Greek Cheese & Honey Cheesecake: Melopita

This Greek cheesecake is called "honey pie," "μελοπιτα" (Melopita) in Greek, and it seems to have originated on the Aegean island of Sifnos, although there are other similar versions in Greece, especially on other Aegean islands, and some of the recipes use the cheese mixture as a filling for a pie crust. Instead of using one larger baking dish, I used some 5 inch pie pans when I made the Melopita for this article. Ricotta cheese is a highly suitable substitute for some of the similar Greek cheeses used to make Melopita, but which are not always easily obtained elsewhere.  

Ingredients:

1 1/2 cups ricotta cheese
1 1/2 tablespoons flour
2 eggs
1/3 cup honey
1/4 teaspoon thyme leaves
1 heaping tablespoon finely grated lemon zest
(for serving) ground cinnamon + honey

Crush the thyme leaves into fine particles. Mix together the ricotta, flour, eggs, honey, finely ground thyme leaves and lemon zest. Mix until smooth (I just use a hand mixer). Butter a baking dish, pie pan(s), or cake pan. Preheat oven to 350 F. Bake about 50 minutes or until the top is lightly browned. Allow to cool, then drizzle with some honey and sprinkle on some cinnamon.

In the top two photos, I inverted the small tart pan to remove the Melopita

In this photo, I removed the Melopita straight out of the tart pan (you can see the lightly browned top beneath the honey and cinnamon ... 

One of the Melopita still in the pie pan ...

WORD HISTORY:
Abyss (Abysm)-The ultimate origin of this word is uncertain, and it "may" not be Indo European. Transliterated Ancient Greek had "byssós," which meant, "deep area, bottom." This was then given the prefix "a," which in Greek meant "no, not, without;" thus, the transliterated noun "abyssos," meaning, "bottomless pit," which was also used adjectivally ("bottomless, boundless, unfathomable"). Latin borrowed the word as "abyssus" (bottomless pit) and English borrowed the word circa 1400, meaning "depths of the sea," but also in the context of creation, "vast chaos." Latin "abyssus" also produced "abyssimus," seemingly a superlative form meaning, "of the greatest depths," and the figurative, "utterly terrible, awful, 'abysmal' "). This passed to Old French as a noun, "abisme," meaning, "the greatest depths of the Earth," and also used to mean, "Hell." This was borrowed by English from French in the early 1300s as "abysm" meaning, "the greatest depths of Earth, bottomless pit." In common usage it was overtaken by its close relative with the spelling "abyss," but "abysm" remained around in poetry and high style writings, although it now seems to be a rarity indeed.      

Garlic Soup

I've seen some claims that garlic soups (various recipes) can "help" prevent some illnesses, like colds and influenza. Whether there is actually scientific evidence to support this line of claims, I don't really know, but if you like garlic, or if you have beliefs in garlic as a health supplement, this is a soup for you. Of course, since the garlic is cooked, the sharp taste of raw garlic isn't present, but you'll still get your garlic "fix," if that's one of your taste cravings. I've found that letting the soup cool, then refrigerating it until the next day gives it a more developed flavor. So all you have to do is to reheat the soup, which you can even easily do for just a bowl or two in your microwave. Note: You can use your own homemade chicken stock, or buy some form of canned or packaged chicken broth, some of which are available in reduced salt versions, and there are some powdered forms that are no salt, to which you simply add water. Unless you are on a severely restricted salt diet, if you use the no salt version, you will likely want to add at least some salt to the soup. I've suggested 1/2 teaspoon in the recipe, but I use chicken broth with salt, so I do not add this extra salt. I only add 1/4 teaspoon of salt to the garlic when sauteing it (see below).   

Ingredients:

30 to 35 whole cloves of garlic, skins removed, then slightly crushed
6 cups chicken stock/broth (homemade, canned, bouillon, or packaged)
1/4 cup white wine
2 large potatoes, peeled, chopped (naturally, the smaller you chop them, the faster they'll cook)
1 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon salt, for sauteing the garlic
(optional) 1/2 teaspoon salt for the soup, but remember the chicken broth likely has salt, perhaps a lot
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 cup cream or evaporated milk
garnish with chopped chives and croutons

In a skillet, heat 2 tablespoons olive oil over low heat. Add the whole slightly crushed cloves of garlic and 1/4 teaspoon salt, then saute the garlic until it starts to lightly brown, stirring to keep it from burning or becoming too dark. This can take a little time. In a large sauce pan, add the chicken stock, wine, thyme, oregano, potatoes (also salt, if using), and the lightly browned garlic and the oil used for sauteing; bring to a good simmer and cook until the potatoes are tender. Either transfer to a blender or use a stick blender (also called an immersion blender). Blend until smooth, then, if using a regular blender, pour the soup back into the pan over low heat, then add the black pepper, and stir in the cream or milk. Let the soup heat up briefly, but do not boil. Serve with croutons and some chopped chives on top. 

WORD HISTORY:
Beaker-Although this word's origin is uncertain, it is related to "pitcher," a word borrowed by English from French and which has the rest of its known history matching that of "beaker." Its origin is thought by some to be Middle Eastern, as there are similar words from that area meaning, "vase, jug, container." The idea for supporters of this origin is that Ancient Greek borrowed the word as transliterated "bîkos," for "earthenware jug or container." Then Latin borrowed this term in a diminutive form as "bicarium," meaning, "wine jug or container." This was borrowed by some Germanic language, and passed to some other Germanic languages, but the exact process is unclear. Old High German has the word circa 1000, as "behhari," and meaning, "cup, wine goblet, jug, pitcher," and this then became "becher," and then modern "Becher" (cup, mug, tub) with a capital "B," as in modern German all nouns are capitalized. The thing is, other Germanic languages had forms around the same time as Old High German, and it's important to remember, the Germanic dialects that formed English, collectively called "Anglo-Saxon," had already left northwestern Europe by that time, and the Anglo-Saxons had long before firmly established themselves in the part of Britain named after the Angles, "England." So a form of the word was not taken with the Anglo-Saxons to Britain. English seems to have borrowed the word in the mid 1300s either from Old Norse "bikarr" (cup, drinking vessel), or from Dutch "beker" (cup, goblet). The most common meaning in modern English, "a round open mouthed glass container, without handles, used in science laboratories," developed in the second half of the 1800s.   

Lithuanian Potato Casserole: Kugelis

A friend of mine was of partial Lithuanian ancestry. I can't remember for sure, but I believe his maternal grandparents were from Lithuania and they settled here in Cleveland, where other Lithuanian immigrants formed a Lithuanian community in the northeastern part of the city in the East 185th Street area, where it still exists to this day. My friend once prepared this dish, "Kugelis," for a party, many years ago, which gave me my first time to try "Kugelis." Unfortunately, my friend passed away quite a number of years ago.

There are some variations to "Kugelis," but generally those variations are about supplemental ingredients, not about the basic ingredients of potatoes, onion and bacon, although it can be made without bacon, to make it a vegetarian dish. "Kugelis" is a common dish for holidays (not just Christmas), and it is often served topped with sour cream and/or with fruit preserves or compote, like lingonberries (Americans and Canadians can easily use whole cranberry sauce/cranberry relish). By the way, sour cream is a common ingredient in dishes, or as an accompaniment to dishes, in that part of the world, as that overall region of the eastern Baltic area and transcending many national borders, has long had a strong tie to dairy farming.    

Ingredients:

1 1/2 pounds potatoes, peeled and grated (best to squeeze out excess liquid from the potatoes too)* 
1/2 cup onion, grated
1/3 cup bacon, chopped
1 1/2 tablespoons flour 
1/2 cup milk
3 eggs
2 to 3 tablespoons chopped dill 
2/3 teaspoon pepper
1 teaspoon salt

In a skillet, saute the bacon over medium heat for about 3 minutes, then add the onion and saute further until the onion softens, then remove the skillet from the heat and set it aside. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, dill, salt and pepper. Add the grated potatoes, the bacon/onion mixture and sprinkle the flour over the mixture, then thoroughly mix everything together well (I do it by hand). Butter a baking dish or pan and put the potato mixture in and smooth it over. Bake at 400 F for 45 minutes or until nicely browned. Serve with a dollop of sour cream on top.

* A few things about the potatoes: Russet/Idaho potatoes are good for this dish. I grate the potatoes on an old style vegetable grater, and I use the side of the grater with relatively small holes (maybe some say "medium"?), but not the small or extra small grating parts. It's best to wait to grate the potatoes until just before you add them to the mixture, or they will begin to oxidize (turn brownish in color). When you grate the potatoes, they will likely give off at least some liquid, which you can just pour off. I then give the grated potatoes a squeeze by hand to get any really excess liquid out of them. I don't try to wring them dry, although from what I understand, some Lithuanians do just about that.  

WORD HISTORY:
Epic-This noun and adjective is distantly related to "voice," a Latin-derived word borrowed by English from French. "Epic" goes back to Indo European "wekw," which meant, "to speak." This gave transliterated Ancient Greek "epos," which meant, "a word, one's word;" that is, "a promise, heroic story often told in poetry." This produced the transliterated Ancient Greek adjective "epikos," meaning, "relating to heroic story or stories of poetry." This was borrowed by Latin as "epicus" with the same meaning. This gave French "épique," which was borrowed by English in the late 1500s, with likely reinforcement by Latin "epicus." The noun developed from the adjective in the early 1700s meaning, "an extended poem or narrative centered around a heroic figure." The adjective has taken on the additional more general meaning, "(usually) a story or event staged or told in a grand way."    

Estonian Cod Salad & Horseradish Sauce

This salad, called "Tursasalat ja Mädarõikakaste" in Estonian,* is great on its own with some rye bread, or it can certainly be used as an appetizer or as an accompaniment to a main dish. I adapted my recipe from a recipe in, "The Food and Cooking of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania," by Silvena Johan Lauta with photography by Martin Brigdale, published by Aquamarine, a division of Anness Publishing Ltd, London, 2009.  

Ingredients:

1 1/2 pounds cod fillets, poached in salted water
2 tablespoons lemon juice
3 tablespoons horseradish
2/3 cup sour cream
3 tablespoons mayonnaise
1/4 cup finely chopped onion
1/4 cup peeled chopped cucumber
1/2 cup arugula 
3 tablespoons chopped dill
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon salt 

Poach the cod in salted water until it can be flaked. Drain the fish well, flake the fish, then sprinkle on the lemon juice. In a bowl, mix together the other ingredients, then gently fold in the flaked cod.

* Estonian is a language from the Uralic family of languages and it is closely related to Finnish, and somewhat more distantly to Hungarian. Finland lies just north of Estonia, across the Baltic Sea, or over land to the northeast, where the two countries are separated by part of Russia. The Uralic languages are non Indo European, the ancestor of nearly all other European languages, including among many others, English, German, Swedish, Latvian and Russian.    

WORD HISTORY:
Arugula (Rocket)-First, this word "rocket" is NOT the same word for a type of missile, and they have totally different sources. This plant name word goes back to Indo European "ghers/gher" meaning, "to bristle," and an extended form "gherukah." This gave Latin "eruca," meaning "caterpillar" (apparently, "the bristly insect"), and also the name for a "plant related to cabbage and kale," seemingly from the "bristling leaves." The general plant name passed into the evolving Italian language as "ruka," with the diminutive form being "ruchetta," but in dialectal northern Italian as "arigola." English first borrowed the plant name word as "rocket," from "ruchetta," in the 1500s, but circa 1970 American English took on "arugula" from the dialectal Italian form, "seemingly" from northern Italian immigrants and their culinary use of the plant. In England and other parts of Britain, "rocket" remains the common word for the plant.     

Ironside Episode: Memory of an Ice Cream Stick

This episode of television crime drama "Ironside" first aired on NBC in January 1968.

Some background: The title of the series, "Ironside," refers to Robert T. Ironside, the Chief of Detectives of the San Francisco Police Department, who was seriously wounded by a sniper attack and left paralyzed from the waist down and, thus, he was confined to a wheelchair. Upon his recovery from the basic wounds, the "Chief" is made a special consultant to the police department, which assigns two young permanent officers to him, these being Detective Sergeant Ed Brown and Officer Eve Whitfield. He also hires, on his own, Mark Sanger, a young delinquent, whom the Chief works to reform. Oh, I almost forgot ... Sanger is black. The Chief hires Mark to be his personal assistant and the driver of a refurbished paddy wagon police vehicle to haul around the Chief and his wheelchair, as well as radio and mobile telephone equipment. (To younger people: no Internet or cellphones like today in those times.) The series was very representative of the second half of the 1960s and early 1970s, with "culture clash" (music styles, clothing and personal appearance styles, drug use, antiwar activism, women's rights, racial fairness), "generation gap" (many of the same issues as 'culture clash,' because of generational differences), and the striving to see racial minorities, especially black Americans, be treated fairly in society. The writers for the series didn't have to really make things up, as all of these things I've mentioned, and likely some I've inadvertently left out, were right there in front of us for all to see. 

Episode Cast:

Raymond Burr ....... Chief Robert T. Ironside, aka simply, "the Chief," or "Chief"
Don Mitchell .......... Mark Sanger
Barbara Anderson ... Officer Eve Whitfield
Don Galloway ......... Sergeant Ed Brown
Mel Scott ................. Sam Noble
Jack Kruschen ......... Willie Busch
Ena Hartman ...........  Millie Roberts
Gene Lyons .............  Police Commissioner Dennis Randall 

A racketeer is found murdered and a recent parolee, Sam Noble, is questioned about the killing, as he was one of the last people to see the man alive. The fear among the San Francisco authorities is that a gang murder could set off a series of retaliatory killings by rival gangs, and bring about a gang war. When Sam Noble is questioned, Mark Sanger recognizes him as a man from his neighborhood when he was a child, and who had given Mark a quarter for an ice cream stick to do errands for him.* Mark introduces himself to Sam, who indeed recalls Mark from a decade earlier and that seems to be the end of it. The Chief, meanwhile, recounts Sam's lengthy criminal record and states that they likely haven't seen the last of Sam Noble. Later, Sam sees Mark in a coffee shop and they talk briefly, but a supermarket robbery has been reported to police and two police officers enter the coffee shop and put both Sam and Mark against the wall and search them. Mark is furious when he tells the Chief what happened, but Ironside tries to calm Mark by explaining that Sam fit a description of the robbery suspect, and that obviously, the officers thought Mark was a possible accomplice, and both men had to be searched for weapons. When the Chief makes a somewhat casual comment that Mark probably won't see Sam Noble again, Mark takes offense and says that no one can tell him whom to befriend. Their voices rise as they have a bit of a clash, and their friendship seems threatened. The Chief's perception of Sam is as a convicted criminal who is probably not reformed, and potentially a bad influence on Mark, and maybe even a danger to him (throughout the series, the Chief is very protective of his staff). On the other hand, Mark associates Sam with "the best times" of his life, his childhood, and even though Mark has lots of "street smarts," he doesn't want to see or hear anything that casts a shadow over Sam's past role as the guy who bought him ice cream. This is the crux of the story: our desire to hold onto our happy memories, and perhaps to try to relive those memories. Maybe others have a different take on it.

Anyway, Chief Ironside has a kind of father like relationship with Mark, a very interesting and daring thing in those times, when racial tensions in the U.S. were often seething. I'm sure some white Americans, especially, but not exclusively, in the South, and probably some black Americans, were furious over such a mix. Both the Chief and Mark are bothered by their argument and later, in a good will gesture, the Chief tells Mark to go to the steakhouse across the street for dinner, and to put it on his account. When Mark leaves the building, Sam Noble is outside waiting to see him. He says he wants to apologize for Mark getting dragged into the mess with the police. Mark is happy for Sam's apology and he sees it as a sign that Sam has reformed, so he invites Sam into the steakhouse with him. During dinner Sam tells Mark he will be starting a new job in a few days, and this goes a long way toward reassuring Mark that Sam has changed his ways and he lets Sam know that the Chief doesn't really trust him. Mark is a bit shocked to hear Sam admit that he can't blame the Chief, and that, "A rap lasts a lot longer than the time you spend inside. Well... it lasts until people trust you again."**

When Mark returns home, the Chief tells him that Sam has long had ties to racketeers, and that there's a good chance he had gone to see the murdered racketeer to collect on a payoff. This all brings the Chief and Mark to argue about Mark's association with Sam again, but this argument escalates beyond the earlier disagreement. Mark talks with Eve Whitfield about what he should do, because now he feels he should not have argued with the Chief, and that he can't explain why he defends Sam Noble against the Chief's suspicions. Mark wants to apologize to the Chief, but the hustle and bustle of the ongoing case leaves no time alone for the two. One of the top racketeers tells the chief the name of the man who is taking over for the murdered racketeer leader. Sam arranges to see Mark and he tells Mark this same name, which only confirms to Mark that Sam is trying to go straight. When Mark finally has some time alone with the Chief, they try talking again, but the Chief restates the possibility of Sam still being outside of the law. This begins to make Mark angry again, but the Chief recounts the bad times in Mark's life, and how Mark had to love when he was a child and Sam Noble bought him ice cream and candy, and the Chief says he knows he seems to be taking this one part of Mark's life with so many fond memories and ruining it, but that he doesn't mean to do so. Mark tells him not to do it then.

The new racketeer leader is found dead and his wall safe emptied. When the Chief goes to investigate, he lets Mark go out on his own for awhile. Mark goes to Sam's hotel room, only to find Sam packing. Mark is curious that Sam would be leaving town when he is scheduled to start his new job. When Mark looks into Sam's suitcase, there is a large amount of money inside. Sam draws a gun and intends to use Mark as a hostage to get out of town. It was Sam who killed and robbed the new racketeer leader. Mark now sees Sam as he really is, and when Sam tells him to cooperate and he might buy him an ice cream stick, Mark answers, "I'm not a kid anymore." Life has its brutal moments of reality.

Sam has Mark call the Chief to get him to end the hunt for Sam. With Mark's life hanging in the balance, the Chief carefully works things to drag out the process to see if they can get a fix on where the call is coming from. They only get a generalized area of the call, so numerous police units go to the area. When Sam has Mark call back, this time the call is completely traced by the police to the phone booth of Sam and Mark's location. When Sam tries to escape, he is grabbed by police officers and handcuffed. Mark is safe.

Back at home, Mark starts to apologize to the Chief, but in a very touching moment, the Chief says, "Mark... Sam Noble bought you ice cream when you were a kid. It was a good time of life. There's not a man in the world who wouldn't fight as hard as he can to hold onto the best time of his life." Mark realizes he has found a new "best time of life," in his life with, and taking care of, the Chief, which includes games of darts, and Mark challenges the Chief to a game, and the Chief tells him, "You sir are about to be taught a lesson in humility."       

* Actor Don Mitchell and his character Mark Sanger were in their 20s in the "Ironside" series, so his childhood years were in the1950s. To a child, a quarter's value in those times made them "rich," and believe me, I know ... ahh, I mean, I've heard that.

** For those unaware of this slang usage of "rap," it means, "a charge or accusation against a person, usually by indictment," and a "rap sheet" is "a written record of a person's arrests and the charges against them." "To beat the rap" means, "not pay a penalty for a charge against one."

Photo is of the Shout! Factory Season 1 DVD Box Set

WORD HISTORY:
Snipe (Sniper)-This word's origin is highly uncertain, but it "seems" possibly related to "snout," a word from the Germanic roots of English, with any further lineage unknown. The idea here is that "snipe" is the name for a bird with a long pointed beak (snout), which has been a game bird found near water going well back in history. There are numerous forms in the Germanic languages, but no one has actually settled upon an Old Germanic form, or whether the bird name was borrowed into Germanic. Old English (Anglo-Saxon) had "snite," but whether this is an altered form of the word (likely, in my opinion), or an entirely different word, is unknown. Many have assumed that what is now "snipe" in English, was borrowed as "snippe/snipe" (ending 'e' pronounced eh/ah) from Old Norse circa 1300, but that related Germanic language used "myrisnipa," literally "moor snipe." Perhaps the Old Norse word influenced the existing English word in pronunciation and spelling? Modern German has "Schnepfe," which was once spelled "snepha/snepfa/snepho;" Low German has "Snipp," Dutch has "snip," Swedish has "snipa," which means a long, narrow pointed boat (get it?), and also, "snäppa," for a "sandpiper," a bird found near water and similar to a snipe, Norwegian has "snipe." The verb developed from the noun in the 1700s from the idea of hiding in bushes to hunt snipes. This then developed into the noun "sniper" in the first half of the 1800s ("sniper"="typically a skilled marksman who fires upon enemy personnel from bushes or some other type of cover"). The verb later (about 1900?) also took the figurative meaning, "to make negative remarks about someone in a round about way or from a distance."        

My Own German Coleslaw

Cabbage is a popular part of the cuisine of the German cultural areas of Europe, and indeed for other European cultures too. Cabbage is a hearty plant, generally cheap, and that has kept it on many home menus during good times and bad. "Coleslaw" is a term English took from Dutch "koolsla" (cabbage salad), and the "cole" part is a pretty common Germanic form derived from Latin "caulis" many, many centuries ago, and that Germanic borrowing gave English "cawel," a word for cabbage and related plants, like kale (kale is simply another spelling of cawel). Before the word cabbage was borrowed from French (which had it from Latin), English had borrowed another Latin word, "brassica," which was also used for cabbage. German uses the word "Krautsalat" for "cabbage salad;" that is, "coleslaw" in English. The standard German word for cabbage is "Kohl," the close relative of English "cole," which in English was once spelled "col," and before that as, "cawel." As noted above, the "slaw" part is from Dutch, and it was a contracted form of "salad," another word of Latin derivation.
  
This is my own recipe, not completely following along the typical German line for such a cabbage salad.

Ingredients:

3 1/2 cups green cabbage, shredded or chopped
2 1/2 cups red cabbage, shredded or chopped
1/2 cup carrot, peeled and chopped
1 medium apple, cored, then chopped (I leave the peel on) 
4 or 5 slices bacon, fried, drained on paper towels, and chopped 
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
1/3 to 1/2 cup honey
(optional) 1 to 2 tablespoons sugar or more honey
2 tablespoons mayonnaise
1/2 cup sour cream
2 tablespoons regular olive oil (or sunflower seed oil)
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pepper

Put the the green and red cabbage, the carrot, the apple and the bacon into a large bowl; mix everything by hand. In a bowl or a large cup or a blender (I use a large measuring cup), add the honey, the vinegar, the mayonnaise, the sour cream, the oil, the salt and the pepper. Whisk, blend or use a stick blender to mix everything together well until smooth. Taste to see if you prefer the dressing to be sweeter; in which case, add the sugar or more honey and mix well again. Add about half of the dressing to the cabbage mixture and begin mixing it all together (I mix it with my hands). Add the remainder of the dressing and mix it all in well (the apple pieces must be coated or they will turn brown). Taste the slaw and mix in any additional salt and/or pepper to your preference. Refrigerate the slaw for a minimum of 2 hours, by which time the main components will give off some liquid to the salad.      

WORD HISTORY:
Couth (Uncouth)-"Couth" is closely related to the verb "can" and to the adjective "cunning," both words from the Germanic roots of English. It is a little more distantly related to "know," another word from the Germanic roots of English. "Couth" goes back to Indo European "gnoh," which had the notion of "to have knowledge." This gave its Old Germanic offspring "kunnanan," with the same general meaning, and the participle/adjective form "kunþaz" (known). The Germanic verb gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "cunnan," which meant, "to know, to be able to do something (by having knowledge of), to be familiar with." The first and third person singular present form of "cunnan" was "cann." The Germanic past participle/adjective form gave Old English "cuþ" (="cuth"), which was used adjectivally and meaning, "known, famous, familiar." The participle form "cuth" then became "couthe," then "coude," then about 1500 an "l" was inserted,^ giving us the modern "could." Back to the adjective "cuþ," which became "cuth," then "couth." It's negative form was "uncuþ" (uncuth), meaning, "unknown, strange, unfriendly." This then became "uncouth," with the meaning emphasizing "behavior beyond known standards, ill mannered, crude, rough." This then influenced adjectival "couth" in its emphasized meaning to, "polite, well mannered, refined" (from the notion of "behavior by known and familiar standards"). "Couth" has fallen out of common usage, but "uncouth" is still used. There are MANY relatives in the other Germanic languages, some of which are: German has the adjective "kundig" (knowledgeable, knowing, and German once also had "kund," meaning, "known, obvious," and like its English cousin, German had "unkundi," the equivalent to "uncouth"), Low German "künnig" (knowledgeable, knowing), Dutch has the now old style "kond" (known), Icelandic "kunnur" (known), Danish "kyndig" (knowledgeable), Swedish "kunnig" (knowledgeable), Norwegian "kunnskapsrik" (knowledgeable).

^ The "l" was seemingly added to the word following the pattern of "should" and "would," although the parent words of both of these (shall and will) have "l" in the spellings. Of course, to make this even more confusing, the "l" is not pronounced in ANY of these words; at least, not in modern English.     

Hot White Chocolate

This is so delicious and so easy to make, you may need to lock the white chocolate away in a strong box and bury it in the backyard, so you won't be making it all the time; after all, while it's absolutely delicious, it is also laden with calories. Regular readers will already know that I use evaporated (canned) milk in many recipes, and that's what I use for this white hot chocolate, but I then also add regular milk. You certainly can use all regular milk, or even 2% milk (there are also 2% versions of canned milk). Canned milk "tends" to have a slightly off white color, as compared to regular milk. Likewise, white chocolate comes in slight variations of "white," depending upon brand. If you like a little "kick" to your white hot chocolate, add some Kahlua, rum or brandy. You can heat the milk and white chocolate on your stove top, or heat it in a microwave. Both milk and white chocolate can easily stick or scorch if you use your stove, unless you use low heat, keep stirring and devote your total attention to the mixture. The amount below is my suggestion for about 4 servings of white hot chocolate. You can use mini marshmallows or the larger types, and I suggest that when you add them to the hot chocolate, use your spoon to "dunk" them into the hot chocolate and then let them float on top covered in the creamy delicious hot chocolate.        

3/4 cup chopped white chocolate
1 1/2 cups canned (evaporated milk, NOT sweetened condensed milk)
1 1/2 cups regular or 2% milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
(optional) Kahlua, rum or brandy per individual serving
marshmallows

In a microwave safe dish, add the canned milk, regular milk, vanilla extract and chopped white chocolate. Heat for about 1 1/2 to 2 minutes, then check the temperature of the milk and stir. Heat further for about 30 seconds and check the temperature and consistency again. You'll be able to tell if the chocolate is well on its way to melting. You don't want the mixture to foam over. Heat at about 10 to 15 second intervals, until you reach the temperature you like. Myself, I don't like very hot drinks or foods, so I stop at the "precise" description of "good and warm." Haha! Whisk to make sure the chocolate is melted, pour into serving cups or mugs. If desired, serve the white hot chocolate with some Kahlua, rum or brandy and some marshmallows. Don't forget to lock the white chocolate in a strong box and to bury the box in the back yard. A friend of mine liked this so much, she had 3 servings with rum, then she locked her husband in a box, buried him in the backyard and went back inside and made 3 more servings. Hahaha! I'm just joking. She didn't didn't bury him in the backyard... she locked him in the cellar.   

WORD HISTORY:
Narrow-The origin of this word is a bit uncertain, although it "seems" to go back to an Indo European form of something like "sner" or "ner," with a meaning like, "to twist, to constrict, to wind (long 'i' sound)." ^ This gave Old Germanic, or perhaps only West Germanic, "narwaz," meaning, "twisted in tightness, constricted, narrowed." This gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "nearu," meaning, "not having great space, constricted;" as well as a number of figurative meanings like, "strict, severe, causing hardship." This then became "naru," then "narowe," before the modern form. Old English also had the verb "nearwian," meaning, "to make narrow or constricted, to make or to become smaller." The noun developed from the adjective as "nearewe/nearewo" (late 1100s?), but originally meant, "a hiding place," and also, "a place of confinement;" thus, "a prison," as well as, "a narrow place," and, "a danger." The verb has long meant "to lessen the distance between things," as in, "The runner in second place was able to narrow the gap with the leading runner," and also, often used with "down," and meaning, "to limit a number of things," as in, "The mother had to narrow down the invitation list for her daughter's birthday party to make it more manageable." The other Germanic languages have: German developed more figurative senses: "Narbe" (scar, "a mark left by a narrowed wound") and "Nehrung" (a narrow strip of land that juts into the sea to form a lagoon); Low German and Dutch "naar," meaning, "dismal, sad, ill," from the idea of constricted spaces being "dismal." Old Norse had forms used for geographic points with "straits;" that is, "narrows," but it's unclear if Old Norse borrowed its form from perhaps Low German, as all the West Germanic forms originally had the general meaning "narrow, constricted."  

^ Its origin might well be "sner" a possible form of the Indo European word that produced "snare," with "narrow" and its Germanic relatives being derived from a shortened West Germanic form "ner," where the "s" was not emphasized.    

Spicy Sumatran Shrimp: Udang Saos Padang

Padang is the capital of the Indonesian province of West Sumatra on the island of Sumatra, one of the world's largest islands. Indonesia is a country literally composed of thousands of islands.

If you don't like chili pepper heat, use just a teaspoon of sambal oelek* or 1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper or 1/2 fresh red chili pepper. Often when recipes call for a small amount of tomato sauce or tomato paste, I simply substitute ketchup instead, although it is not the same. Of course, you can plan to do a couple of dishes that use tomato sauce or tomato paste to use up the remaining amount. 

Ingredients:

1 pound large, cleaned and peeled shrimp/or tails on (frozen cooked shrimp are fine, and naturally require less cooking time)
1 to 3 hot red chili peppers, or 1 1/2 tablespoons sambal oelek  
3 garlic cloves
4 green onions (white part only)
1 1/2 inch piece ginger, peeled and roughly chopped
2 Roma tomatoes, seeded and roughly chopped
1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
2 tablespoons tomato sauce (or ketchup)
zest of 1 lime
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
chopped green onions, for garnish
serve with rice

Since the basic sauce will be made in a food processor, you need not spend much time chopping the ingredients into perfect pieces. Use a food processor and add the chilies, garlic, onion, ginger, Roma tomatoes and turmeric. Process until smooth. Heat the oil in a skillet over medium heat, add the processed sauce mixture, the ketchup/tomato sauce and the lime zest. Stir the mixture while cooking it for about 3 minutes. Add the shrimp and cook until tender, while turning the shrimp to coat them with the sauce. Serve with rice and strew some chopped green onion on top of each serving.

* Sambal Oelek is a chunky hot chili pepper sauce/relish "originally" from Indonesia. The American made version can be easily found in the Asian section, or in the hot sauce section, of supermarkets.   

WORD HISTORY:

Level-This word is distantly related to "litre" (American spelling "liter"), a word borrowed by English from French; to "lira" (an Italian monetary unit), a word borrowed by English from Italian, and to "livre" (a former French monetary unit), a word borrowed by English from French, although not commonly used in more modern times. The ultimate origin of "level" is not known, although some believe it to have been borrowed from some Mediterranean language by Italic, or perhaps developed by Italic, the parent language group of Latin and some other languages like Umbrian and Oscan. The Italic word was something like "lithra," which meant "a measurement of weight (pound)." Ancient Greek either also borrowed the word from a Mediterranean source itself, or Greek borrowed the word from Italic through its extensive interaction with Sicily, where a "litra" was a type of coin. The Italic form gave Latin the noun "libra," which was "a measurement of weight;" thus also, "a balance of 2 scales for weighing." This produced the Latin diminutive (makes the meaning of the word "smaller" or "dear") "libella," which was a part of a Roman monetary unit, but also, more importantly, "an implement used in building to help make surfaces even, horizontal." This passed into Latin-based Old French as "livel," with the same meaning. English borrowed the word circa 1350. The adjective (be even, having to do with evenness) and the verb (to make even) developed from the noun in the middle of the 1400s. Several figurative uses developed, including "to take aim with a gun," which "might" have later produced the American English expression "do your 'level' best" in the mid 1800s, from the idea of "keep your gun as level as possible when aiming to get the best shot." The idea of "balanced, even," gave rise to the meaning, "fair, honest," and also "not prone to extreme emotional reactions" ("level headed/levelheaded").