Pooks Canyon

Picnicking is a lost art. It is so arcane that even the word looks strange to me; where did that extra k come from, anyway? With a little practice, however, we can revive a forgotten ritual. With a modern touch we can stave off the salmonella as well. Being smarter than the average picnicker does not depend on gourmet food. A great picnic sits on a sturdy blanket accompanied by the right set of accoutrement. Once you have the parts: insulated picnic “basket”, reusable dishes, flatware, cups, and a small cutting board, the rest is easy. I use the word basket loosely: the best picnic baskets are zippered, insulated duffels with handy compartments for holding dishes and food. My basket stays stocked and ready in the hall closet, right alongside a hand-woven Mexican blanket – thick enough to keep out a little dew or pointy grass. I love to take the family on picnics; it is an economical way to spend quality time with everyone. For the cost of whatever food I would be making at home anyway,...

This evening’s shrimp were deveined and frozen at a time when the Gulf Oil spill was not even a glimmer on BP’s balance sheet. Through the digestive passages of these cryogenic crustaceans passed only the usual amount of oceanic pollutants. Contamination aside, previously frozen could never be as delicious as the shrimp of my dreams: the fresh catch, killed and grilled same day. Now those were some camarones. Since all I have now is a bag of frozen shrimp, I’m going to cook with them. No skewers here, we’ll save that for the good stuff. Tonight I am making shrimp fried rice. As I look at my humble and disemboweled sea bugs thawing in a colander, I think back to their succulent superiors from Mexico. Shrimp Serif. These are not the shrimp I am looking for. My husband and I got married in Puerto Vallarta and stayed on for the honeymoon - along with several dozen of our closest friends and family. We ate out frequently and often in large groups, so when my husband and ...

My back is sore and I did sleep restlessly last night, but I’m no princess. The only peas in my house rest peacefully in the kitchen. We keep the food in bed rule at zero tolerance around here, though sometimes the little guy traipses in at 5am covered in cream cheese after a pre-dawn breakfast foray. Or forage as the case may be. But I’m getting off-peaste (I know, I know), so on with the peas. Living in Boulder, Colorado has some culinary advantages. While the climate is not the best for abundant fresh produce, support for small organic farms is prevalent. About five years ago, excited for the restart of the farmer’s market, I heard about "farm share." Farm share programs are an opportunity to take part in the bounty of a local farm while at the same time indemnifying the farmer from catastrophic crop issues. If the peas were plentiful, we would get a peck in our weekly share. If the lettuce was hailed upon, then our share would contain lettuce racked with ...

Early Monday morning, in an unprecedented demonstration of the obfuscation of the real world, average tweeters everywhere were given the ability to make Demi Moore, Ashton Kutcher, and Betty White listen to their boring sub-140 character life updates. Yes, kiddies, it’s true. Well, ok, I really don’t know if Betty White is on Twitter- I missed SNL this weekend - but had you known about this, you would have been able to make someone follow you on Twitter. A force-follow if you will, any twit you could dream up. What would I have done with such immense power? Probably frittered it away, or should I say twittered it away. I would have made Sarah Palin follow me, then posted locations of secret tea-bagging sessions where everyone would get a free Prada goodie bag for participating. The locations would all turn out to be Planned Parenthood offices. I would have forced myself upon Rob Lowe and Jude Law, tipping them off to the headquarters of the under-23 nanny society, only...

It is Mother’s Day and my biggest concern is whether or not I should write under the influence of Flexeril. Such is my carefree lifestyle. The second Sunday in May is usually my favorite day of the year, but this one I am observing horizontally after pulling my back in a frenzied toddler wrangle. I am sure that the back issue will have little bearing on my enjoyment of today; the bliss of a demand-free afternoon is hard to defeat. I have had my eye on the Salon Kitchen Challenge all week: bring us your Mother’s Day recipes in honor of what your mother made for you. My mom hails from 1950’s California, a product of that state’s agricultural heartland. At eighteen, she wed a son of Indiana and they are happily married to this day. The basic cuisine in my formative years was what one would expect from a 1980’s household such as ours. Shake ‘n Bake chicken, Shake ‘n Bake pork chops, meat loaf, and tuna noodle casserole. We never did have Shake ‘n Bake meat loaf, which would...

Chuck Coyle literally drove away with the win today at the ICC Crit in Englewood, doing a steering wheel style salute in honor of sponsor, Groove Subaru. Chuck got away in a break of four guys with only three laps to go. Dirk Friel and Thomas Roba were in the break and Chuck said they tried attacks but he was able to stay on their wheels and outsprinted Paul Esposti for the win. This win came on the heels of many a several primes won by teammies Jon Baker, Greg Krause, Chuck himself, and Zach Davies - who got fifth after winning the field sprint. They are racing in a way we rarely see teams race around the front range: like a team. Good job guys!!!