View allAll Photos Tagged breadcrumbs
Chicken Bites with Chips & Peas.
Delivery problems meant no fish available so the substitute was chicken.
Sheffield. South Yorkshire.
It seems that every squirrel that I photograph has a smile on his face. I suppose it might have something to do with the amount of food they get or perhaps it's the way we talk to them that gets them accustomed to us.
We used to breed canaries and, at the breeding season, give them some "egg and biscuit" supplement, a nutritious mix for healthy baby birds and they loved it. So, when I prepare veal schnitzels for us and there is some leftover egg & breadcrumbs, I place it on the shed roof to make wild birds happy and healthy. Today, it attracted Valentino the Kookaburra (I didn't know he liked that !), Arthur the Noisy Miner, Pete the Pied Currawong and Maggie the Magpie :)
At home
Salad
Pork schnitzels
Boiled new potatoes
Pepsi Max & ice for me
Water & ice for Mrs P
My wife made the salad, she beat the pork and dipped it in breadcrumbs. I fried the schnitzels in sunflower oil. We put them in the oven to keep warm until the potatoes had boiled.
Lots of potatoes left over for today.
Stacksteads
Lancashire
Die Fischerhütte am Toplitzsee war das Ziel unserer ersten kleinen Wanderung im letzten Salzkammergut-Urulaub. Angetrieben hat uns der Gusto auf die Spezialität diese gastlichen Hütte schlechthin, nämlich Saibling aus den lokalen Seen in einer mit Mandel-Splittern bestreuten Panier. Schmeckt immer wieder fantastisch !
The Fisher's hut on Lake Toplitz was the destination of our first short hike on our last holiday in the Salzkammergut. We were driven by a taste for the speciality of this hospitable hut par excellence, namely char from the local lakes in breadcrumbs sprinkled with almond slivers. Always tastes fantastic !
First, you need to make a béchamel sauce over a low heat, using milk, flour, olive oil or butter and other ingredients.
In this case, different previously cooked and then ground meats have been added to the béchamel sauce, such as beef, chicken, ham, as well as boiled egg, pieces of garlic and onion, and some secret ingredient.
Finally, small balls are made and coated in flour, breadcrumbs and/or corn flakes.
Unless some of the diners are celiac, in which case compatible flours will be used.
The last step is to fry the croquettes with virgin olive oil or sunflower oil, according to personal taste.
It is advisable to serve them before they cool down. They are much tastier at a certain temperature.
ETYMOLOGY: The word croquette is of French origin, derived from croquer, which means "to crunch." In the 18th century, it was normally written "croquet." (Source: Wikipedia)
CROQUETA CASERA ANTES DE FREIR, 2024
Primero es necesario hacer una bechamel a fuego lento, usando leche, harina, aceite de oliva o mantequilla y otros ingredientes.
En este caso a la bechamel se le han añadido diferentes carnes cocidas previamente y luego trituradas, como ternera, pollo, jamón, además de huevo cocido, trocitos de ajo y cebolla, además algún ingrediente secreto.
Finalmente se hacen pequeñas bolas que se rebozan en harina, pan rallado y/o en copos de maíz.
A menos que algunos de los comensales sean celíacos, que se usaremos harinas compatibles.
El último paso es freír las croquetas con aceite virgen de oliva o aceite de girasol, según el gusto personal.
Recomendable servirlas antes de que se enfríen. Están mucho más ricas con cierta temperatura.
ETIMOLOGÍA: La palabra croqueta es de origen francés, derivada de croquer, que significa "crujir". En el siglo XVIII, normalmente se escribía "croquet". (Fuente: Wikipedia)
explore on Jan 7, 2009 #337
when i put down the tomatoes on the coffee table, doh came and sniffed it then went away. so i put a bit of breadcrumb under the tomatoes to get this shot, otherwise he wouldn't sit down that close.
i only rotated, cropped and adjusted the curves a little.
here we go :D
All it took to set him off was one single hair. Human, animal, synthetic – didn’t matter.
If it was in or near his food, that was it – he stopped eating. Pushed his plate away, made his repulsed face and, often as not, dressed down the wife for her sloppy habits in the kitchen.
If the hair was on his clothing, he would change. Immediately. And, often as not, dress down the wife for her lousy skills with the laundry.
If the hair was on the furniture, he would leave the room. The wife would take the point about her awful housekeeping.
Through it all she kept her own long black hair twisted tight in a high round bun.
The kids made fun of it. God knew why. But they found that mound of hair atop her head ridiculously funny. One of their favourite games was to sneak up behind her with something long and skinny like a pencil and… for simple amusement… impale the bun, running it through like the loser in a sword fight.
Sometimes she’d feel the intrusion and swat at the offending child while the others laughed. Other times she had no clue, and that made the children laugh even harder.
She took her hair very seriously. Once a week, she washed it, combed it out and rolled it up with bobby pins and pink foam curlers with rectangular plastic snaps. Her hair had always been stick straight, and she liked it curly. Not that anyone saw. As soon as the pins and foam came out, the hair was quickly re-bunned. And that was it. Till the next week.
When it was loose, it fell almost to her waist.
It made her feel young and girlish and coquettish.
Her husband glowered. “You look like a fucking Indian,” he said one time, after she had touched up her grey and gone, by accident, a bit too dark.
Another time he told her it made her look old… all that long hair, dragging down her face.
Another time, moved to kindness by her birthday or some such occasion, he offered to spring for a trip to the salon, so she could “finally get it done properly.”
And he was constantly finding hairs, and removing them from wherever… and making a great drama of it… extending an arm in super-slow motion, and widening his eyes in horror and revulsion as he demonstrated the sickening length of each and every find.
He had no idea how much these comments and demonstrations of disgust hurt her. How they undermined her sense of worth, her self esteem, her very sense of woman-ness. Long hair, to her, was synonymous with beauty and femininity.
To him it was a pain in the ass. A cross to bear. A health hazard.
And so she expected he’d be pleased (maybe even delighted) when she had it cut.
She went to a neighbour, a woman who made extra money for her family by doing people’s hair; self-taught, she called herself. They did it in her kitchen, with dirty dishes and dustballs and crumbs for witnesses. Partway through… with one side short, the other hanging wet and lank… the hairdresser ran to the dining room, shouting apologies, to take her naked toddler off the table, where the kid had been sliding, crotch down. There was wailing and struggling and a few minutes passed.
The wife sat alone and looked at her two different sides in the mirror – short-haired, long-haired. She thought the husband had been right after all. The long hair really did add years.
She smiled as the scissors resumed their slow chop-grind through the thick heavy bunches of her hair.
Afterwards, the hairdresser offered to blow it dry. At first the wife resisted. She wanted to go straight home and put it up in pins and rollers. But she told herself, “No – this is the New Me, the Modern Me, and the New Modern Me will embrace this new, electric technology and be on the cutting edge of fashion.”
So she got the curling iron, too.
The hairdresser rolled the wife’s hair under, all the way around, like a circle of sausage. It swung and shone when she moved her head. It looked so different. And it felt so light. And the wife thought, “I look so young!”
The hairdresser offered coffee and cookies to celebrate. The wife accepted. Then she glanced at the dining room table where the coffee things were being laid out, and remembered… no, not a surface she would like to eat from. She made an excuse about being pressed for time, paid the woman, and walked back home.
She couldn’t wait to show her husband. Tried on four or five different outfits that afternoon, seeking one that would show off her hair to best advantage.
She made his favourite dinner. Hamburgers and mashed potatoes. Sang a little song as her hands worked the speckly meat and breadcrumbs and seasonings into neat round patties.
The kids came home from school. “Wow!” they said. “You look great, Mom!” and “Wait till Dad sees – boy oh boy, is he gonna love it!”
She asked the kids not to say anything to Dad. They agreed. And soon he was home.
The wife stole one last glance at herself in the mirror as he walked in the door.
He said nothing beyond the usual “Hi” and “Damn am I tired” and of course “What’s for dinner?” He smiled when she told him hamburgers and mashed potatoes. But that was it. He didn’t say a thing about her appearance. She figured he was waiting till later… maybe after the kids were in bed. Then he’d show her how impressed he was.
But bedtime came and went and… nothing. Not a word about the hair from the husband.
She waited and waited. And hoped and hoped. But... nothing.
Finally she went and stood before him in the living room, straightening up, making her neck long, sure he couldn’t possibly avoid seeing such a dramatic change. The hair now curled just below her ears… a good 18 inches shorter than it had been.
“Notice anything different?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “You’re in my way. I’m trying to watch the game. Do you mind?”
All the buoyant joy she’d felt drained from her in an instant.
Deflated, stunned, sick… she turned and walked away.
In the hallway she stopped, leaned against the wall. And cried. Silently but hard.
She put one hand to her puffing face, and wiped at her eyes and nose and, without even meaning to, felt her hair. Her bouncy swingy pretty young hair. She felt like an idiot. Felt like the stupidest woman in the world, having gotten her hopes up.
And then she heard the sound of springs.
And the TV clicking off.
And slow heavy footsteps.
He was coming to her.
She slumped with relief. Then smiled. Straightened up. Wiped her eyes again. Smoothed her sausage curls. Filled with a new wave of hope and excitement.
And then he stopped.
He was behind her. Not saying anything.
She could hear him breathing.
She turned around. Smiling.
“I’m going to watch in the bedroom,” he said. “There’s a fucking hair on the couch.”
This young robin who now lives in my garden here in Bristol seems a rather shy and cautious little one.
Mind you with sparrow hawks and pet cats around, I certainly know why, and I don't blame her caution, for sure.
She hides in my garden border in a prickly hedge area.
When the Sun occasionally makes an appearance ✨️ she comes out of hiding as can be viewed in this image.
She is very vigilant, looking around nervously, constantly scanning all around her.
Unfortunately, as soon as she spots me with my camera, she reverts back into the relative safety of her hiding place.
With this in mind, I waited behind a garden parasol where she couldn't see me.
She popped out from the shade to sunbath and warm-up, then I managed to photograph her secretly !!!!!!
.... Ha ha' ha' 😄 ....
"Little Robin"
I'm a little robin who wants to chirp and play,
if you feed me breadcrumbs, I'll brighten up your day,
do you want to hear me sing, then breadcrumbs you should bring,
when Xmas comes a dinging well look for me, the little robin singing.
original poetry
by Sean.
Love and peace,
everyone. 😍
Day 14
It's not the best food photography shot I've done. dof could be wider. But it was a quick shot before dinner (didn't want it to get cold!)
Baked with breadcrumbs, parsley and olive oil.
Pentax 28-70/4, k-50
This is where we are heading on our cruise -
Llanddwyn Island.
This is a small tidal island off the west coast of Anglesey North West Wales.
The nearest settlement is the village of Newborough.
In 2004 this was used to film romantic thriller
[ Half Light with Demi Moore.
Twr Mawr was used as a lighthouse in the film
as it played a key role.
Also in 2009 Clash of The Titans, the Hollywood blockbuster
filmed a scene there.
Llanddwyn Island (Ynys Llanddwyn) is a magical place. Located at the far end of a pleasant beach near Newborough Warren, this narrow finger of land is an ideal picnic site during fine weather, but also an exhilarating place when the winter winds blow. Its rolling dunes, large rock outcrops and mixture of historic buildings makes it an ideal place for an afternoon of exploration.
Llanddwyn is not quite an island. It remains attached to the mainland at all but the highest tides. It provides excellent views of Snowdonia and the Lleyn Peninsula and is part of the Newborough Warren National Nature Reserve. You can find Llanddwyn Island with this map or see an aerial view on Google Maps.
St. Dwynwen
Nothing wins hearts like cheerfulness - St. Dwynwen
The name Llanddwyn means "The church of St. Dwynwen". She is the Welsh patron saint of lovers, making her the Welsh equivalent of St. Valentine. Her feast day, 25 January, is often celebrated by the Welsh with cards and flowers, just as is 14 February for St. Valentine.
Ruins of Llanddwyn Chapel
Ruins of Llanddwyn Chapel
Dwynwen lived during the 5th century AD and was one of 24 daughters of St. Brychan, a Welsh prince of Brycheiniog (Brecon). She fell in love with a young man named Maelon, but rejected his advances. This, depending on which story you read, was either because she wished to remain chaste and become a nun or because her father wished her to marry another. She prayed to be released from the unhappy love and dreamed that she was given a potion to do this. However, the potion turned Maelon to ice. She then prayed that she be granted three wishes: 1) that Maelon be revived, 2) that all true lovers find happiness, and 3) that she should never again wish to be married. She then retreated to the solitude of Llanddwyn Island to follow the life of a hermit.
Lleyn Peninsula across Llanddwyn Bay
Lleyn Peninsula across Llanddwyn Bay
Dwynwen became known as the patron saint of lovers and pilgrimages were made to her holy well on the island. It was said that the faithfulness of a lover could be divined through the movements of some eels that lived in the well. This was done by the woman first scattering breadcrumbs on the surface, then laying her handkerchief on the surface. If the eel disturbed it then her lover would be faithful.
Visitors would leave offerings at her shrine, and so popular was this place of pilgrimage that it became the richest in the area during Tudor times. This funded a substantial chapel that was built in the 16th century on the site of Dwynwen's original chapel. The ruins of this can still be seen today.
Maritime History
Llanddwyn Island is situated near the southern entrance to the Menai Strait. As a result it became important as shipping of slate from the ports of Bangor, Caernarfon and Felinhelli increased. A beacon, called Tŵr Bach, was built at the tip of the island to provide guidance to ships heading for the Strait. Another more effective lighthouse, Tŵr Mawr, which was modelled on the windmills of Anglesey, was built nearby in 1845. The older lighthouse has now returned to service after a modern light was placed on top.
Rainbow over Llanddwyn Island
Rainbow over Llanddwyn Island
During this time cottages were built near the towers to house pilots who guided ships into the Strait. Two of these cottages have been restored, with one housing an exhibition about the local wildlife. From 1840 a lifeboat was also stationed there. It was manned by the pilots as well as volunteers from Newborough; the cannon that was used to summon the lifeboat crew can still be seen near the cottages. During its time up to the closure in 1903 the lifeboat from here saved 101 lives in 35 separate incidents.
Natural History
Llanddwyn Island is part of the Newborough Warren National Nature Reserve. The dunes, mudflats and saltmarshes of the reserve support a wide range of plants and invertebrates. The flowers found on the Island include herb-robert (Geranium robertianum), bird's-foot trefoil (Lotus corniculatus), thrift (Armeria maritima), bluebells (Hyacinthoides non-scripta) and yellow horned poppies (Glaucium flavum).
The cliffs around the island support a wide variety of nesting seabirds, including cormorants, shags and oystercatchers. Ynys yr Adar (Bird Rock), a small islet off the tip of Llanddwyn, throngs during the spring with one percent of the total British breeding population of cormorants. Waders such as turnstones and sandpipers are found along the coast and terns can be seen fishing in the bay. The mammal population is supplemented by a flock of the unusual Soay sheep that graze near the chapel.
As you approach the island you pass between several large rocks in the sand. These are pillow lavas, part of the Precambrian Gwna Group. These mounds of rock were formed by undersea volcanic eruptions; as the hot molten rock met the cold seawater a ballon-like skin was formed, which then filled with more lava, forming the characteristic pillow shape. These extend down much of the length of Llanddwyn Island, giving it its interesting rolling topography, and are also found in many other places around Anglesey.
Unusual vapor trails over Las Vegas, made by three jet aircraft in formation. By the time I grabbed the camera, they had disappeared, but their breadcrumbs aloft remained.
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Penelope Prim (as Gretel):
"Hey HANSEL ... Did you bring the breadcrumbs?"
Carrington, our Princess (a la Mode) ... (as Hansel, obviously): :
"The Props Department wouldn't let me take any bread ...
something about needing it for a Blythe-A-Day photoshoot later this month ...
. . . and don't call me 'HANSEL'. "
Penelope Prim: "Sorry, Your Highness ... "
~
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BLYTHE-A-DAY
A flickr Group
MAY 2023
DAY 28: "HANSEL and GRETEL"
~
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apple crumble removed from the oven
i've decided to use the mini oven flic.kr/p/2m3gaso more often and today fancied making an apple crumble. i already had the crumble ingredients and bought the bramley apples from sainsburys. i haven't made a crumble for many years but will be doing it again
apple crumble recipe by nigel slater www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2004/oct/17/foodanddrink...
Damson Almond Crumble serves 6
(i swapped the damsons for bramley apples and didn't precook)
650-700g plums or damsons
4 tbsp caster sugar or more to taste
a thin slice of butter
For the crumble:
150g plain flour
100g butter
50g ground almonds
75g caster or light brown sugar
Put the damsons in a shallow pan with the sugar and the butter and a tablespoon or two of water. Cook over a moderate heat until the juices start to flow from the damsons, probably about 5 minutes, depending on the ripeness of your fruit. Tip the fruit and the juice into a deep pie dish.
Rub the butter, which should ideally be cold from the fridge, into the flour with your fingertips. When the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs, stir in the almonds and sugar. Sprinkle a tablespoon of water over the mixture and stir lightly with a fork. Some of the crumbs should stick together in small lumps - this gives a more interesting crumble.
Scatter the crumble over the fruit, then bake in a preheated oven at 200C/gas mark 6 for about 35 minutes. The crumble is done when the crumbs are pale gold and some juice has, hopefully, soaked through the crust. Serve with thick golden cream www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2004/oct/17/foodanddrink...
7 days 30 different plant based foods flic.kr/p/2pDzPii
just one thing with michael mosley
food special with professor tim spector
7 days 30 different plant based foods
www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m001ngjx
ps i'm not recommending any of these cookery adventures. they suit my personal taste. photographing to encourage myself to eat more healthily ...
i've created a new group www.flickr.com/groups/cooking_is_my_hobby/ to gather ideas and encourage myself to continue with healthy eating by learning from others if you're interested in cooking, sometimes or a lot, or enjoy the cooking of others, you're always welcome ...
10/365
Our fresh eggs in nests of breadcrumbs and two cheeses, over a bed of sauteed onions. The potential for future chicken, you could say. ;)
What makes food shopping in Amersfoort so special is the stories behind local businesses and that many of them work together to make the best tasting delicacies for their customers. For example, the croquette from the Vlaamse Friethuis is made of the breadcrumbs from the town’s baker, filled with ragú made of wild boar meat from the local butcher. The food tastes so good because the business owners can source the ingredients locally.
Her mind doesn't work in the way that it used to anymore. It’s misplaced and untrusting. Her eyelids stroke and days go by. All ability to perceive time has gone. Countlessly finding herself far off into the country, with no clues or breadcrumbs to guide her. She’s lost in a world she can’t understand or control. Clarity has become a thing of the past, but she’s still waiting to see a familiar face one day, to make sense of it all.
Svartifoss Waterfall, Skaftafell, Iceland. 2015
Behind the Scenes - www.zukephotography.com/blog/2015/8/29/behind-the-scenes-...
Facebook - www.facebook.com/zukephoto
They're ploughing through loads of it just now. The nyjer feeder was refilled about tea time Saturday and it's down to a low quarter capacity already. I don''t know how these tiny birds can shift so much... Sunflower hearts also disappearing quite quickly... Feed for wild birds used to be breadcrumbs or an odd half coconut shell filled with beef fat from the kitchen hung upside down for the blue tits - but who has beef fat these days?
The Festival of Saint Agatha (Italian: La festa di sant'Agata; Sicilian: A fest' 'i sant'Àjita) is the most important religious festival of Catania, Sicily, commemorating the life of the city's patron saint, Agatha of Sicily. It is among the largest Catholic religious festivals in the world, in terms of participants and spectators. It takes place annually from 3 to 5 February, and on 17 August. The earlier dates commemorate the martyrdom of the Catanian saint, while the latter date celebrates the return of her remains from Constantinople.
Sicilians celebrate Saint Agatha for her purported intercession to avert danger during eruptions of Mount Etna, earthquakes, and some epidemics that had affected Catania. There is also an underlying theme of Christian resistance to Pagan oppression.
The three day festival begins at noon on 3 February with a procession known as "della luminaria". Cannalori, sixteen large candles in baroque gilt casings that proceeds from the Church of Sant'Agata alla Fornace to the Cathedral of St. Agatha. Each candelora represents one of the medieval guilds. At 3.00 PM, a cross-country race takes place through the streets of town. This is followed in the evening by a concert in the Piazza del Duomo and fireworks.
The next day, after the Messa dell'Aurora (Italian for 'Mass at Dawn'), a reliquary-bust of St. Agatha atop a silver fercola or carriage leaves the cathedral and is pulled through the neighborhoods, passing places associated with the life of the saint. The devoted followers wear the traditional white tunic that covers the body down to the ankles and is tied at the waist with a rope. The celebrations continue through the night. Gaily decorated kiosks sell traditional street food such as arancini (rice balls) and beccafico sardines (with breadcrumbs, pine nuts and raisins).
On the 5th, there is again a procession after Mass. The heavy silver carriage is pulled up a steep slope. Successful passage is considered to bode well for the rest of the year.
This is just a sketch I quickly threw together to give me a base design for my tactical batman suit when i paint it. I know its not that symmetrical especially the bat symbol but i'll probably update the design before I go to paint he final figure. please leave your thoughts below and let me would you like to see more wins like this as i often sketch more complex designs before I paint them.
thanks :)
I found this little one hanging from a line - unusual for a jumping spider, though I've witnessed it several times. Although jumpers don't make webs with which to catch prey, they're still capable of producing silk. They use it for transportation - for ballooning, or for getting around like the one here. They use it like a "breadcrumb trail" to know where they've been and also as a safety line, letting it out behind as they explore. They can use it as a tether so that when they leap into space to catch prey, they can return to their point of origin. And they can weave a cozy little retreat out of it to hunker down in for winter, or protection when molting, or to lay their eggs in.
I photographed this one in Texas, but I often see the same species back home in Virginia. BugGuide shows its range covering most states in the eastern half of the US.
16 Arachtober 2019
Colonus sylvanus
Previously Thiodina sylvana
Oleander Acres RV Resort, Mission, TX
20 November 2018
Pigeons, swans and ducks trying to get their share of breadcrumbs. Banks of the Yonne river in Auxerre (Burgundy).
Auxerre, France
April 2018
500px: 500px.com/photo/268501521
This little sparrow is so young he still has his white baby feathers but already he's bold with a flair for begging. His patience paid off when he was tossed the much desired breadcrumbs.
I so love the little Robins ... you dig the soil and they sit on your fork, the most trusting of little birds. So, they have little treats at this time of year.
Year 2088.
A revolutionary leap in advanced rocket propulsion had shattered old frontiers. Humanity, no longer bound by the confines of the Solar System, began reaching outward—toward the stars. The great powers turned their gaze to neighboring systems, launching expeditions with relentless ambition.
The Russian nuclear space fleet advanced methodically, planetoid by planetoid, laying down autonomous research outposts like breadcrumbs across the void. Each mission, another step into the unknown.
Sergey was just another crew member—an astronaut trained more by circumstance than destiny. He and a small team had been deployed to a nameless, rock-strewn world. It didn’t even earn the dignity of a name, only a five-character alphanumeric code. But it had an atmosphere—and in deep space, that alone was enough to warrant interest.
Above him, the sky ignited with the light of departing ships—bright arcs carving through the dark as the fleet accelerated toward the next target. Sergey trudged across the desolate stone wastes, unaware that just beneath his boots, something ancient and alive stirred.
Unaware that fate had chosen him—a quiet man from Bryansk—for a moment that would forever divide human history into two eras: Before Contact… and After.
The parasol mushroom (Macrolepiota procera or Lepiota procera) is a basidiomycete fungus with a large, prominent fruiting body resembling a parasol. It is a fairly common species on well-drained soils. It is found solitary or in groups and fairy rings in pastures and occasionally in woodland. Globally, it is widespread in temperate regions.
It is a very sought after and popular fungus in Europe, due in part to its large size, seasonal frequency and versatility in the kitchen. In the UK, it may be found from July through to November.
The parasol mushroom is difficult to mistake for any other, especially in regions like Europe where the poisonous look-alike Chlorophyllum molybdites does not occur. Nevertheless, as with picking any fungus for consumption, caution should be exercised at all times.
The parasol mushroom may not be eaten raw, because it is slightly toxic.
These mushrooms are popular food item when sauteed in melted butter. In central and eastern European countries this mushroom is usually prepared similarly to a cutlet. It is usually run through egg and breadcrumbs and then fried in a pan with some oil or butter. Served with white bread, it makes a delicious meal during summer and early fall. A savory Slovak recipe is to bake caps stuffed with ground pork, oregano, and garlic. Italians and Austrians also serve the young, still spherical caps stuffed with seasoned minced beef, baked in the same manner as stuffed peppers.
ОСТРОУМОВА-ЛЕБЕДЕВА - Версаль
☆📝
Private collection.
Christie's London, Russian Art, June 2019.
Sources: www.christies.com/lot/lot-6206230?ldp_breadcrumb=back&...
en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anna_Ostroumova-Lebedeva
Another copy of the Versailles sketch, dated 1907, I found in the collection of the Russian Museum: rusmuseumvrm.ru/data/collections/engraving/gr-41191/index...
Rus: Ещё один авторский оттиск версальского эскиза, датируемый 1907 годом, я нашел в коллекции Русского музея.
Photo © Alida Thorpe;
The Bird of Truth is a Spanish fairy tale collected by Cecilia Böhl de Faber in her Cuentos de encantamiento. Andrew Lang included it in The Orange Fairy Book.
A fisherman found two beautiful children in a crystal cradle, a girl and a boy, floating in the river. He brought them to his wife to raise as their own. As the babies grew, their older brothers were cruel to them and the boy and the girl often ran away to the riverbank, where they would feed breadcrumbs to the birds. In gratitude, the birds taught them to speak their language...
According to the history books, suet received one of its earliest mentions in a recipe dated 1617. It was noted as the key ingredient for 'Cambridge Pudding' or 'College Pudding', so-called because it was served to Cambridge students in their college halls. This was a suet pudding made with currants and minced dates, together with milk, sugar, eggs and breadcrumbs, which was then tied up in a pudding cloth and boiled.
Two hundred years later, Gabriel Hugon, a Frenchman who lived in Manchester, set up the first-ever factory to manufacture shredded suet - an act which was to revolutionise suet cooking.
It was deserted when I reached the lonely crossing to Holy Island. The tide was out, revealing the way across but I felt like a misguided Egyptian who was following the Israelites after Moses had parted the sea, and at any moment the waves would rush back in and consume me as I stood in the middle in the semi-darkness. But I wasn't alone. A dark rock lying near me suddenly moved and I realised it was a baby seal abandoned by its mother, and further on I found a plaice or flounder flapping and gasping for air where it had become stranded by the side of the roadway as the ocean ebbed away. I decided I would be kind, like the Good Samaritan, and not pass it by, and carry the fish back to the water instead of taking it back to the caravan to fry in breadcrumbs or giving it to the seal to eat. But on placing it in the water it turned white side upwards, gulped a few more times and sank slowly to the bottom without moving anymore. Carrying on from that terrible no man's land I was wracked with guilt. Should I have tried harder to resuscitate the fish? Would the seal's mother return to it? Had it been orphaned? Should I have given the fish to it? Would it now perish because it had nothing to eat? It was as if God had put me in this dilemma, like when Moses went into the outback with a stick that turned into a snake and then into a stair rod. What did God want me to do? What was he trying to tell me? I was all confused dot com . Who should I save?
115/365.
I planned this shoot a couple of weeks ago as sort of a continuation of this photo of mine, except I was going to use a trail of breadcrumbs with myself holding the rest of the loaf. My bread got thrown out apparently, so I just shot it without regardless, and I'm still pretty happy with how it turned out!
I decided to use a red blindfold instead of carrying on with black after seeing how well it worked out in Sarahs photo.
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Extra cheese holds these tender meatballs together perfectly without any type of flour. A breeze to whip up makes this the perfect weeknight dinner for everyone and leaves you plenty of time to whip up a Keto Cheesecake for dessert! We use all ground beef in these meatballs, but they work well with other types of ground meat as well. Ground turkey and ground pork both are great or a combination of ground pork and beef makes for exceptional meatballs. To make these extra tender, handle them as little as possible. Just like a cake, the more you mix and mess with meatballs, the tougher they become! If you find these hard to form at all because of the lack of breadcrumbs, wet your hands slightly to help keep them from sticking to your hands.
INGREDIENTS
FOR THE MEATBALLS
1 lb. ground beef
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 c. shredded mozzarella
1/4 c. freshly grated Parmesan, plus more for serving
2 tbsp. freshly chopped parsley
1 large egg, beaten
1 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
2 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
FOR THE SAUCE
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 (28-oz.) can crushed tomatoes
1 tsp. dried oregano
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
DIRECTIONS
In a large bowl combine beef, garlic, mozzarella, Parmesan, parsley, egg, salt, and pepper. Form into 16 meatballs.
In a large skillet over medium heat, heat oil. Add meatballs and cook, turning occasionally, until golden on all sides, about 10 minutes. Remove from the skillet and place on a paper towel-lined plate.
To the same skillet, add onion and cook until soft, 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook until fragrant, 1 minute more. Add tomatoes and oregano and season with salt and pepper.
Add meatballs back to skillet, cover and simmer until sauce has thickened, 15 minutes. Garnish with Parmesan before serving.
Do you want cookbook of keto recipes
Know more:
docs.google.com/document/d/1ELEZ-3gSKGjrtfXFnJSnPB6bMsPzV...
Recipe at www.foodmedic.com
Hard Tofu crusted with seasoned Panko breadcrumbs pan fried then baked with mozzarella cheese, marinara sauce, sliced garlic and fresh basil. Served with fresh spaghetti in a marinara sauce. This will fool a meat eater completely.
A rat poking his head out of the ivy to see if the coast is clear. I was attempting to take a shot of a robin when I heard some rustling in the hedge, I turned around to see what at first I thought was a squirrel. On closer inspection through the lens I wound it up to 600 mm to see it was a brown rat, not often we see a rat in daylight hours in the UK especially in a country park with so many dogs and walkers. Someone had put out a few breadcrumbs for the birds and it was these that I think he was after. I was rather happy I had got this shot.