Microwave Raspberry Sauce of Wordle and Wine

Sometimes you just need fruit and sugar. Okay. What am I saying? All the time you just need fruit and sugar.

Raspberry My Sauce

Recipe by CarrieCourse: sauceCuisine: americanDifficulty: Easy

Are you addicted to wine, raspberries, sugar, or Wordle? Do you have a microwave? This recipe is for you, baby.

Stuff That Goes In It

  • 2 cups raspberries

  • ⅓ cup sugar

How to Make It

  • Prepare to stain your fingers red. Prepare to have to go to the door even in a pandemic so that you can sign the FED EX driver’s thing to prove you are over 21 so that you can get an entire box of wine off the internet. Watch the Fed Ex driver judge you.
  • Okay. Here’s the recipe. Sorry about that. It was a low point recently. Another low point? Constantly checking when the next Wordle game was up and seeing gray, yellow, and green squares in my dreams.
  • Swear off the Wordle addiction and get a big container (2 quarts) and put the raspberries and sugar into it. Wonder if ‘swear’ would be a good five-letter word for Wordle. NO! DO NOT THINK ABOUT IT!
  • Put plastic wrap over the container (too many letters) and put it in the microwave (way too many letters).
  • Cook for three minutes.
  • Uncover it. Stir it. Realize you should have offered the Fed Ex driver some wine. Feel guilty.
  • Cook another minute. Think about winning Wordle and wine.
  • If you are anti-seed (let’s face it, most of us are), put the raspberries through a sieve. Wonder if you should use ‘sieve’ in Wordle. Realize no. More than one E in that baby. Wonder if the Fed Ex driver plays Wordle.
  • Keep the strained sauce. Do not keep the seeds or go running after the Fed Ex driver with your bottle of wine yelling, “WORDLE! WORDLE!” That would be too weird.
  • Eat that sauce. Get it all over your face. Trust me and do not answer the door if someone comes, not without cleaning your teeth first. Raspberries make you look like you’ve turned zombie. Not a good look. Even in a pandemic.

Notes

  • This was adapted from the Fanny Farmer Cookbook by Marion Cunningham. It’s a big, awesome cookbook, one of my first and I love it with all my little Wordle heart. HEART! That has five letters!

Whip that Sexy Feta, Honey

Whip that Feta, Honey

Recipe by CarrieCourse: AppetizersCuisine: AmericanDifficulty: Easy
Servings

8

servings
Prep time

15

minutes
Cooking time

20

minutes
Calories, but who is counting, really?

113

kcal
Total time

35

minutes

Stuff That Goes In It

  • THE OLIVES OF AWESOME ROASTED HAPPINESS
  • 2 cups of different kinds of olives, pit those bad boys

  • ⅓ cup of the olive oil that not just a virgin, but an extra virgin, wonder what the hell that means.

  • 6 cloves garlic, smashed up (not on booze, this isn’t drunk garlic; it’s smooshed)

  • 1 shallot, quartered

  • 1 lemon, quartered

  • 2 sprigs fresh thyme and 2 sprigs fresh oregano, hanging out together the way thyme and oregano do

  • Chili flakes to make it spicy

  • Feta that is all Honey Whipped
  • 8 ounces of feta cheese

  • 3 ounces of room-temperature cream cheese

  • 3 tablespoons of honey

  • black pepper

How to Make It

  • This is the sexy part. Find your oven. Turn it on. Do whatever it takes to heat that baby up to 450° F. I
  • Feel accomplished. Now search through the tupperware for an OVEN SAFE baking dish.
  • Put your all those olive ingredients (including the olives and chili flakes to taste) together so they can party like it’s 1999 and Prince is coming over.
  • Bake for somewhere between 20 and 20 minutes in the oven. Do not use cannabis! YOU are not getting baked. The OLIVES are getting baked.
  • But on your best BDSM gear and whip the feta. How do you do this? Not with whips, actually! I know! I know! Bummer. Just put all the whipped feta ingredients into a food processor . Pretend you’re at a nightclub and pulse it. Pulse it again and again and again. Throw your hands in the air. And do it until that mix is all smooth and creamy.
  • Find a spoon. Use it to put the feta in a bowl. Now top it with the baked olive mixture. Feel sexy while you eat it because you are, damn it. No matter what that boy said at your sixth-grade dance at the Catholic Church in Bedford, New Hampshire, you are.

Notes

Naughty Fruit Salad To Inspire You

Naughty Fruit Salad

Recipe by CarrieCourse: FruitCuisine: AmericanDifficulty: easy
Servings

4

servings
Prep time

20

minutes
Chilling time

1

hour 

The fruit salad that might inspire you to finally write an erotic scene in your novel. But also somehow reminds you of your grandparents. Shudder. It’s good though!

Stuff That Goes In It

  • 21 oz can peach pie filling

  • 20 oz can pineapple chunks drained

  • 15 oz can mandarin oranges drained

  • 16 oz frozen or fresh strawberries halved or quartered

  • 3 kiwi sliced

  • 2 bananas sliced

  • Tiny bit of vanilla

  • Maybe an apple

  • Seedless grapes if you’re into it

  • Maybe ⅛ teaspoon of lemon juice if you’re using apples and not eating it right away (it helps keep the apples from oxidizing).

How to Make It

  • Realize that if you want to make any money in writing, you’re probably going to have to learn to write sexy scenes.

    Realize that you’re pretty bad at writing sexy scenes.

    The only way to deal with this is to make a naughty fruit salad.

    Gather up the ingredients! Let’s go.
  • Chop the fruit up until it’s bitable pieces. People bite and nibble and stuff in sex scenes, don’t they?
  • Mix up all the fruit and vanilla and peach pie filling and lemon juice. If the peaches look too chonky, cut them up so they are easy to nibble on. Try to wield the knife seductively. Realize the only thing you can wield seductively is . . . is . . . is . . . insert your own favorite swear word here . . . nothing
  • Chill it like a cold shower for at least an hour. You can write the cold shower scene! That’s not naughty — or is it?

Notes

Vegetarian Reuben Side Hustle

Vegetarian Reuben Side Hustle

Recipe by CarrieCourse: Uncategorized
Servings

6

servings
Prep time

10

minutes
Cooking time

15

minutes
Total time

25

minutes

Stuff That Goes In It

  • 1 pound smoked Cheddar cheese, shredded

  • 1 cup thousand island salad dressing, or to taste

  • 1 (16 ounce) jar sauerkraut, drained

  • 12 slices dark rye bread

  • 2 tablespoons butter or vegan substitute

  • 2 tomatoes, sliced

How to Make It

  • Think about your bank account. Realize you need a side hustle. Get depressed. Decide only food will help. Realize this is an unhealthy behavior pattern. Decide not to care.
  • Find a big bowl and put the sauerkraut and cheese in it. Stir it together and wonder if you can somehow make sauerkraut a side hustle.
  • Put dressing in there — just enough to coat stuff. You aren’t made of money. Thus, the need for a side hustle. Mix it up.
  • Wonder if other authors have side hustles.
  • Go get the bread and butter. Think about the phrase ‘earning your bread and butter.’ Decide it’s a stupid phrase as you butter the bread on ONLY ONE SIDE!
  • Maybe your side hustle could involve stupid phrases?
  • Go get the cheese/sauerkraut mix in the bowl and put it on the unbuttered side. Do it for only HALF the bread. Put a tomato on it (sliced). Put another piece of bread on top. IT IS A SANDWICH!
  • Maybe your side hustle could just be helping people spell sauerkraut. It’s not an easy word.
  • Find the oven. Find a skillet. Make it a large skillet. Find the thing on the oven that turns the temperature on the burner. Put it on medium high. Maybe you could help people find things? That seems like a possible option. People are always losing things–dogs, cats, phones, glasses, minds.
  • Cook/fry the sandwich on both sides so that it is happily toasted and the cheese is gooey/melted. Go start a website promoting your side hustle or something. You’ve got this!

Notes

Mushroom Ramen Noodles of Writerly Stereotypes

Hey! It’s Cooking With a Writer, real recipes, but um . . . a weird writer take on them. I always source my recipes, but I can’t verify if they are the originals.

Mushroom Ramen Noodles of Writerly Stereotypes

Recipe by CarrieCourse: DinnerCuisine: vegetarianDifficulty: easy
Servings

4

servings
Prep time

5

minutes
Cooking time

10

minutes
Calories

300

kcal

Stuff That Goes In It

  • 2 packets ramen or other instant noodles

  • 1.5 tbsp vegetable oil 


  • 14 oz mushrooms, sliced

  • 2 tsp sesame oil 

  • 5 green onion stems 

  • 1 1/4 cups  water, plus more if you need it

  • SAUCE
  • 1 tbsp dark soy sauce 

  • 1 tbsp Oyster sauce or Hoisin because we are chill like that.

  • 2 tsp Hoisin sauce or more Oyster sauce, it’s still chill

How to Make It

  • Think about writer stereotypes. Think about how you are not a stereotype, are you? As you mix the ingredients for the sauce, realize that you are not a loaner (stereotype #1). You hung out with someone for a 15-minute walk three months ago. A loner wouldn’t do that, would they?
  • There! Ha! Not that stereotype. Now grab the green onion and cut it into little lengths. Keep the white parts together. Keep the green parts together. Don’t mix them up, they are loaners! Or something . . .
  • Put the oil in a big skillet. Turn the heat on high. Add mushrooms. Cook those babies for 3 minutes and think about how you aren’t a bookworm, are you (stereotype #2)? You have legs! Worms don’t have legs, do they?
  • Add sesame oil. Add garlic and sesame oil. Cook and make the mushrooms and garlic a nice golden color.
  • Add that sauce. Stir it. Add white group of those green onions. Cook 1 minute. The mushrooms should be all carmelized and adorable.

    Not so adorable? Stereotype #3, which is WRITER IS A WEIRDO. You are not a weirdo. Yes, you’re obsessed with manatees. But you have social skills! You wash yourself and your clothes. PSHAW on these negative stereotypes
  • Okay. Move those sexy (not in a weird way) mushrooms over to the sides of the skillet so there is an empty space in the middle. Now call this space a well because that’s what cooks call it. Pour in the water and put those noodles in that well.

    Cook it for about 45 seconds.
    Flip it.
    Cook for another 30 seconds.
    Separate the noodles, break them up like the Beatles or you and your last agent.

    Worry that by knowing this about the Beatles (even without seeing the Netflix special) makes you writer stereotype #4 – THE KNOW IT ALL. You know you aren’t though, right? Wait, does knowing you aren’t a know it all actually make you a know it all? ARGH!!!!
  • Now put the green group of onions in there.
    Toss it all up.
    Is it saucy enough? If not, add water.

    Decide that you are not a stereotype. You are a writer, damn it, and writers come in all sorts of forms and are full of difference and that’s what makes us awesome.

Notes

Sangria of Thanksgiving Awesome for Writers Who Need Some Magic, Damn It

In the summer months, the Portuguese part of my family really loved their sangrias, which they usually made from Tempranillo from Rioja, but if things were desperate, they would use Bartles and James.

One of my aunts would shove all sorts of sliced fruit in there, something orange (sometimes booze, sometimes an orange, sometimes both) and put a ton of ice and some sort of soda water. I always thought it was magic. Sometimes I’d get to suck on some of the fruit, which was probably illegal now that I think of it.

This is a more Thanksgiving take on that same thing.

Sangria of Thanksgiving Awesome for Writers Who Need Some Magic

Recipe by CarrieCourse: Uncategorized
Servings

4

servings
Prep time

5

minutes
Cooking timeminutes
Calories

ha

kcal

Stuff That Goes In It

  • 1 cup apple cider

  • 1 750-ml bottle dry white wine

  • ¼ cup orange juice (about one navel orange)

  • ¼ cup brandy, if you are fancy — Calvados

  • Sparkling water or club soda to put on top

  • One apple, cut into ½-inch cubes

  • ¼ cup pomegranate seeds or another apple or pear

How to Make It

  • Look, you’re a writer, you deal in magic. You create worlds and story and happiness. Take a deep breath. It’s your time to have some magic.
  • Find a pitcher that can contain six quarts of fluid. Look up what a quart is. You’re a writer, you’re used to researching things like “how to kill a demonic pixie;” this should be easy.
  • Put fruit in that pitcher. Look at that. Fruit is sort of magical isn’t it, like a narrative arc that makes sense. Gorgeous.
  • Put wine in there because it’s the most important magical ingredient. Think about writing a book with alchemy. Tell yourself you are practicing it right now.
  • Put in the apple cider, juice, and brandy. Wonder if any of your characters drink apple cider. Decide not to worry about it. THIS IS ABOUT YOU AND YOUR NEEDS, WRITER! Not those demanding characters.
  • Put it in the fridge to make it cold. Wait impatiently.
  • Stir it. Top it off with that sparkling water. Drink it and let your mind take you to magical places that do not include dialogue punctuation, character motivation, or plot.

Notes

  • This beautiful, magical recipe is adapted from the fantastic site, Wine Mag, and it’s from Emily Saladino. Hit the link and you’ll get to the real thing. 🙂

SHEET PAN DINNER RECIPE FOR WRITERS WHO ARE FEELING OUT OF CONTROL

SHEET PAN DINNER RECIPE FOR WRITERS WHO ARE NOT DOING WELL

Recipe by Carrie
Servings

8

servings
Prep time

25

minutes
Cooking time

45

minutes
Calories

280

kcal

Stuff That Goes In It

  • 2 (15 ounce) cans chickpeas, rinsed and drained

  • ½ butternut squash – peeled, seeded, and cut into 1-inch pieces

  • 1 onion, diced

  • 1 sweet potato, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes

  • 2 large carrots, cut into 1 inch pieces

  • 3 medium russet potatoes, cut into 1-inch pieces

  • 3 tablespoons vegetable oil

  • 1 teaspoon salt

  • ½ teaspoon ground black pepper

  • 1 teaspoon onion powder

  • 1 teaspoon garlic powder

  • 1 teaspoon ground fennel seeds

  • 1 teaspoon dried rubbed sage

  • 2 green onions, chopped (Optional)

How to Make It

  • It’s happened.

    You have realized it, little author.

    Writing is a f-ed up business and it’s not all in your control. You’ve gotten rejected again because the market allegedly isn’t into time-traveling hamsters for YA novels. Pshaw!

    So go, preheat the oven 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).


    Find a large sheet pan and grease it. Pretend it’s your readership. You want them to be prepared.

  • You gave up on traditional publishing and have done everything you could to sell books. Bought Publisher’s Rocket, joined Facebook groups, read a million craft books. And you’ve sold two. To your mom.

    It’s okay. You’re a writer not a marketer.

    Put the chickpeas, potatoes (both kinds), squash, carrots and onions on the sheet pan.

    These are your books. They are all there. They are beautiful. Now drizzle some oil on them and toss them around so the oil is everywhere.

    Wish them luck.
  • Combine the spices (salt counts) in a bowl or something. God knows.

    Sprinkle onto the veggies.

    Toss it all again
    , damn it. Cry. Think about pen names.
  • Think about Chuck Wendig’s latest post about dealing with the writing business where he says:

    “I cannot control geopolitics and global pandemics. I cannot control whether the editor who’s had my novel on their desk for nine months will happen to pick it up on a day they ate some bad charcuterie and can’t focus because they need to run to the loo every ten minutes. I can’t control markets, reviewers, who else publishes the day my book comes out, or even (very frequently on the trad side of publishing) my covers and titles.

    “But I can control other things. I control the effort I put into my craft. I’ve now written twenty-two novels, and by the time you read this, it might be twenty-three. LOOK TO THE SUN was my tenth.

    “I can control whether I keep going or take a break, whether I give up altogether or come running back to the game. I am responsible for whatever ends up on my pages.”
  • Put the pan in the oven for 25 minutes.

    Stir it.

    Cook it 20 minutes more. Your novels should be done. The effort was worth it. The chickpeas are a little crisp like a good plot. The veggies are lightly browned like some nice emotional development. Call it good.

    Write again tomorrow.

    Add salt or pepper and green onion if you feel like it. Call it good.

Notes

  • This recipe is much more readable and inspired by the lovely recipe here by Kim on Allrecipes.

The Mansplainy Writer’s Guide to Broccoli, Cheddar and Brown Rice Cakes

The Mansplainy Writers Guide to Broccoli, Cheddar and Brown Rice Cakes

Recipe by CarrieCourse: DinnerCuisine: vegetarianDifficulty: Easy
Servings

4

servings
Prep time

10

minutes
Cooking time

30

minutes
Calories

280

kcal

Serving size is two cakes.

Stuff That Goes In It

  • Cooking spray – so he can’t bro-splain how you didn’t grease the pan and everything stuck.
     

  • 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
     

  • 3/4 cup chopped yellow onion
     

  • 4 garlic cloves, chopped
     

  • 3/4 cup unsalted vegetable stock (such as Swanson)
     

  • 12 ounces fresh broccoli florets, cut into 1/2-in. pieces
     

  • 1 (8.8-oz.) pkg. precooked brown rice

  •  1/4 cup whole-wheat panko

  •  1 tablespoon grainy mustard
     

  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
     

  • 3/8 teaspoon kosher salt
     

  • 3 ounces pre-shredded reduced-fat sharp cheddar cheese, divided (about 3/4 cup)
     

  • 2 large eggs, lightly beaten
     

  • Sliced green onions (optional)

How to Make It

  • Why oh why, did you have to read that blog by Mr. Mansplain I’m The Best Writer in the Universe guy? Did you want to ruin a perfectly good day? Yes. Yes, apparently you did.

    Now turn the oven on 450-Fahrenheit.

    Why did he think “kill your darlings” originated with him? Or “butt in chair?”

    Seriously? The ego.
  • Spray the cooking sheet with cooking spray.

    Take a deep, calming breath.
  • Do not go back to the website to see his smug face or read that just the term “mansplaining” mean we’re infantilizing women.

    Instead, melt butter in a big ole skillet over medium-high.

    Add garlic and onion.

    Sauté for 4 minutes.
  • Add stock and broccoli. Bring to a boil; cook 3 minutes.

    Do not think about the author who name drops other authors’ names every two minutes. Don’t tell them that you know all the authors they are talking about. Swoon about the workshop she took with Rita Williams Garcia. Nod nicely when she talks about her tweet volley with Salman Rushdie.

  • Find rice.

    Heat rice following the directions on the packages.

    Don’t think about the author in your workshop who won’t stop complaining about how harrowing writing is. “It’s ripping open a vein and bleeding on the page.”

    Don’t think about all her sob-story tweets and how many fans she gets by complaining.

    Don’t think about how she makes writing into a ‘mystical, mystical gift that drives me to penultamate heights and miserable lows, but I am compelled to fight through it and share my genius gift to the world.”

    Do not give her the finger via a gif.

    Instead . . .


  • Put the broccoli mix, panko, mustard, rice, pepper, salt, and 1/2 cup of the cheese into a big ole bowl.

    Find the eggs. Put them in too and stir.

    Make eight different (2 1/2-inch) patties.

    Put the patties on the pan and spray them with cooking spray.

    Bake at 450°F for 15 minutes.

    Add the cheese on top.

    Bake for 4 more minutes or stop when the cheese gets all melty.

    Put green onions on it if you want.

    Eat and worry that you’re a mansplaining, harrowing (woe is me) or name dropping author. Decide you aren’t and call it good. Refrain from going on the internet and looking at those authors’ accounts and getting annoyed.

Notes

BUTT IN CHAIR Mushroom Burgers

Mushroom Burgers of BUTT IN CHAIR

Recipe by CarrieCourse: DinnerCuisine: vegetarianDifficulty: Medium
Servings

4

servings
Prep time

5

minutes
Cooking time

25

minutes
Total time

30

minutes

Stuff That Goes In It

  • 2 cups finely chopped fresh mushrooms

  • 2 large eggs, lightly beaten

  • 1/2 cup dry bread crumbs

  • 1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese

  • 1/2 cup finely chopped onion

  • 1/4 cup all-purpose flour

  • 1/2 teaspoon salt

  • 1/4 teaspoon dried thyme

  • 1/4 teaspoon pepper

  • 1 tablespoon canola oil

  • 4 hamburger buns, split


  • Optional: Sliced tomatoes and mayonnaise and lettuce and raw onion and cool condiments like crispy chili

How to Make It

  • Stand up. Shake your fist at all those writing mentors who say, “To write you have to put your butt in the chair.”

    Ha! Like it’s that easy?

    Writing isn’t just about sitting!

    It’s also about nourishment, nourishing the muse, and also your stomach, damn it.

    Let’s make burgers! Where we don’t kill any animals.
  • Find a really large bowl. You can’t do that in front of your computer, can you? Well, you can, but you can’t put the first 9 ingredients into that bowl.
  • Combine all those ingredients. Think about how nice it is to be out of a chair.
  • The whole “butt in chair” thing comes from Mary Heaton Vorse who told author Sinclair Lewis, “The art of writing is the art of applying the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair.”
  • Feel a little angry at her even though she is dead and was probably cool and stuff. But you can stand and write, too. Or flop down. It isn’t all about the chair, Mary!
  • Take some calming breaths and shape the stuff in the bowl into four 3/4-in.-thick patties.

    Google Mary. Realize she was a novelist and social activist. Feel guilty about thinking ill of her.

    She also wrote creepy things.
  • Find a big and heavy skillet.

    Use those writer wrist muscles to lift the skillet onto the burner.

    Put oil in.

    Turn the burner onto medium.

    Wonder if you can earn money blogging on Medium.

    Decide no.

    Bet Mary made a lot of money.

    Add burgers; cook about 3-4 minutes on each side; they should be a nice light brown color.
  • Put the burgers on buns and add the stuff you want to add.

    Find Mary’s “Sinister Romance” story online. Read it.

    Eat standing up and toast Mary. 🙂

Notes

  • This recipe is adapted from Taste of Home

Adriatic Ravioli of Clichés

Sometimes, you may get feedback that you don’t agree with and maybe that feedback is that your story is full of clichés . Those poops. This is the comforting recipe for you in that time of need. Avoid those naysayers like the plague! 🙂

Adriatic Ravioli of Clichés

Recipe by Carrie
Servings

4

servings
Prep time

30

minutes
Cooking time

40

minutes
Calories

300

kcal

Stuff That Goes In It

  • 1 lb asparagus — fresh

  • 1 lb cheese ravioli — small, frozen

  • 5 TB butter or margarine

  • 1 lg red bell pepper — cut into skinny, 2-inch-long strips

  • ½ lb mushrooms — thinly sliced

  • 4 lg garlic cloves — peeled and minced

  • 3 TB unbleached white flour

  • 2½ c milk

  • ¼ ts salt

  • 1 ts paprika — plus more if you like to bling out your food

  • 1 TB Dijon mustard

  • ¼ c fresh basil — chopped

  • ½ c Romano cheese — (2 ounces), finely grated

  • Pepper

  • Finely grated Parmesan for serving (more bling)

How to Make It

  • Find a large pot. Think about how that pot is as old as the hills.
  • Put water in the pot.
  • Put that pot on a burner and make that water boil, but don’t watch it! A watched pot never boils. Actually, DO watch it because you don’t want it to boil over.
  • Meanwhile, go find your asparagus and snap off and trash the tough ends. Imagine that you are snapping and discarding the beta reader who said you had too many cliches in your story. That jerk.
  • Cut the asparagus into 1-inch pieces.
  • Steam your asparagus for about 6 to 8 minutes, until it is barely tender and cute as a button.
  • Set it somewhere. Think about why your beta reader and agent hate cliches. You’d thought they were the salt of the earth. Were you wrong?
  • Cook the ravioli. Stir it once in awhile. Begin cooking the ravioli, stirring occasionally. Look at it. It’s in hot water.
  • Find a skillet. Put it on medium heat and melt 1 TB of butter in it. It’s a baptism of fire for that pour butter.
  • Saute the mushrooms, pepper and garlic about three minutes.
  • Take those tender veggies away from the harsh heat.
  • Get the rest of the butter and a big saucepan. Put them on medium heat.
  • Find the flour and whisk it into the butter and do that for about two minutes before slowly pouring in the milk. Do not spill the milk that way you don’t have to cry over it.
  • Keep whisking. It is what it is.
  • Whisk for forever, which is basically 3 to 5 minutes when whisking. Finish in the nick of time, right before your wrist falls off.
  • Add the salt, paprika, mustard, basil, Romano cheese, and pepper and let the good times roll!
  • Stir until the cheese melts. Only time will tell how long that will take.
  • Put the heat on super low and stir in the vegetables. Keep your chin up and ignore those naysayers.
  • Once the ravioli is floating, drain it, put it in a bowl.
  • Put a ring on it. I mean, put the sauce on it.
  • Toss.
  • And last but not least, bling it out with paprika and parmesan.

Notes

  • This awesome recipe is from Ginny Callan’s, Beyond The Moon Cookbook. The vegetarian bible of my youth.
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