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Monthly Archives: March 2013

P1020059

We call my grandmother Gummy.  Madame Gumball, if you are my father and are feeling contrite.  Gummy is derived from my sisters’ inability to pronounce grandmother as children.  Or grandma.  Or anything really.  They are thus credited with the creation of the masterful name “Gummy”.

If our family has a matriarch, its most definitely Gummy.  We all adore her but are frightened of her “jokes” about how when she gets a cane, she will hit her grandchildren with it to keep us in line.  She is probably kidding.  We don’t know.

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P1010829This is, in a sense, a restaurant review.  I have been going to Chez Pascal, a small French restaurant on the East Side of Providence, RI for the past 9 years.  In fact, I spent two summers selling gourmet hot dogs, sausages, and sandwiches for them (yeah they do that too).  My family is quite close to the owners.  We love them.  Really love them.  They make the restaurant a special place, somewhere that feels like home, for everyone that walks through the doors.

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P1010932

I love a good grilled cheese.  I mean, I love cheese.  But a good grilled cheese I’ll take every day.  I especially love them with caramelized onions.  Because caramelized onions are in my top ten necessary foods.

I tend to make my grilled cheese with mustardy beer onions when people are coming over and I have planned literally nothing to feed them.  This dish tastes good and fancy and involves things that should always be in your kitchen.  Onions, beer, mustard, cheese, and bread.

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A member of our family, the only Irishman we’ve got (who would like to be known as Pinocchio here, because he just wants to be a real boy who eats real gluten food), recently learned that he has Celiacs disease.  He is distressed, understandably, because he thinks this means he will never eat real bread or cake again.  (Its mainly the cake that makes him sad.)

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P1010646

I sent out a mass text to my four friends yesterday asking them if they wanted to get oysters and beer from the oyster and beer fish market that Slug had found downtown.  Not a single one responded to me.  So I tried an experiment.

Many hours later, I sent out a mass text to the same people asking them if they would eat a pie if I made one.  Immediate responses.  One friend said “yes” another said “when” and Slug for some reason did not respond.  A third friend claimed he “wasn’t hungry today” which just does not make sense.

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