lovin’ chicken spaghetti

Bawk bawk!

*scatters feed*

Excuse me while I wiggle my wattle and fluff up my feathers. Just exercising a little poultry pride, cause I finally made Chicken Spaghetti!

See, when I first came online in 2007, reading all the cool kidlit blogs and learning who’s who and what’s what, having an inkling that I’d somehow like to stir in a few vittles with my books, the blog, “Chicken Spaghetti,” caught my attention right away. I learned it was written by Susan Thomsen, who once worked for the New Yorker, published this most excellent article about Poetry Friday with the Poetry Foundation, and eventually went on to also blog for PBS Parents’ Booklights. And yes, dang it, she lived with two chickens (and two cats and a snake)!

I’d eaten a lot of chicken dishes in my time, but had never heard of Chicken Spaghetti — *pause while 80% of Americans gasp* — not once. You’d think since I live in Virginia (and by all accounts, CS is a Southern dish), someone, somewhere at sometime would have mentioned it. Or brought it to a neighborhood potluck, anything. But lo and behold, I remained a Chicken Spaghetti virgin right here for close to 30 years. One could say I’d never been plucked. Till now.

*prance, peck, preen*

Shortly after discovering Susan’s blog, I promised myself I would try her recipe, cause it’s pretty much my job to investigate these things and make the necessary sacrifices on your behalf (hee!). You know, just in case you’re a CS virgin too.☺

I’ve since learned it’s quite the beloved casserole, comfort food at its easiest and most satisfying, forgiving when it comes to variations and experimentation. Key ingredient? SOUP! Cluckity cluck!

We’ve all grown up with cream of mushroom soup something — throw it into tuna casserole, pour it over pork chops, an easy way to make scalloped potatoes. Susan’s recipe calls for cream of mushroom and cream of celery (isn’t she brazen?), with black olives and pimiento. I don’t know, whenever I hear the word, “pimiento,” I feel I should don a smoking jacket.

Not having one handy, I wore my “Babette Eats Oatmeal” black t-shirt, polka dot capris, green Merrell clogs and set to work. The recipe suggests using a pre-cooked deli chicken as a shortcut, but I felt it would be easier to poach a couple of breasts rather than debone an entire chicken. Once you chop up the onions and peppers and pre-boil the pasta, you pretty much just combine everything and then bake.

Just in case you’re wondering why Susan named her blog Chicken Spaghetti, here’s what she said:

I love that casserole; there are many versions. When I first thought of starting a blog, I was going to devote it to the various incarnations of the casserole but realized that would get boring fast. When I was growing up, chicken spaghetti, always served with spinach/mandarin orange salad (with poppyseed dressing), was a popular ladies’ lunch at church and such. I kept the name when I decided to write about books because it was kid friendly and reminded me of my Southern childhood.

CHICKEN SPAGHETTI

1 medium onion, chopped
1 medium bell pepper, chopped
3 T butter
1 chicken, cooked, deboned and diced (grocery store deli chickens work great)
1 can (10-3/4 oz.) cream of mushroom soup
1 can (10-3/4 oz.) cream of celery soup
1 jar (2 oz.) pimiento, drained
1 jar (2-1/2 oz.) sliced mushrooms, drained and chopped (I sauté fresh ones)
1/2 can (6 oz.) black pitted olives, drained and chopped
1 package (16 oz.) long spaghetti, cooked
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. pepper
1 cup grated cheddar cheese

Preheat the oven to 375. Sauté onion and bell pepper in butter. Then pour in the soups, pimientos, mushrooms, chicken, olives, and spaghetti. Season with the seasonings. Put the melange into a large casserole dish. Top with cheddar cheese. Bake at 375 for 45 minutes, or until cheese is nice and melted.

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Yum! This is a big recipe and we enjoyed the leftovers for days (of course there’s just two of us here, but if you have a big family, it’ll probably disappear instantly). Make it soon if you haven’t tried it yet — will really hit the spot on a cool Fall day.

♥ Check out some variations on this recipe here.

♥ Some of my favorite posts from Chicken Spaghetti: her famous “Best of” Book Lists, Poetry Friday, and her musings about real chickens! I think she lives with three chickens now: Lovey, Queen Elizabeth III, and Loretta Lee II.

Lovey, Queen of the Coop

Thanks so much Susan (pick a little, talk a little, cheep cheep cheep)!

Imagine that! Now I can say I’ve made Chicken Spaghetti’s Chicken Spaghetti! I’ve finally arrived, y’all . . .☺


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Copyright © 2011 Jama Rattigan of Jama’s Alphabet Soup. All rights reserved.

thanks, diane mayr!

The lovely Diane Mayr (she of the Poetry Potluck Almond Bars), sent me this cool haiga on my blog birthday Thursday. Wonderful how old photos can spark a few poetic lines, or inspire a new story. Just look at those faces! *wheels turning*

Circa 1913, Library of Congress

Check out more of Diane’s haiku and haiga at Random Noodling.

Thanks, Diane!

Copyright © 2011 Jama Rattigan of Jama’s Alphabet Soup. All rights reserved.

 

just for fun: laughable liffs for lunch

#32 in an ongoing series of posts celebrating the alphabet.


MsBlueSky/flickr

Liff (lif) n. A common object or experience for which no word yet exists.

I’m guessing there are an infinite number of liffs floating free in the world, just hoping someone exceedingly clever will chance along and name them. Two clever someones, Douglas Adams and John Lloyd, compiled the first humorous dictionary of liffs back in 1983: The Meaning of Liff, followed by a revised and expanded edition, The Deeper Meaning of Liff (1990). Along with these “no name” objects, feelings and situations, Adams and Lloyd also noted “thousands of spare words which spend their time doing nothing but loafing about on signposts pointing at places.”

Words like Dunfish, Jeffers, Knaptoft, Ranfurly. They were real places, but who ever heard of them? Better yet, who’d ever think of visiting them? Why not match these place names with a needy liff?

Our job, as we see it, is to get these words down off the signposts and into the mouths of babes and sucklings and so on, where they can start earning their keep in everyday conversation and make a more positive contribution to society.

Thought you might enjoy a Sampler Platter of Liff Lunchables, à la Adams and Lloyd. All but a couple are food related; I’ve added a few extras to compensate ☺. Nibble on them, maybe give them a good chew (you’re bound to chuckle). There’s plenty to go around!

ABINGER (n.)
One who washes up everything except the frying pan, the cheese grater and the saucepan which the chocolate sauce has been made in.

BECCLES (pl. n.)
The small bone buttons placed in bacon sandwiches by unemployed guerrilla dentists.

CROMARTY (n.)
The brittle sludge which clings to the top of ketchup bottles and plastic tomatoes in nasty cafes.

DUDDO (n.)
The most deformed potato in any given collection of potatoes.

EPPING (participial vb.)
The futile movements of forefingers and eyebrows used when failing to attract the attention of waiters and barmen.

FINUGE (vb.)
In any division of foodstuffs equally between several people, to give yourself the extra slice left over.

GOOSNARGH (n.)
Something left over from preparing or eating a meal, which you store in the fridge despite the fact that you know full well you will never ever use it.

HENSTRIDGE (n.)
The dried yellow substance found between the prongs of forks in restaurants.

INIGONISH (adj.)
Descriptive of the expression on the face of a dinner party guest which is meant to indicate huge enjoyment to the hosts and “time to go home, I think” to your partner.

JEFFERS (pl.n.)
Persons who honestly believe that a business lunch is going to achieve anything.

KIRBY (n.)
Small but repulsive piece of food prominently attached to a person’s face or clothing.

KIRBY MISPERTON (n.)
One who kindly attempts to wipe an apparent kirby (q.v.) off another’s face with a napkin, and then discovers it to be a wart or other permanent fixture, is said to have committed a ‘kirby misperton’.

LIMASSOL (n.)
The correct name for one of those little paper umbrellas which come in cocktails with too much pineapple in them.

MASBERRY (n.)
The sap of a giant Nigerian tree from which all cafeteria jams are made.

NAPLES (pl.n.)
The tiny depressions in a piece of Ryvita.

OYSTERMOUTH (n.)
One who can kiss and chew gum at the same time.

PAPPLE (vb.)
To do what babies do to soup with their spoons.

PEORIA (n.)
The fear of peeling too few potatoes.

QUABBS (pl.n.)
The substances which emerge when you squeeze a blackhead.

RADLETT (n.)
The single hemisphere of dried pea which is invariably found in an otherwise spotlessly clean saucepan.

SALWEEN (n.)
A faint taste of dishwashing liquid in a cup of tea.

THROCKING (participial vb.)
The action of continually pushing down the lever on a pop-up toaster in the hope that you will thereby get it to understand that you want it to toast something. Also: a style of drum-playing favoured by Nigel Olsson of the Elton John Band, reminiscent of the sound of someone slapping a frankfurter against a bucket. An excellent example of this is to be heard on ‘Someone Save My Life Tonight’ from the album Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy.

UPOTTERY (n.)
That part of a kitchen cupboard which contains an unnecessarily large number of milk jugs.

VENTNOR (n.)
One who, having been visited as a child by a mysterious gypsy lady, is gifted with the strange power of being able to operate the air-nozzles above aeroplane seats.

WOKING (participial vb.)
Standing in the kitchen wondering what you came in here for.

YATE (n.)
Dishearteningly white piece of bread which sits limply in a pop-up toaster during a protracted throcking (q.v.) session.

ZLATIBOR (n.)
(Hungarian) A prince of the blood royal temporarily forced to seek employment as a waiter.

~ from The Deeper Meaning of Liff by Douglas Adams and John Lloyd (Three Rivers Press, 1990).


Lovisa Granath/flickr

*BONUS LIFFS (cause I just can’t get enough of these suckers):

GLASGOW (n.) *for David and Tanita
The feeling of infinite sadness engendered when walking through a place filled with happy people fifteen years younger than yourself.

KALAMI (n.)
The ancient Eastern art of being able to fold road-maps properly. (Len is an expert.)

KIMMERIDGE (n.)
The light breeze which blows through your armpit hair when you are stretched out sunbathing. Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!

LOW EGGBOROUGH (n.)
A quiet little unregarded man in glasses who is building a new kind of atomic bomb in his garden shed.

Hey! Wanna try one? What do you think “Smyrna” is?

My guess: Tiny smudge left on one’s face after kissing an always-smiling, zealous jam eater. ☺

♥ If you’re still hungry, even more liff.


Da da da duddo! (DrSlippers2007/flickr).

Back to Woking . . .

 Certified authentic alphabetica. Made by hand especially for you with love and adorable pappling.

Copyright © 2011 Jama Rattigan of jama rattigan’s alphabet soup. All rights reserved.

kool and krazy kidlit kats up close and purrsonal!

“When my cats are not happy, I’m not happy. They’re just sitting there thinking of ways to get even.” ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley



Cats, cats, cats. Everywhere cats! Yowl!

Today, alphabet soup is proud to feature 17 somewhat scruffy immaculately groomed authors and illustrators from the kidlitosphere and their 17,000 crazy cool cats. It’s not like any of these people actually hissed at my National Dog Day post in August, where we rhapsodized about man’s best friend, extolled his loyalty, and traded stories over a few juicy bones. You know, a perfectly innocent little party.

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cornelius picks out a pumpkin

           

Why, hello.

I was just on my way to the Pumpkin Farm. The weather’s perfect today — warm and sunshine-y with deep blue skies and not a single cloud in sight. Wanna come along?

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