Mr. Hawthorne Cooks Dinner.

Before I start with Mr. Hawthorne's dinner tonight, I must show you last night's sunset.
Very pretty.

Today, Mr. H. wanted to make clam chowder.


First, he immediately starts cutting his bacon into his pan.

"No, NO, NOOO!!" I tell him.

"You must get all your ingredients together and put them on the cutting board
so I can take a picture of your mise en place."

Well, for heaven's sake.
You'd think I was talking French to him.
Mon Dieu!

"I ain't doing no stinkin' whatever you said. I'm cookin'."

So, I'll just narrate and shoot pictures.

Next in, a diced potato.

Then some chopped on-yons.

Damn, I miss Justin Wilson.

Ooh. Oooh. Action shot.

Then he remembered he'd forgotten his carrots.
I told you to do your mise en place.

Next, he poured in his clam juice.
Oh, man, nice stream!

This is the brand we use.

And the clams lump into the pan.

Here's the clam chowder so far.

Next, Mr. Hawthorne got out his leftover tile fish with its fish jelly
which we had for dinner two nights ago.
If you haven't had tile fish, please do so.
Delicious.

Pull out all bones with a pair of pliers.
3/4 inch thick fillets
350 degree preheated oven
Slice some onions on top.
Add some butter.
Juice of half a lemon.
Old Bay seasoning.
20 minutes.
Check after 15 minutes.
If it flakes, it's done.

Poured the tile fish into the pot.

And stirred.

Lookin' good.

Bo-Bo and Mr. H.

Beau is like Dixie.
He stays right at our feet when we're cooking.
Smart doggies.

Oh, and Middle Hawthorne has instructed us NEVER, I repeat NEVER, to give his dog any types of treats, to respect his relationship with his dog, blah, blah, blah, fishcakes.
Yeah, right.
I'm his Nana.
That's what Nanas and PawPaws do.

But we will now do it in a clandestine manner.

Take that Middle Hawthorne!

And BTW, Middle Hawthorne (And I say this 'cause I'm pretty sure MH doesn't read my blog.),
if you leave your puppy with me to babysit while you go to a concert in Richmond, for several HOURS, you can believe that when you get home, Beau will have a NEW WORD in his vocabulary. Today's new word he learned is "TREAT," as in "Come here, Bo Bo, TREAT!"
And, by golly, Beau comes.
And he gets a treat.

>End Rant<

Next, some smoked paprika went in.

Oops. Forgot the celery.
Mise en place.
Mise en place.

In a separate pan, Mr. Hawthorne made a roux.
He melted some butter (We use nothing but Land o' Lakes Unsalted.), then added Pillsbury's Shake and Blend Flour that comes in the cannister.

Next, he added some milk,

and cooked until nicely thickened.

He added the roux to the clam chowder.

Then added some heavy cream.

And a bit more smoky paprika.

And some sherry.
And cooked a bit more to thicken.

I added some chopped parsley.
Heaven.

Just heaven.

Not only could you see all the flavors,
you could taste the presentation.
And I could smell the colors.
And I could feel the aromas.
And I heard the chowder:
It called out to me like a Siren.
"Come to me. Eat me."

I did.
And was glad.
It was good.

A sensory coup, if you will.

Sublime.

Day-um, I dun tawt dat man to cook!

I guess I'll keep him.