2 Stalks celery, diced 1 Potato, diced 2 Green onions, chopped 4 Cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced 10 oz Smoked sausage, cut in thin rounds. I found a local source for smoked sausage, but you can use Andouille or Kielbasa or any other sausage with a smoky flavor. 1 lb Shrimp, peeled, tail off, chopped in two or three pieces depending on the size of the shrimp 1 Can fired roasted diced tomatoes, undrained 4 Cups chicken broth, plus 1 cube 2 Heaping tablespoons Creole mixture Note: Some Creole mixtures are quite salty. Taste before you add more salt. 1 Teaspoon sassafras bark (optional) Got mine at a health food store. Black pepper to taste 2-3 Shakes red pepper flakes 3 Tablespoons rice flour, diluted with enough water to make a paste. 3 Tablespoons olive oil 2 Chicken thighs, cooked, then skin discarded and meat picked off the bone 1. Slosh the olive oil in a large pot with a lid. When the oil is hot, add the vegetables, except for the diced potato. 2. When the onions are translucent (about 5 minutes), add the sausage, the chicken bits, and garlic. Stir well. 3. Add the Creole seasoning and other seasonings and stir, then add the tomatoes, chicken broth, potatoes, and half the chopped green onions. 4. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover and cook until the potatoes are tender. Stir in the rice flour and water mixture to thicken things up a bit. Now add the shrimp. When the shrimp are pink, they’re done and so is the gumbo. 5. Serve over rice or plain, with the remainder of the green onions sprinkled on top. I served mine plain, which makes me a conscientious objector to rules in general, recipes in particular and gumbo specifically. But, rather than saying “Rules are made to be broken,” I prefer just to ignore them. Sometimes the results are delicious! Now, I’m going to pop the cap on another Abita Beer, brewed in Covington, Louisiana. Not ALL rules are made to be broken.
We never knew how desperate we were to own a red belt until we saw the Stroud. Because if there ever was a perfect red hue, this is it.The Stroud belt is lovely and skinny, to slip through those belt loops or even as a feature on your favourite dress or blouse. With nickel hardware to contrast the vibrant red colour, Stroud is crafted with impeccable detail seen in every stitch, as all M.Hulot pieces are.SizeSlim 1.5cm wide leather comes in three different lengths so you can find your perfect fit:* S - 72.5cm at shortest, 87.5cm at longest. Adjustability in between.* M - 82.5cm at shortest, 97.5cm at longest. Adjustability in between.* L - 92.5cm at shortest, 107.5cm at longest. Adjustability in between.LeatherThis product is made from deliciously grainy vegetable-tanned Italian leather. Variations in the leather are an inherent feature of this natural material and should be embraced as contributing to the unique nature of the product. The leather will mark and change colour easily and over time, taking on a rich and characterful patina, growing more and more interesting with every wear. It is advised to add a leather food to the product a few times a year, or when needed. This keeps the product supple and stops it from drying out, as well as evening out any stains. We recommend waterproofing your bag before use. The M.Hulot studio is now based in semi-rural Cambridgeshire. Perfectly placed for a slower way of life. All M.Hulot leather pieces are made right here in good ol’ England, put together by very talented craftspeople and finished by hand. M.Hulot work very closely with each maker, merging the sampling and design process into one, bouncing ideas and techniques between designer and maker, to give you unique and beautifully finished designs.
With its reputation for ‘alternative’ lifestyles, left-field Stroud is like nowhere else in Britain
We never knew how desperate we were to own a red belt until we saw the Stroud. Because if there ever was a perfect red hue, this is it.The Stroud belt is lovely and skinny, to slip through those belt loops or even as a feature on your favourite dress or blouse. With nickel hardware to contrast the vibrant red colour, Stroud is crafted with impeccable detail seen in every stitch, as all M.Hulot pieces are.SizeSlim 1.5cm wide leather comes in three different lengths so you can find your perfect fit:* S - 72.5cm at shortest, 87.5cm at longest. Adjustability in between.* M - 82.5cm at shortest, 97.5cm at longest. Adjustability in between.* L - 92.5cm at shortest, 107.5cm at longest. Adjustability in between.LeatherThis product is made from deliciously grainy vegetable-tanned Italian leather. Variations in the leather are an inherent feature of this natural material and should be embraced as contributing to the unique nature of the product. The leather will mark and change colour easily and over time, taking on a rich and characterful patina, growing more and more interesting with every wear. It is advised to add a leather food to the product a few times a year, or when needed. This keeps the product supple and stops it from drying out, as well as evening out any stains. We recommend waterproofing your bag before use. The M.Hulot studio is now based in semi-rural Cambridgeshire. Perfectly placed for a slower way of life. All M.Hulot leather pieces are made right here in good ol’ England, put together by very talented craftspeople and finished by hand. M.Hulot work very closely with each maker, merging the sampling and design process into one, bouncing ideas and techniques between designer and maker, to give you unique and beautifully finished designs.
The Red Oxen, Zum Roten Ochsen This was my first visit to The Red Ox (Rote Ochse) in the ancient city of Heidelberg, in the southwest of Germany, straddling the river Necker. Ancient? The word barely covers it. Prehistory: Between 600,00 and 200,000 years ago, The Heidelberg Man died nearby. His body was discovered in 1907. Romans? Of course, until 260 AD, when Germanic tribes took over. Celts? Yep Byzantine Empire? Check. Old news, right? Can’t connect those with anything? Let’s step forward a few years. Invaders and conquers by the numbers. Thirty Years War. France took over. The Swedes took over. Back and forth for centuries. Visit the famous Heidelberg Castle and see how Louis XIV’s army used gunpowder to make one of the massive turrets come crashing down. Enough about war. The city has a population of around 160,000, with a quarter of them students. The University of Heidelberg was founded in 1386, making it the 20tholdest university in Europe. (First is the University of Bologna, Italy, 1088; second is Oxford, England, 1096.) That brings us to The Red Oxen, Zum Roten Ochsen, over 300 years old and long known as a student drinking and driving dining hangout. For the last 175 years it’s been owned by the Spengel family. Still is. A few hundred years of student drinking has left it’s marks and blemishes. But, that only adds to the flavor of this fine old restaurant. Over 400 photos cover the walls and every wooden table is a mosaic of carved initials. The walls hold initials, too. On shelves above sit rows of drinking mugs. All the table tops are like this. Seating is bench style, so you'll likely be seated with random strangers. As you can imagine, famous footstep have trod the wooden floors and famous hands have lifted a flagon or two, from poets and painters, to political figures and well known scientists, along with Helmut Kohl, a former Chancellor of Germany and Mark Twain. In Twain’s case, I’m told he drank at the Red Ox and later wrote about his German adventures. And what is true about Heidelberg is true wherever you go on this side of the Atlantic. Something in Europe always fascinates, and nothing fascinates me more than the deep and endless wells of history that make the present seldom what it seems. You see a church and catch a date, but it’s only a date, without the benefit of knowing how people lived and what they celebrated and what they suffered. There is no ‘simply now’ in Europe. The faces of the old folks share even more modern history. Can you peer through the wrinkled skin, the thinning hair, now gray and disheveled? Do you bother to ask, or perhaps you fear the old don’t speak your language. And what about the history of people and places who came before them? It’s been said many times, when an old person dies, a bit of history dies with them. We’re left with only books that describe the stone and bricks we see, mere skeletons of the past. Even within the very old faces, if we’re lucky we can barely peel back one layer. The history we think we know is only a thin coat of scratched and peeling paint. Still, we try to know. The other night, our foray into the sprawling old city along the river, was only a soft step into the historic dust trod by thousands of students and professors and invaders. But by now, most of you, and also the most clever will plead: Forget all that dusty history stuff and tell us about the damn food! Executive summary: Delicious, both food and drink. Read on only if you have time. My companion ordered a plate of smoked salmon, smoked trout and pickled herring, with a stylishly mixed salad and a bowl of country style potatoes, which the Germans call Brotkartoffeln, or bread potatoes. I had pork steaks in a rich, dark beer gravy and a side of crispy French fries. I’ve found the Germans use beer in their cooking as often as the French use wine. Both give such a full, rich flavor to any dish. She drank a half liter of alcohol free beer and I had a glass of half-dry white wine. Yes, white wine. I’ve long since thrown off the dictates of those who know what they’re talking about and choose to wallow in the ignorance of my own preferences and taste buds. A word about German alcohol free beer: Delicious, with robust flavor, but with slightly sweeter notes. And as I wrote earlier, all was rich and delicious, but there’s more. If you’ve been to Germany and seen how Germans put away enormous quantities, you know we must have been sated. Well, yes, but….still room for dessert. A lavish platter of house made ice creams, chocolate mousse, and a slice of apple strudel, with a dollop of the richest whipped cream. Coffee? Hell yes. Two cups of double espresso, please. Around us, conversation buzzed and the service of the matronly staff was impeccable. Our server didn’t just speak tolerable English (as opposed to my intolerable German), she spoke perfect English. Speaking of English, and by that I mean the Queen’s English, I’d say we had a jolly evening, and a wonderful repast in a fine old restaurant, which sits on a narrow cobblestone street. Yes, we fully enjoyed the taste and aroma and surroundings of historic Heidelberg. Prost!
We never knew how desperate we were to own a red belt until we saw the Stroud. Because if there ever was a perfect red hue, this is it.The Stroud belt is lovely and skinny, to slip through those belt loops or even as a feature on your favourite dress or blouse. With nickel hardware to contrast the vibrant red colour, Stroud is crafted with impeccable detail seen in every stitch, as all M.Hulot pieces are.SizeSlim 1.5cm wide leather comes in three different lengths so you can find your perfect fit:* S - 72.5cm at shortest, 87.5cm at longest. Adjustability in between.* M - 82.5cm at shortest, 97.5cm at longest. Adjustability in between.* L - 92.5cm at shortest, 107.5cm at longest. Adjustability in between.LeatherThis product is made from deliciously grainy vegetable-tanned Italian leather. Variations in the leather are an inherent feature of this natural material and should be embraced as contributing to the unique nature of the product. The leather will mark and change colour easily and over time, taking on a rich and characterful patina, growing more and more interesting with every wear. It is advised to add a leather food to the product a few times a year, or when needed. This keeps the product supple and stops it from drying out, as well as evening out any stains. We recommend waterproofing your bag before use. The M.Hulot studio is now based in semi-rural Cambridgeshire. Perfectly placed for a slower way of life. All M.Hulot leather pieces are made right here in good ol’ England, put together by very talented craftspeople and finished by hand. M.Hulot work very closely with each maker, merging the sampling and design process into one, bouncing ideas and techniques between designer and maker, to give you unique and beautifully finished designs.
Sweetly fragranced Rose Geranium soap handmade by Soap Folk in their Stroud Valleys studio. A rich velvety lather and the heavenly scent of organic rose geranium essential oil, a truely luxurious soap, handmade by Soap Folk in their Stroud Valleys workshop. A blend of red and white clay gently cleanses the skin whilst creating a dusky pink blush. This natural soap bar is handmade from a blend of nourishing plant oils and butter using a traditional cold process method in our Stroud Valleys workshop Each bar of soap is made using traditional cold pressed methods and individually wrapped in beautifully designed plastic free packaging. NO detergents, SLS, alcohol, parabens, sorbates, silicones, sulphates, preservatives or artificial fragrances More details... 105g bar. 9cm x 6cm x 2cm. 100% ethically sourced ingredients Vegan and Vegetarian friendly soaps Palm-Oil free Cruelty Free, never tested on animals.
About Siberian Eskimo people were introduced to tobacco in the 17th century, acquiring it from European traders in exchange for furs. Pipes based on European models, such as this example, came into use soon after. With its strong, graceful curve, pewter detailing, and shaped tin bowl, this pipe offers a delightful expression of Arctic tobacco culture and a Fine addition to any collection of tobacciana.
Sweetly fragranced Rose Geranium soap handmade by Soap Folk in their Stroud Valleys studio. A rich velvety lather and the heavenly scent of organic rose geranium essential oil, a truely luxurious soap, handmade by Soap Folk in their Stroud Valleys workshop. A blend of red and white clay gently cleanses the skin whilst creating a dusky pink blush. This natural soap bar is handmade from a blend of nourishing plant oils and butter using a traditional cold process method in our Stroud Valleys workshop Each bar of soap is made using traditional cold pressed methods and individually wrapped in beautifully designed plastic free packaging. NO detergents, SLS, alcohol, parabens, sorbates, silicones, sulphates, preservatives or artificial fragrances More details... 105g bar. 9cm x 6cm x 2cm. 100% ethically sourced ingredients Vegan and Vegetarian friendly soaps Palm-Oil free Cruelty Free, never tested on animals.
I’m invited to a wedding. Former love. Not recently, although that might be fun in a perverse way. For me, when it’s over, it’s over. No looking back. The day before the event, I find myself with a quiet moment, snapping through the pages of a magazine at a downtown coffee house. Sipping, dreaming. I catch a flash of color and I stop and flip back several pages. A woman. Not a real woman, but an artist’s rendition. Beautiful. I’m spellbound. I’m a dreamer by nature and this is worth a long dream. What makes me notice the curve of her body, the position of the hands, the far away look? Is she a dreamer, too? A fellow romantic? What’s sexy about the woman in the magazine? She’s not real. An irresistible allure captures me. She’s not naked. Nothing so blatant. I’m romantic, not blurry-eyed. Some have whispered, “foolishly romantic,” behind my back. I hear them. Noted. The wedding is a glorious success. The weather turns a tad cold for late May, but no rain. After the ceremony, guests retreat from the garden into the spacious, high-ceilinged ballroom. Long tables are laden with noshes. Round tables, white linen covered, are spaced around the room. I scan the crowd and see no one I know. Along the way, I chat with a few guests. Shake a few hands. Compliment the bride and groom. The bride looks at me a little wistfully, or at least I think so. She adores roses. I sent her a dozen yesterday. I like motiveless gestures. Very freeing. Across the huge dance floor, close to the cream colored wall and apart from the crowd, I catch a glimpse. The woman I spy is something like that magazine drawing. When she cocks her head and brushes back a lock of hair, I notice her slender neck. A body with gracefully soft curves. Her hair is on the short side, much like the drawing. Just long enough to move a bit when she speaks. She’s chatting with another woman. The red lipstick on full lips carves an image on my tender imagination. There’s a rather suave man standing nearby. Well cut gray suit. Regimental striped tie. Expensive black wingtips, well polished. He’s good looking, but with a stern finish. Power, if I had to guess, which I do. The power of the boardroom. The twin faces of Janus, aphrodisiacs, power and confidence. Half a head taller then I am, yet about the same as my 160, he exudes both. But, the curl to his lips is somehow off-putting. Chiseled features, like a male model, but not quite to that standard. He yawns and doesn’t cover his mouth. Bored and gauche. Now he looks around the room. Our eyes meet briefly in passing. So much for her date. What’s the first thing I notice about a woman? Her age. That’s not a judgment and not exact. This woman I’d place about mid-thirties. Her escort is maybe twenty years older. Next? Her eyes. Comes as a shock, n’est pas? Well, ok, I stand corrected. I can’t see her eyes from here, or not the color. But, I can tell they’re lively. And, when it’s a woman whose breasts arrive a couple of minutes before the rest of her, the eyes are overlooked and everyone in the room, including the marble statues gives a stare. But, really, how often do you see that? Anyway, women pay much more attention to their breasts, and everyone else’s breasts, than men do. Fact. Men are simple. Women seem obsessed with their bodies. Much more than men. I mean it. They know every vein, every bulge, everything that in their eyes shames them with imperfections. This woman doesn’t seem to share that handicap. She’s relaxed, comfortable. Men are also obsessed, but not in the same way. I find myself noticing bulging waists, sunken chests, skinny necks, anything that could give me a clear advantage in the hunt. But, I’m the first to admit, I could never guess what’s on a woman’s mind, or how she might judge a man. We’ve all seen gorgeous women with lesser partners. My guess is, attraction is seldom as physical for a woman as it is for a man. The look that gets to me is the promise of surrender, but easy does it. Romance. Don’t be in a hurry. Tease me, please me. The woman in the drawing is like that. Shows nothing. Promises everything. From across the room, the woman glances my way. Was I staring too much? Bad habit. A stare is ok. A lengthy stare screams perv. I look down at my shoes, then refocus on another part of the room. Nice party. Da. Da. Da. Count of three and I steal another glance. I quickly scan another direction, then down at the empty ice cubes in my glass. They tinkle just a bit when I swirl them. Time for another bit of Scotland. The ballroom bar overflows with the thirsty minions. No matter. Drink or no drink is all the same. Someone sidles up beside me. I barely notice. I’ve tried the 10 year old unpronounceable. The Scots and the Celts use too many freaking consonants. Don’t even mention the Welsh. It was watery to begin with. The ice made it worse. “What are you sipping?” the voice beside me purrs. She. ‘Haven’t the faintest. Single malt, or so they tell me.” “I’m drinking a Gimlet. Ever had one?” Her voice is musical. “No….don’t believe I ever had…have…no.” “Gin. Sweetened lime juice. Sugar. Ice. Simple.” She smiles and the stars come out of the dark night. “My mother’s favorite.” She leans forward when the bar keep asks for her order. The bosom of her dress falls ever so slightly forward. I can’t quite see her nipples, but god knows I try. She looks toward me. “Aren’t you going to have anything?” As if she doesn’t know I was looking. “Another of these,” I say and let it go at that. “Are you a friend of the bride or groom?” she asks. She’s casually slipped her arm through mine and we’ve moved away from the crowd at the bar, back toward a corner. The good-looking, tall guy is nowhere to be seen. She lets her arm drop and glances around the room, then back at me. “Groom,” I say. “He’s in the same office and married the woman I dated for three years.” She laughs. “Really?” “No, it was closer to two.” She laughs again. “Looks like we have something in common.” She winks. “My fiancé ran off with his ski instructor.” “Was she cute?” “He,” she deadpanned. “Unlucky all ‘round.” “Well, you’re in luck this time.” I smile. She takes a sip of her Gimlet and I focus on the slim fingers and bright red nails lightly holding the stem of the glass. “Want to dance?” she murmurs, putting her drink politely on the small, white-linen covered table and reaching for my hand.” The band, which happily plays everything from hip-hop, to fifties rock, to Mozart’s Klein Nacht Musik, is currently on a waltz theme. We waltz. We chat. The music changes to a very slow version of ‘ Save the Last Dance for Me,’ and her cheek almost touches mine. I can feel the warmth. The music stops. “Well,’ she says finally, “This has been nice.” From behind me I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn. It’s the tall guy with the chiseled chin. “Oh, hi, darling,” she says. “Time to go already?” He smiles and nods. “It was really good to meet you,” she says and shakes my hand, lightly. Her fingers linger just a touch longer than they should. He doesn’t seem to notice. I watch them leave. Just before she walks through the double doors, she pauses and doesn’t look back, but places her gently folded napkin on the round, waist high table. The band is playing “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.” The Platters did it better. There’s ice in my glass, but the liquor’s only a memory. I wait a decent amount of time, to see if by some miracle she’s headed back into the ballroom. Then, I wander toward the double doors and casually pick up the napkin and put it in my suit pocket without looking. Tease me, please me. No wonder she reminded me of the woman in the magazine. Shows nothing. Promises everything.
So many epic adventures await!
A California art print on Arches watercolor paper. 100% archival, and printed in HD. The original work of art is an acrylic and collage on paper.
“Teaching” by Brad Betts – Image: DownEastGalleryFacebook Brad Betts is usually known for painting waterfront scenes… boats, ships, water… The above painting “Te…
Historic early plains indian Ute beaded choker elk's tooth, red stroud, early blue and white beads
David Gandy talks exclusively to Red about business, Beckham and Britishness...
David Gandy talks exclusively to Red about business, Beckham and Britishness...
About Plateau fully beaded flat bag with floral design on blue background. Edged in red stroud, back in green stroud, flour sack lining. Collected early, put away, mint, unused condition. Ex. Blakeley. Period: circa 1900 Origin: Plateau Size: 12" x 13". Native American, Beading, Beadwork, Floral, Bag, Red, Blue, Plateau Indian
Sarcoscypha occidentalis, commonly known as the stalked scarlet cup or the western scarlet cup, is a species of fungus in the family Sarcoscyphaceae of the Pezizales order. Fruit bodies have small, bright red cups up to 2 cm wide atop a slender whitish stem that is between 1 to 3 cm long. A saprobic species, it is found growing on hardwood twigs, particularly those that are partially buried in moist and shaded humus-rich soil. The fungus is distributed in the continental United States east of the Rocky Mountains, Central America, the Caribbean, and Asia. It is distinguished from the related species S. coccinea and S. austriaca by differences in geographical distribution, fruiting season, and fruit body structure. Phylogenetic analysis has shown that it is most closely related to other Sarcoscypha species that contain large oil droplets in their spores. The species Molliardiomyces occidentalis is an imperfect form of the fungus that lacks a sexually reproductive stage in its life cycle.
Consider the Stroud the Taylor Swift of the shirting world: it never goes out of style. It's cut from soft needlecord to a classic fit with vintage buttons. Available in two covetable colours, that's your weekend packing sorted.
Headdress Anonyme - Anonymous Eastern Woodlands Aboriginal: Iroquois? 1775-1800, 18th century Deer head skin with antlers, tanned hide and thongs, porcupine quills, eagle and owl feathers, down,...
What is like like if you are born with albinism? Clover Stroud talks to three women about a condition which can be physically debilitating, psychologically traumatic, but also fiercely empowering
David Gandy talks exclusively to Red about business, Beckham and Britishness...
