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by Joyce Londorf
od of cooking vegetables. Small batter- dipped pieces of vegetables are deep- fat fried till light brown, with an al most “ sheer” crust, and not a trace of greasiness. The vegetables actually steam-cook when the icy-cold batter hits the hot fat. The recipe for Tempura Cauliflower is given below. Use the same tempura batter to experiment with other vege tables, such as asparagus, parsley, sliced sweet potatoes, spinach, mush rooms, and green beans. Tips to insure your success with tempura: 1. Wash vegetables and dry well. Cut into slices where necessary. 2. Cover and chill sauces if prepared ahead of time. 3. Mix batter just before using; keep chilled with ice cubes while using. 4. Use one set of tongs to dip vegeta bles in batter; another for frying. 5. Use fresh, bland cooking oil for frying. TEMPURA CAULIFLOWER 1 large head cauliflower Tempura Batter 1 cup sifted all-purpose flour 1 cup ice water 1 slightly beaten egg 2 tablespoons salad oil Vi teaspoon each: sugar and salt Dip in soy sauce Remove cauliflower leaves and some of the woody stem. Separate into flower ets; wash; dry VERY thoroughly on paper towels. Just before using, beat together flour, water, egg, oil, sugar, and salt till all dry ingredients are just well moistened (a few flour lumps should remain). Keep batter cool with one or two ice cubes in the batter. Dip flowerets in batter; cook in deep hot fat (360° to 365°) till tender and browned. Skim off any batter on sur face of fat. Drain thoroughly. Dip into soy sauce.
Dentist appointments, Tax deductions, Chauffcuring, Cleaning,
OH, TH E WONDER OF IT ALL! If I were a daffodil, I would never have bloomed this April. No one told my daffodils, ranunculi and azaleas that it was too cold and too rainy to bloom, so they pushed through the dark, wet sod, put on their yellow and pink coats and bloomed their petals off in spite of ominous weather predictions and fa llin g barometers. NOTHING seems to discourage them. If people were transplanted into flower beds, I wonder if they’d ever have blossoms? Would they be filled with a sense of purpose and wonder, enough to fight darkness, dampness and tons of earth and eventually find the sun so they could bloom and produce? I wonder! Too often we approach this daily business of living without the sense of purpose and wonder and we are the first to question what has happened to all the romance and, as the song says, “Where Have All The Flowers Gone?” We see no gaily-colored birds, we watch no petals unfold and we cannot, for the life of us, catch any delicate scent of fragrance in our existence. We are very much like the women who came to the tomb that spring so long ago. It was their duty — their loving, but deeply sad duty, to bring ointment and spices for the body of their beloved Master. They came with no wonder in their hearts, no breathless excitement about their task; just an unbelievable numbness that filled their souls as they walked the path to the grave. But once they reached their des tination, they were never the same again! Their entire lives exploded into wonder, and what was routine and sad became extraordinary and utterly in credibly joyous. What did that to them? Simply the words, “He is not here, He is risen!” Oh, God, in our sophisticated lives of
Birth control pills, Short mini skirts, Small mini bikes, Long blond bangs, Astronauts, Credit cards, IBM machines, Hijackers, Kidnappers, Hair dresser appointments, Parent-teacher conferences and Computers, help us not to lose all the sense of purpose and wonder this Easter when once again we hear those same glorious, thought-expanding, ea rth -ch an g in g words, “He is not here, He is risen!” It’s no coincidence that it has been a long time since our pastor’s sermon has stirred us like an exquisite bouquet of flowers when we are not filled with wonder over the risen (alive) Lord. It’s no accident that it has been a long time since our marriage has had any hint of fragrant romance when we have forgotten the wonder of knowing and sharing in the love of a risen (loving) Lord! It’s no quirk of fate that our routine produces no blossoms and no fruit when we constantly complain and whine about our circumstances and never remember to be grateful to the risen (practical) Lord! It’s Easter; it’s time to wake up from our deep winter’s sleep — go to the tomb — take with us our small bottles of achievements, our tiny box of rou tine tasks and our pitiful collections of usable talents and see the shining won der of the empty tomb and risen Lord . . . then walk away, no — dance, as David might have done, for He is NOT dead, He is alive!
jet air travel, T.V. dinners, Endless committee meetings,
TEMPURA Tempura is a unique Japanese meth
25
APRIL, 1969
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