My sister Kim is a magnificent cook as was my mother. Her meals, on an ordinary weekday night, combine flavors and ingredients unexpectedly and look camera worthy. I, on the other hand, fear Kim’s exuberant experimentation and thus follow recipes, hoping I will have leftovers. Kim is the sort who reads cookbooks from page 1Continue reading “Steak Bites, who knew?”
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Bread and meat only, please
I have a reluctant eater, the sort who is limited to one glass of milk at dinner so that he does not attempt to swallow whole every undesirable bite on his plate. Elliott likes fruit. Except for dragon fruit (which we all agreed looks much better than it tastes), my youngest son eats the rainbowContinue reading “Bread and meat only, please”
My first calf was Key-Lock
As a little girl, my dad Rick Escobar invited my sisters and me to name his cows. Inexplicably, I named my calf, Key-Lock. Karie named her calf, Dog-Dog, because she thought all animals were dogs at age 2, and Kim, the eldest of us three, called hers Lightning. Her name, clearly, was the best ofContinue reading “My first calf was Key-Lock”
