Hi, Lulu. This is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow for Jazz Age Wednesdays.
Bushwa! I was too excited to stay cooped up in your brain. It’s time to launch John & Gwen’s new book. You didn’t forget did you?
Don’t give me that look, Lulu. Of course I didn’t forget. Oh, there’s a bit of horseradish on your cheek. Was it another late night with free flowing giggle water? Never mind — I don’t think I want to know. On to the main attraction. Here’s John and Gwen to tell us all about their book.
Take it away John and Gwen!
The CONTRACT
between heaven and earth
By John W. Howell & Gwen M. Plano
Thank you, Teagan and Lulu, for inviting us to join you today. We are so grateful to be featured on your blog to share a little about our new book. All your stories are so fanciful and good and we think some elements of ours would be comfortable here. All the best to you!
The CONTRACT is a different story for writers John W. Howell and Gwen M. Plano. For either of them, it is their first attempt at co-authorship. After a year of Hurricane Harvey and other challenges, they have created, what they have termed, an inspirational thriller that bridges heaven and earth.
Here is the blurb:
The earth is threatened with a catastrophic political event which could result in international warfare and destroy all life on the planet. In heaven, a divine council decides that extraordinary measures are essential. They call for an intervention that involves two souls returning to earth. The chosen two sign a contract that they will work to avert the disaster.
Brad Channing, a Navy SEAL, and Sarah O’Brien, a teacher, become heaven’s representatives on earth. The story follows them as they individually and then together face overwhelming obstacles and eventually end up on a strategic Air Force base in California. It is there that they discover a conspiracy to assassinate the President of the United States. The terrorists have a plan for global dominance, and they are determined to complete their mission. Although military leadership appears to have the President’s best interests at heart, it is not clear who can be trusted and who should be feared. The action is rough and tumble as Brad and Sarah try to figure out the culprits for the plot that will turn into a worldwide conflagration unless stopped.
If you enjoy thrillers, this is one with enough twists and adventure to keep you riveted and guessing. If you like your thriller along with a good romance, Brad and Sarah’s initial attraction and eventual love will sustain you as they live out their heavenly and earthly desires.
He stood listening to the whoop-whoop of a helicopter approaching from somewhere beyond the tree line. He didn’t like the sound and could see no reason for anyone to fly a chopper at such a low altitude. His experiences in the Middle East alerted him to an imminent attack. “Something’s not right, Sarah.” Agitated, Brad’s voice held urgency.
He gripped Sarah’s upper arms and stared down at her. “Jump in the water and swim to the shore. Do not look back.”
Confusion darkened her brow,but then she glanced over Brad’s shoulder.A low-flying helicopter approached. Without further hesitation, she did exactlyas Brad had advised and dove into the water.
Brad pulled out his semi-automatic, but not soon enough, and could not get off a shot before a flurry of 7.62 mm bullets pelted the vessel, throwing pieces of the cabin into the air. Brad took cover behind what he figured would be the sturdiest part of the boat. The chopper turned. For sure, the next pass would bring even more destruction. Obviously, these guys meant business. What looked like automatic weapons protruded from the open door, which meant one thing: he needed to get off the boat before the mini-guns opened up for what would—in all probability—be the last time.
Not waiting any longer, Brad darted to the edge of the boat and dove over the side. When he surfaced, he saw the boat being riddled with gunfire. It wasn’t more than a second until the fuel tanks could take no more and erupted with a force that sent him tumbling through the water.
Authors Bio
John began his writing as a full-time occupation after an extensive business career. His specialty is thriller fiction novels, but John also writes poetry and short stories. His first book, My GRL, introduces the exciting adventures of the book’s central character, John J. Cannon. The second Cannon novel, His Revenge, continues the adventure, while the final book in the trilogy, Our Justice, launched in September 2016. The last, Circumstances of Childhood is a family life thriller story and launched October 2017. All books are available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle editions.
John lives in Port Aransas, Texas with his wife and their spoiled rescue pets.
Gwen had a lengthy career in higher education, and it was there that she published her first book, Beyond Boundaries, for students interested in volunteer work in developing countries. After she retired, she wrote her award-winning memoir, Letting Go into Perfect Love.
One of my favorite bloggers, Donna Parker, wrote about choices. Her post got me thinking — as it often does. Eventually my pondering turned to choices about writing. Despite the fact that writers are advised to choose one genre and stick to it, I think most of us like to dabble in various types of storytelling. I continue to dally with different styles, but my stick-to-it choice is fantasy.
I’ve been encouraged to write romances, but I leave that to the experts — like Mary. This time, the three things that fueled the steam locomotive to the Victorian Era were sent by Mary J. McCoy-Dressel.
Mary’s latest book, Of the Cowboy’s Own Accord, took off like a rocket. It reached #1 in Amazon’s ranking of best sellers in Contemporary Western Fiction. She describes herself as an author of sensual Contemporary Western Romance with strong family ties. I’m fond of calling it her dynasty of cowboys, but it would be more correct to say (as Mary puts it) she specializes in “gentlemen cowboys (with a touch of bad) & their feisty heroines.”
Our steam locomotive is rolling ’round the bend. Again, I’ve included some fun informative links in text and images. This time I’m also giving you a menu for a Victorian afternoon tea. All aboard!
As you’ll recall…
Our trio was on the run from three different groups of bad guys, including huge and dangerous trained chimpanzees, one of which gestured in sign language the word daddy. Felicity recognized the leader of one group by her voice — she was a woman from Copper’s town, but the woman in trousers couldn’t recall which townswoman possessed that voice.
Our heroes hid out at the pavilion of Alastair Wong, where alchemy gone awry gave them a map with a clue to where they might find Copper’s missing father. Still on the run, they boarded Cornelis Drebbel’s submarine where they met Absinthe, the Green Fairy. Subsequently the submarine ran aground in an amethyst world.
24. Straitlaced, Queen Anne Style Architecture, Harper’s Bazaar
The suited, bespectacled purple primate was a willing listener for Cornelis Drebbel. I wouldn’t have expected an ape to speak our language, even if he could talk. Nor would I have thought we would understand him. When I was about to ask, a significant look from Cornelis caused me to realize it had to be one of the Dutchman’s tricks at work, allowing us to communicate with one another.
Tea Gown by Charles Frederick Worth as seen in Harper’s Bazaar, December 1891
The alchemist gave the primate a full tour of the submarine. The amethyst ape soaked up every detail as Cornelis explained how the many inventions onboard were used in the navigation and other workings of the submarine. The ape seemed to have an astonishing scientific comprehension of what the Dutchman said in describing his inventions.
Cornelis had gone on about doppelgängers and was genuinely concerned about the consequences if one of us met our double in this perplexing purple place. I remembered Copper’s giggling exclamation comparing the straitlaced ape to her father. I thought it simply childish fantasy, but then I recalled how the Dutchman reacted to her words. He curled his lips inward in a rueful grimace and raised his bushy blonde eyebrows. Then he pursed his lips and inclined his head pointedly toward the purple primate. At that moment the ape reminded me very much of the portrait of Calvin Hixon.
I studied the primate’s face and tried to imagine a human version. My eyes grew wide. The amethyst ape was Calvin Hixon’s doppelgänger!
Cornelis was quite adept at reading facial expressions, no matter how fleeting. When he glanced my way he raised one eyebrow and gave half a nod to indicate he knew I had caught on to what he had figured out the first moment he saw the ape. It was no wonder he’d frozen in amazement when Copper and I had gotten out of the submarine. I finally understood why. I tried not to stare at the ape version of Copper’s daddy.
After Cornelis had shown off his favorite inventions, the ape invited us to tea. Cornelis wasn’t quick enough to hide his reluctance to disembark the submarine. The ape tried to encourage him by describing the setting and the Queen Anne style architecture of his charming home. I couldn’t help wondering if this amethyst world had held a purple primate version of Queen Anne, and suspected that it actually had. However, Copper was beside herself with excitement.
The Carson Mansion located in Eureka, California is considered one of the finest examples of American Queen Anne style architecture.
In a very discrete way, the alchemist worked the conversation around to inquire about the ape’s family life and whether he lived alone. Abruptly the purple primate puckered his face, looking very contrite. He bumped his palm to his brow and apologized profusely.
“I was so amazed and excited that I forgot to introduce myself. Can you ever forgive my lacking manners? Cal Hicks — at your service,” he said with a bow. “Penny will be devastated not to have met you. That’s my daughter. She’s away for the week, visiting her brother Nate and his wife.”
When the ape — or I should say Cal Hicks, mentioned his daughter-in-law he gave me the strangest, quizzical look. “Something in your manner puts me very much in mind of my delightful daughter-in-law,” he told me with a twinkle in his eye.
I was speechless. Could there be a purple ape version of me? And was she married to an ape version of Ignatius Belle? Surely not, it was incomprehensible! The ideas were a bit too much and I suddenly had a headache.
The ape didn’t know the reason behind the alchemist’s concern, but what he disclosed about his family reassured Cornelis that it was unlikely for any of us to run into our doppelgängers. With a little more please-pretty-please urging from Copper, Cronelis finally agreed. So we set out with Cal Hicks, the primate equivalent of Copper’s daddy, to have tea at his home.
A violet complected chimpanzee housekeeper graciously served tea with all the trimmings. She seemed delighted to have a chance to show off her skills, and served the perfect pot of tea to complement each course.
Sandwiches and Savories Smoked Salmon with Dill Butter on Dark Bread, garnished with Dill (open face half-moon sandwich)
Ham and Chopped Watercress with Basil Butter on Rye Bread (finger sandwich)
Thinly Sliced Cucumber & Chopped Mint with Mint Butter on White Bread (open face round sandwich) Chopped Egg and Diced Black Olives on Whole Wheat Bread (pinwheel sandwich)
***
Scones and Breads
*********
Enhancers
Devonshire Cream
Flavored Butters (Fruit, Herb & Spice)
Raspberry Preserves and Rose Petal Jam ***
Sweets
Served in a champagne or martini glass:
English Trifle with Heart-Shaped Hazelnut Shortbread Cookies
***
My cup rattled against its saucer. I was embarrassed to I spill my tea. Charming and hospitable as Cal Hicks was, the entire situation was unnerving. I almost wished I had stayed behind at the submarine with Absinthe. Cornelis was downright twitchy — probably still worried about doppelgängers. Copper was the only one who took everything in stride.
Several portraits hung in the hallway. It seemed that Cal Hicks enjoyed a much happier, devoted family life than had Calvin Hixon. The son was presumable born out of wedlock, since this place seemed to reflect our own world. But unlike Ignatius Belle, Nate Hicks agreed to become a true part of the family. And since Penny was visiting Nate and his wife for a week, I assumed that she did not share Copper’s dislike and mistrust of her half brother.
A purple primate version of Harper’s Bazaarmagazine lay on a beautifully crafted mahogany table. The deep color of the wood had dark purple highlights. On the magazine cover was a woman-ape wearing a fashionable ensemble. A painting hung above the table. It was a portrait of Cal Hicks’ son and daughter-in-law. I had to admit the young ape in the portrait bore a vague resemblance to Ignatius Belle. However the female looked nothing like me whatsoever.
“Look Felicity! She looks like you,” Copper enthused.
Looking away, I tried not to let the ape see how aghast I was at the girl’s comment. With narrowed eyes I watched Corenlis. His mouth twisted in any number of ways as he tried to stifle his laughter. I knew it was our host he didn’t want to offend. He certainly wouldn’t be concerned about my pricked ego.
To hide his mirth, the Dutchman tapped his fist to his breastbone, pretending to stifle a burp. Then he asked our host if we might stroll around the grounds to help the fine repast he’d provided settle. The amethyst ape was happy to oblige.
As we toured the property we came upon a church. “That doesn’t look like it’s been used in quite some time,” I commented about the chapel.
“Ah yes. That was indeed a tragedy,” Cal Hicks replied sadly, and Copper was quick to push for details on a topic we adults may have deemed too delicate.
Mount Olivet Cemetery Chapel, Nashville, TN
“It happened during the last confrontation with the one eyed one horned flying purple people eater,” the ape said then turned to Cornelis as if concerned. “Do you not remember it?”
“Err…” Cornelis hesitated, but a spark in his eyes told me he was about to dissemble. “I must confess,” he said looking so sad and sincere that I almost rolled my eyes. “An accident of alchemy brought my submarine back to these shores. Sadly I have no memory of the events that happened here,” he explained. “Oh now, there’s no need for concern, I’m sure the memories will return in due time. Such is the way of alchemy,” he assured our worried looking host.
“Well, perhaps a refresher will help it along then,” Cal Hicks said with a hopeful nod. “I mentioned that we had thought all of your species,” he said turning to me, but hesitating when he looked at Copper’s wide eyes. “Well, um, that the one eyed one horned flying purple people eater had, um gotten them,” Cal said and seeing that Copper didn’t look frightened, he continued. “However, there was one more confrontation with that huge purple fae creature. You, Cornelis Drebbel, cornered the magical beast, and with your alchemy intended to transfigure it to something harmless.”
“Let me guess,” I said with a wry grin. “The alchemy went awry.”
Cornelis Drebbel
Cornelis glared at me, but the ape remained perfectly serious, continuing his narrative. “The Lord of Alchemy insisted that everyone take refuge in the chapel while he confronted the monster alone. Meanwhile, I ran to retrieve his harmonic tuner. It’s a magical device decorated with a carving of a trio in the classic mystic people pose — hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no evil.”
The ape suddenly looked overwhelmed with regret. He moved his spectacles to wipe a tear. “In my haste, I tripped. The harmonic tuner flew from my grasp. It rang as it flew through the air. However, you, Cornelis Drebbel, caught it before it fell. So I thought all would be well, and that my mishap had done no harm,” Cal Hicks told us in an apologetic voice.
The ape dabbed his nose with a silk handkerchief and took a deep breath before continuing. “The purple people eater vanished, presumably vanquished. You, Lord of Alchemy popped off, as was your habit, to make sure the beast was gone for good. But you never returned,” he said, looking like a repentant child caught in mischief. His expression gladdened as he looked up and added, “Until today that is.”
“And the church?” I prompted.
Cal Hicks turned somber eyes to the chapel. He shook his head slowly. “When the loud harmonic noise of the misused tuner dissipated, I realized there were no sounds whatsoever coming from the church. To my horror, I found it empty. Everyone inside had vanished along with the purple people eater,” he said.
I gasped despite myself. The ape seemed to think I found his telling of the story that shocking, and he seemed gratified to have at least told it well. Although it was obvious that he blamed himself to a degree for what happened. So I tried not to let on that the story wasn’t the reason for my gasp.
“Cornelis!” I whispered to the alchemist. “That army of chimpanzees back at the Hixon estate. What if they weren’t trained,” I said but paused, looking for the right word. “What if instead, they were actually translocated?”
***
Felicity has figured out at least part of the mystery of the “trained” chimpanzees, but we still don’t know who was using them. Can the ape version of Calvin Hixon somehow help our trio reach Copper’s real daddy? Will seeing the portrait of primate doubles of herself and Ignatius Belle influence Felicity’s capricious feelings about him? I hope to see you at the platform for the train to the Victorian Era again next time.
Hot and humid… day after day, night after night – it’s just that time of year here. So when I saw a beautiful post from Suzanne at A Pug in the Kitchen for “Nicoise Salad,” it seemed like the perfect recipe to share with this episode.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.
Isn’t it just the berries when with no planning at all, things just come together? Everything about our 1920’s serial is unplanned “panster” fun — even the timing of when you all send ingredients. So I was tickled when I learned that the next set of ingredients coincided with something important for the reader who is featured this weekend.
Mary J McCoy-Dressel, who sent the ingredients for this episode, just happens to have just released a new cowboy romance novel — and you are among the first to know! Sheiks and Shebas in Mary’s books are “Gentlemen cowboys (with a touch of bad) and their feisty heroines,” as the author describes them. So get ready for the sequel to Howdy Ma’am, the long awaited Hey Cowboy.
Furthering the synchronicity, the fourth Saturday of every July is the National Day of the American Cowboy. I know this is unnecessary, but indulge me. With ghosts in the story, and the cowboy references… I just can’t resist.
Right up to the very last minute, I didn’t know what I was going to do with this set of ingredients. I’m not sure what had me scratching my head more, barbecue sauce or baby bok choy. Oddly enough, I wasn’t worried about aluminium foil. So I started writing this introduction rather than the story… Then, after I went to bed, I remembered the Jar of Spooky Things. Naturally, with Ghost Riders in the Sky still playing in my head, I took a random ghostly ingredient from the song, rather than from the jar.
Now, hang on tight. Here we go by the seats of our pants again! Bon appétit!
7. Baby Bok Choy, Barbecue Sauce, Aluminum Foil
With Ghost-rider
“So Andy, tell me all about Hollywood! All the crazy stuff with the haunted wine bottle from the old factory and the ghost chef… All that started up before we ever got to talk about your new home,” I said to my old friend, Andy the Astronaute-man.
Andy Avis was one of my group of friends back in a tiny town near Santa Rosa Sound, Florida. I nicknamed him the Astronaute-man because he wrote science fiction stories and even screenplays. I expected him to begin by telling me about his work at the movie studio, but apparently food was on his mind. He told me about his favorite restaurant, a Chinese place.
“They really put on the Ritz! It’s an amazing looking restaurant. And they make this baby bok choy dish, with garlic. I had never had it before, but it’s turned into one of my favorite foods,” he said enthusiastically.
I told him about Alastair and Arabella Wong and their restaurant, Wong’s Chinese. “Oh yeah, he said. “That’s the lady you said owns Wriggles, the little pug dog. Mrs. Peabody is just dog-sitting until she gets back from vacation, right?”
“Yes, that’s the one. Funny isn’t it, the way this kind of thing seems to happen?” I commented. “Alastair and Arabella leave here to visit California, while you come from California to here.”
Andy chuckled. “Yeah, it’s like the hand of Fate making sure things stay in balance. If one thing or person leaves a realm, then another must take its place,” he said, talking like he would in one of the science fiction stories he wrote.
The black Dodge Roadster puttered along toward the abandoned factory. Andy had put the tan colored ragtop down when we started out, but he looked up at the clouding sky in concern. “Do you think we should stop and put the top up?”
The old factory that Andy had bought on behalf of a studio executive was only a little further down the road. “We’re almost there. Why don’t we just take our chances?” I suggested, knowing Andy was probably more concerned about me getting rained on than himself or the automobile.
“So why in the world would Manny Mayer the Movie Maker want an abandoned factory in Savannah, Georgia?” I asked Andy about the executive.
Andy Avis gave an exaggerated shrug. “I sorta wondered that myself. I was bragging. Goading him a little you know. He can be kind of a blowhard. So I was telling him about how much better the barbecue sauce is here in the south, and how much better it is than anything he’s ever tasted. So maybe he wants to open a huge barbecue place,” Andy said jokingly, which earned him a look from me. “Okay, so maybe not. To be honest, I didn’t want to ask too many questions, since he — or the studio was paying for my trip. To me, it was as much for pleasure, for rest and relaxation, as for business,” he said and gave me a quick one-armed hug while he drove.
Something about his tone and a sad look in his eyes made me concerned. “Are you okay? Out there all the way across the country, by yourself?” I asked.
Andy grinned like his old self. “Hollywood is the cat’s pajamas!” he said, though his smile waivered a little. “But I admit it’s a big adjustment. Everything is so different, whether I’m at the studio or just walking down the street.”
The sun came back out, clearing away the clouds. Soon we were at the abandoned building. It predated the Civil War. The factory-warehouse was a sort of hideout for blockade runners back then. We knew there might be all kinds of interesting stuff still inside because it was supposed to be haunted, and that would have kept away many thieves and vandals.
However, there wasn’t much of anything within plain sight. There were plenty of crates
and even old trunks. Plus the windows didn’t let in much light. We had our work cut out for us, but we were armed with flashlights and dust-rags, and Andy had a crowbar for opening crates.
After a few minutes of stirring up dust, we spotted an old document lying on top of a tall crate. We moved sturdy looking smaller crates to stand on, so we could see the top of the tall wooden box. The paper was crumbling with age. We were afraid it would fall apart into useless bits if we picked it up. “If we just had something to put it in,” I muttered half to myself.
“It’s probably just a shipping manifest, but you never know. Heck, even that could be interesting. Oh!” Andy exclaimed. “Granny is always determined to send food back with me, so I bought some aluminum foil… but I forgot to give it to her. It’s out in the roadster. That would work. We can make a foil envelope around this paper. If we’re real careful, it should hold together,” Andy said and headed back to the Dodge.
As I watched my friend’s form disappear into the dank building, I gulped. Knowing I was alone in the abandoned factory gave me a creepy feeling, even though I knew Andy was only a shout away and would be back quickly. Then a long roll of thunder filled the building. It sounded close. I realized Andy would be a little longer, since he’d need to put the top up on the ragtop two-seater. I wondered if I should go help him.
“Just stay there, Pip!” I heard him call back to me, though he was out of sight. “Sounds like the rain’s coming back. There’s no point in you getting wet too. I can put the top up on the roadster,” he said, voice fading into the distance.
A low whistle caused me to turn with a start.
“Well now, ain’t you a pretty little filly,” said a man wearing a Stetson hat.
He looked like he’d walked out of a Tom Mix movie. Actually, he was tall, well-built, and a real looker.
“You startled me,” I gasped, stating the obvious.
He looked abashed and removed the Stetson with a sort of bow. “Howdy, ma’am. Pardon me. I seem to have forgotten my manners. It’s been awhile since…” he began but his words trailed away as thunder rumbled again.
The room shook and it felt like the thunder was right beside me. I felt the man’s hand around my waist, and he roughly pulled me against him. My breath caught in my throat as I gazed up at his bright eyes, which shone with an emotion that I couldn’t define or even describe. Suddenly a couple of huge red-eyed cows careened past. They had long shiny black horns that missed me by an inch. I realized that one of those horns would have gored me if the cowboy hadn’t pulled me aside.
“What… was that?” I said, pulling away from him.
Then I noticed a large lariat was in his hands. I was sure it hadn’t been there before.
“Dang it all…” he muttered and then sighed with frustration. “I wouldn’t have caught them anyway,” he spoke words that rang of defeat.
He shook his head, looking after the longhorn cows, which disappeared as suddenly as they appeared. Then he turned back to me. “Caleb Colman, ma’am,” the cowboy said and put out his hand to shake mine.
I might have giggled about the name Caleb Colman the Cowboy, but I didn’t. Because the moment I shook his hand was when I realized how cold his touch really was. I’d felt it all the way through my dress too, when he pulled me out of the way of the cattle. I knew what he was. By then, you’d think I’d have been used to meeting ghosts, but I introduced myself awkwardly. He finished what he had been about to say before the red-eyed cows interrupted us.
“It’s my curse. Me and all the riders. We chase that herd of red-eyed cattle, but we never get any closer to catching ‘em. And we’ll chase them ‘til the end of time,” The ghost-rider said seeing the expression on my face.
Caleb bowed his head, Stetson hat in hand. I didn’t know what to say. Nothing seemed sufficient compared to the thought of an unwilling and futile chase that went on forever. There was deep sadness and regret in the ghost-rider’s eyes.
“I know I did some bad things during my life. Some truly horrible things,” he said, shaking his head remorsefully. “I only wish I could be allowed to make up for it, to redeem myself somehow.”
That was when everything started to happen at once. I heard a distant rumble like thunder. I felt Caleb’s cold hand at my waist again. Andy called my name. He had just come back into view, at the far end of the poorly lighted factory floor. The room began to shake violently. A dozen red-eyed cattle with long sharply pointed black horns charged past. The Devil’s Herd was headed straight for Andy.
Caleb yelled at Andy to take cover, as he pulled me to the floor and out of the way. Even if Andy hadn’t been frozen in shock, he wouldn’t have had time to move. Immediately behind the cattle were two more ghost-riders, their horses snorting fire.
Their lariats spun circles of burning light as they tried to lasso the cattle. One cowboy’s lariat went around a set of shiny black horns, but the beast managed to shake it off before the ghost-rider could tighten the rope. The lasso went back into the air — and landed around Andy!
As if by magic, a fire-snorting horse appeared and Caleb leapt into the saddle in a single motion. He charged after the other ghost-riders, yelling at them to stop. However, the lasso tightened around Andy, lifting him into the air as the riders thundered past.
Then with the sound of a thunderclap and a flash of fire, they all disappeared.
***
Recipe: Stir-Fried Baby Bok Choy with Garlic
by Lillian Chou on Epicurious.com
Recipe and Photo Credit: Epicurious.com
Yield: 8 servings
Active time: 35 min
Total time: 35 min
Ingredients
1/3 cup reduced-sodium chicken broth
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch
3 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil
1/4 cup thinly sliced garlic (about 8 cloves)
2 pounds baby or Shanghai bok choy, halved lengthwise
2 teaspoons Asian sesame oil
Equipment: a well-seasoned 14-inch flat-bottomed wok with a lid
Preparation
Stir together broth, soy sauce, cornstarch, and 1/2 teaspoon salt until cornstarch has dissolved.
Heat wok over high heat until a drop of water evaporates instantly. Pour peanut oil down side of wok, then swirl oil, tilting wok to coat side. Add garlic and stir-fry until pale golden, 5 to 10 seconds. Add half of bok choy and stir-fry until leaves wilt, about 2 minutes, then add remaining bok choy and stir-fry until all leaves are bright green and limp, 2 to 3 minutes total. Stir broth mixture, then pour into wok and stir-fry 15 seconds. Cover with lid and cook, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are crisp-tender, 2 to 4 minutes. Stir in sesame oil, then transfer to a serving dish.
Chef’s note:
Baby bok choy can be washed, dried, and halved one day ahead. Chill wrapped in paper towels, in a sealed bag.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.
Many thanks to Debra Paulson for sending me this “Internet hug” as she so charmingly named it. And I’m thanking her for her patience, as she sent it back in October. I never forgot though. I’ve just been trying to “WriMo-mo-mo” for National Novel Writing month. (Follow the link and take a look at her great blog.)
What is a “leibster” you ask? Well, this is how Debra described to me:
The Leibster Award is given to up-and-coming bloggers. You must answer the questions your nominator gives you, and you must nominate other bloggers. So it’s a sort of “share the love” award – a great big internet hug, if you will — to share the love. Well you know that I’m a hugger so here goes!
Here are Debra’s questions for me:
1. Is proper grammar important 2 U? OMG absolutely, LOL. Seriously though yes, but I bend that for novels. I think you have to step outside “proper” (somewhat) to make an enjoyable novel.
2. Is it hard to be honest in your writing? No. Not being honest is harder.
3. Why did you start blogging? (Take note of question 2). This blog is the beginning of what I call my “Grand Experiment” in indie publishing. I’m trying to learn the ropes.
4. Do you wish you could stop blogging? Ummm… no.
5. Do you believe in ghosts? Yes. Bwahahahaha!
6. What do you do when you’re not blogging? I work to pay the bills.
7. What would your once-in-a-lifetime day be? Since I can only do it once, let me get back to you on that. :o)
8. What are you terrible at? And are you really? Taking a compliment. Even if I think I deserve it, I have a devil of a time doing that.
My Nominees
Okay… the rules said “up and coming bloggers.” I don’t know many bloggers at all… And the ones I know have all been blogging longer than I have. So I’m going to bend that rule and nominate a few of my favorites, and not worry about how long they’ve been blogging. And I hope they can take a moment for a few fun questions.
Now, here are my nominees, or hug recipients. Maybe I should call them hugees. Check them out! (Don’t worry “hugees” I know many of you are participating in NaNoWriMo, or are otherwise very busy. I’ll extend the same patience that was given me, and hope you accept this award. 🙂 )
Tea Menu
A purple primate version of 
just happens to have just released a new cowboy romance novel — and you are among the first to know! Sheiks and Shebas in Mary’s books are “Gentlemen cowboys (with a touch of bad) and their feisty heroines,” as the author describes them. So get ready for the sequel to 
but we were armed with flashlights and dust-rags, and Andy had a crowbar for opening crates.
