In the category of "I never could get the hang of Thursdays," I've noticed for the past few weeks that something seems to happen to my brain at about 4 on Thursday afternoon. I lose all ability to focus. I'll be going along just fine, then at 4 the brain comes to a screeching halt. I wonder if that's the point where my brain has done enough writing for the week and needs to recharge or if it just happens to coincide with where I am in the work. Yesterday, I'd reached a point where I'd figured out why a particular scene that's always bothered me a bit didn't work and what other scene needed to go in its place, but I didn't know what that other scene would actually be like. I retreated to the sofa with a notebook and pen, put on some mindless TV to distract the conscious brain and did some brainstorming, so maybe today I'll be able to write the new, improved scene.

Speaking of Douglas Adams, apparently the new Hitchhiker's Guide book written by a different author came out this week. I haven't seen any reviews yet, so I'm curious to see if someone else was able to pull off the tone (but with possibly better plotting).

And while I'm on a theme, last night I made my first batch of what I like to call "Almost, but not quite, entirely unlike chili." It's my version of chili, which would probably make chili aficionados shudder but which is quick and easy to do and makes for a good meal on a cool day when you don't want to do any serious cooking. This is one of those "do it by feel" recipes.

Start by browning some ground beef -- I generally use about a pound. I try to keep the crumbles bite sized instead of going really small. While the beef is cooking, sprinkle on some dehydrated minced onions. If you want to get really wild and crazy, you could dice actual onions, but the whole point of this dish is minimal work. Drain the fat from the beef.

Get out your can opener because it's about to get a workout. Add a can of stewed tomatoes (I like the diced kind because they're easier to deal with), a can of tomatoes with green chilis (Ro-Tel is the primary brand), a small can of tomato sauce and a can of tomato paste (the tomato paste is optional -- use it if you want a thicker chili with a more intense tomato flavor, but I discovered last night that I was out of tomato paste and it still worked fine). Then add a can of chili hot beans (pinto beans with a seasoned sauce -- the major bean brands like Bush's and most store brands seem to have a version of this).

Season to taste with chili powder, cumin, ground red pepper, black pepper, salt, Tabasco sauce or whatever. The tomatoes with chilis will add some heat automatically and the chili hot beans have a lot of the chili seasonings. You can simmer just long enough for it to get hot, or it can simmer a longer time to let the flavors blend better. Serve with crackers, tortilla chips or corn bread. If you want to get fancy, garnish with grated cheese and diced onions, or whatever floats your boat. I think this will make at least four servings. For me, I get a lot of leftovers and usually freeze a couple of servings. I have used this as a burrito filling, where I put some in a flour tortilla with some cheese grated on top, roll up the tortilla and brown it in a skillet. Make the ground beef crumbles smaller, use the tomato paste, and it makes for a hearty hot dip with tortilla chips.

And now since it's a wonderfully cool, crisp autumn morning, I'm going to take a walk.

It's New Year's Eve and I pretty much have all the "work" stuff done for the year, aside from that pesky thing about thinking of a new title for The New Project. I think my problem is that I like the working title, but I agree with my agent that it probably doesn't work and that the fun associations I have with that title only make sense in my head. Unfortunately, I've found myself visualizing the cover with that title, and now I can't seem to shake it. I've dug through poetry on related subjects, listened to my "soundtrack" for that book, searched collections of quotations, etc. I've found whole poems that are perfect, but no one neat line or phrase that would make a good title.

But I'm going to forget about that for today as I have a party to go to tonight. Maybe my subconscious will keep working on it and give me a revelation in the shower.

Now, for that fun thing I hinted at yesterday: Here's how to make the meringue mushrooms! I was going to call them Magical Mushrooms, since I am a fantasy writer and they do look like something out of fairy land, but then I remembered that there's an entirely different connotation to that term. So, anyway, here's the how-to, with some pretty bad photo illustrations (taking pictures of yourself at very close range doing things that require two hands is something of a challenge). The recipe is inspired by/adapted from/expanded from something I found in the Pillsbury Complete Book of Baking (which I swiped from my mom, but I don't think she minded, since that means I'm the one to bake).

Start with two egg whites at room temperature. Add a quarter teaspoon cream of tartar and beat until they're really foamy. Gradually add 1/2 cup of sugar, one tablespoon at a time, beating thoroughly after each addition. Keep beating until the egg whites are glossy, the sugar is thoroughly mixed in, and stiff peaks form (when you lift the beaters, it leaves peaks whose tops don't flop over).



Heat the oven to 200 degrees (Fahrenheit). Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper. Using a pastry press or a pastry bag with a tip that has about a 1/4 inch opening, make the mushroom caps by squirting out egg white blobs that are about an inch in diameter. Do this by keeping the tip close to the cookie sheet and holding it there while you squeeze. You'll end up with some peaks on the caps that look like the top of a soft-serve ice cream cone. If you want to smooth them out to look more like mushrooms, press the peaks down with the back of a damp spoon (if you use a dry spoon, you'll just get more peaks). Make about 50 caps.



Sift unsweetened cocoa powder over the tops of the caps. I used half of a mesh tea ball because I figured the sifter might be overkill.



Bake the caps at 200 degrees for 40-60 minutes. Baking time will vary widely depending on the humidity, as you're more drying than baking. The first time I made these, it was fairly normal humidity, and it took about ten minutes longer than the second time, when it was really dry, and I think they were a bit overdone (I had a few shatter on me).


While the caps are baking, line another cookie sheet with parchment paper and make the stems. The recipe says to make vertical stems about 3/4 inch high, but good luck getting it to cut off that easily. I found it worked best to just barely start squeezing, then pull straight up without squeezing. They're not going to be uniform, but then real mushrooms aren't, either, so it's okay. Make at least as many stems as you make caps, but I would suggest making some extras (you'll probably have enough egg whites). They have a nasty habit of flopping over or going weird.



You'll know the caps are done when they release easily from the parchment. When they aren't done, the inside of the cap will try to stick to the paper. As soon as you take the caps out of the oven (after putting the stems in the oven), take the caps off the paper and use your finger to make a dent in the bottom. I found that it works best when they aren't totally dried out, with the insides still slightly soft, and then you can kind of poke through the bottom to make a good dent. As you dent the bottoms, move them off the cookie sheet to cool.



The stems will bake for about 35-45 minutes (again, less time if it's really dry, more time if it's humid). They're done when you can easily lift them off the parchment paper. Remove them from the cookie sheet right away and let them cool (that doesn't take long). Melt 2 ounces of semi-sweet chocolate (I unwrapped four squares of dark chocolate Dove Promises, nuked on high for a minute, stirred, then put back in the microwave for 30 more seconds). It works best if the chocolate isn't entirely liquid. Stop melting while there are still obvious pieces of chocolate and then stir. This serves as the "glue" to put the mushrooms together, so you want "soft" more than "liquid." Put a dab of chocolate into the dent on the bottom of the cap.



Then stick a stem, pointed end up, into the chocolate. I found it worked best when I flicked off the very tips of the stems (they're really, really dry). Ta da! You've got a mushroom.



Let the chocolate cool/dry completely, then store the mushrooms loosely covered. Here are the finished mushrooms:



Have a happy New Year!

We had one of our patented Texas climate changes yesterday. I love those kinds of days, where it starts out one way and ends another. By noon, I was having to open all the windows and turn on the ceiling fans to keep the house from getting too hot and stuffy. By dinner time, I was having to turn off the fans and close the windows because it was too cold. In the meantime, I could hear and feel the front come through as the wind shifted and changed temperatures, which was rather cool.

I'm about midway through going over the page proofs for Don't Hex With Texas. It took me a while to get into it because I couldn't find the right work environment. I needed access to my computer because I'd entered the copy edit changes in "track changes" mode on the manuscript, and most of the galley errors come in entering copy edit changes, so I wanted to be able to double check that. But I also had a big pile of hard copy to go through. Sitting at my desk meant turning constantly (plus there is the issue of the totally messy desk). I finally put my sheepskin rug my parents sent me from Australia on the floor in front of the chaise and my computer on a lap desk next to me, so I could sit on the floor, lean back against the chaise, put the hard copy on my lap and have the computer nearby. Between writing while sitting on the chaise and proofreading while lounging on a sheepskin rug, I'm starting to feel like I should be wearing silk pajamas to work instead of sweats.

Because my brain seems to operate on tape delay, it struck me just before I went to sleep last night that it might have been easier to illustrate the difference between kitchen sink writing and strengthening the central conflict with an example that more closely parallels my "what not to do" example. Then it occurred to me that The Philadelphia Story is a great example because it's fairly parallel. Like The Family Stone, it's a romantic comedy about a central character wanting to marry someone the rest of the family isn't wild about, it takes place under chaotic circumstances and in a short span of time.
( Example Explained )

Now, by request, here's the recipe for the spicy shrimp and corn chowder. It's loosely based on a recipe I found in Parade magazine last year, but with my own adaptations:( Recipe behind cut )