You can see why some years haven't had the comforting glow of holiday cheer promised by the glossy magazines.

Enlightenment struck when we hosted the monthly poker game at the beginning of December: plan the party as normal, and add one easy and fast holiday item. For poker night this meant a big batch of chili (30 minutes prep then it sits on the stove) with rice and cornbread, spice cake (baked and frozen weeks before) with cream cheese frosting, and whatever the gang brings. They've played poker for so long everyone brings the same thing: Good's potato chips from Lancaster, baba ganoush and hummus from a shop in West Philly.

I made alcohol-free cooked eggnog and let everyone add their favorite spirit (bourbon, rum, or brandy). It takes about 20 minutes for a single batch, and is much richer and tastier than store-bought. Friends who'd never had home-made immediately swore off store-bought. (The twelve-year-old wouldn't try it and has had store-bought for breakfast every morning the last two weeks.)

Remember that Martha has staff and a fortune and can do (or have done) 50 holiday-themed niceties for any party. For the rest of us with limited time and budgets, here are some things under $20 that take under 20 minutes to turn a get-together into a holiday party:

A champagne toast: Even here in state-controlled Pennsylvania you can find nice bubblies under $20. I like Freixenet. Pour everyone a glass as they arrive or serve with dinner or dessert.

Mulled wine and cider: Either red or white wine. Under no circumstances should you use nice wine for mulled wine; the spices will overwhelm it. Cider is a nice non-alcoholic option that the drinkers can add some dark rum or sherry. Any of these options takes five to ten minutes to set up, and then sits covered until ready to serve. As a bonus, your home will smell delicious.

Egg nog: Homemade nog pushes the 20-minute limit, unless you feel confident with nog from raw eggs, or you can buy from the grocery store, add bourbon or rum, and top with whipped cream and grated nutmeg.

Napkins: Check out the party and big box stores for holiday-themed napkins or even solid red and green, or gold and silver. The great thing is if you buy one or two giant packs, you'll have napkins for holidays to come.

Candles: Something about mid-Winter holidays calls for candlelight, thick pillars in colors or metallics, tea-lights in votive holders, menorahs, and Advent wreathes. Make a centerpiece on the table or scatter everywhere. Just don't leave them unattended.

Cookie plate or holiday breads: If the cookies or breads are already baked, bring them out! This does not mean spend hours baking, but if you've got it, share it!

Hot cocoa: Homemade cocoa is pretty easy and can be fixed up in so many ways. A hot cocoa "bar" is easy to assemble with marshmallows, short candy canes, whipped cream, and some liqueurs (or not) for the drinkers. Make a quart or more and hold it warm in a coffee carafe.

Signature dessert: If you have a signature dessert, make it when you have time and freeze, then defrost when you need it. The big family party always has chocolate roll and hazelnut torte, always baked ahead and frozen, and sometimes still a bit icy when served.

The important thing is that you need do only one thing to make a gathering feel festive, and that thing doesn't need to take hours from your day or most of your budget.

I am a lifelong Pennsylvania resident and a voter in Wyncote, 19095. My mother's parents came to this country in the 1920s from the Stuttgart region of Germany, and became naturalized citizens by the 1930s. They both left large families of sisters, brothers and cousins behind in Germany, families we still see regularly. I have often wondered how my great aunts and uncles could live through and fight and die for the Third Reich as if rounding up their fellow citizens were normal, just as I have wondered how my parents' generation could watch the Civil Rights Movement on television and not feel compelled to some action.

Clearly, when the challenge came, I told myself, I would be different.

And so I say: NOT IN MY NAME.

I will not pretend it is normal or acceptable for the president to accept white supremacist supporters and appoint white supremacists like Stephen Bannon to the government. I will not give them the comfortable name of "alt-right"; they are neo-Nazis, short and simple.

It is not acceptable to register Muslims like we did the Japanese during World War II. It is not acceptable to apply a religious test to anyone seeking a life here. The First Amendment protects expression of all religions, no matter our own personal prejudices.

In 20 or 30 years when history writes the Trump presidency as one of the darkest periods of American history, I want to know I was on the right side of history, doing everything I could to protect my fellow people -- citizen or not, here or abroad. I hope I can say my elected representatives will be standing there with me.

Thank you,
Susan J. Talbutt

Attending the Long Island Doctor Who convention in mid-November has been our family vacation since it's first convening in 2013. We've watched it expand from not quite two days of discussions and interviews in three tracks to nearly three days in five tracks. When organizers asked for volunteers for a long list of fan panels, I jumped at the chance to discuss "Cooking as an Expression of Fandom" and offered to bake and assemble a gingerbread version of K-9, the iconic robot dog from the original series with occasional appearances in the new.

Currently, you can see the photos of baking, assembling, reassmbling, and final assembly on my Mobypic account.

Menu

The menu has everything I look for in a brunch: something baked, fruit, a vegetable — preferably asparagus, a protein, caffeinated drinks, and bubbly. It feels a bit fancy, but is not stressful to prepare.

Mimosas are the preferred brunch drink here because I prefer both OJ and bubbly to tomato juice and vodka; finishing the bubble while washing dishes my time-honored wind-down after everyone has left.. The asparagus tart recipe shows up on every spring brunch menu I make. It's easy to assemble, looks elegant, it gets a vegetable onto the menu, and can be serve warm or room temperature, as finger food or eaten with a knife and fork. The scones are the same ones I make for weekend breakfasts. For Philly, grits are a bit "exotic," like scrapple might be elsewhere in the country.

Day or night before

Always prep as much as you can the day or night before.

For the grits: pre-measure the cup of grits and three cups of water.

Roast the peppers: Set the oven to broil. Cut each pepper into thirds from top to bottom so that the sides are fairly flat. Remove stem and seed. Tear off a piece of tinfoil wider than the pepper pieces laid out side to side with enough on either side to fold up. Lay the foil on a baking sheet and the peppers in the foil and slide under the broiler. I usually need to get the peppers right under the broiler until they are touching or nearly so. Broil for five minutes.

Prep the remaining peppers so that you can quickly rotate them into and out of the oven.

After broiling for five minutes, the entire skin should be blackened. Fold the foil over the peppers and create an air tight seal so that the peppers can steam for another ten minutes.

Open the foil, peel off the blackened skin. Store in an airtight container.

Scones: Honestly, I'd hoped to bake them the night before, but ... do you really want to hear about my health problems? No? I don't either.

Mix the dry ingredients. Mix the wet ingredients in a small bowl that you can seal. Chop the ginger, keep separate. This is a good stopping point, especially if your butter is frozen, or you can cut in the butter, mix everthing in, roll out and cut the scones, place onto a baking sheet and pop into the fridge until the next day.

Asparagus tart: It's served at room temperature and can be baked ahead and covered, but it really can't be pre-assembled like the scones. You can grate the cheese and cut the woody stems off the asparagus. In the linked recipe Martha is peeling her asparagus, and it's very nice that she (or her staff) has the time for that. No peeling in this house.

Eggs: Make sure the salmon is defrosted. Cut salmon into bite-sized pieces. Snip the chives that grow organically in your front garden because nothing bothers the dang things.

Other: The usual, set the table, get out the serving dishes, put out some candles. Fill the coffee maker and the tea kettle. Put the bubbly in the fridge.

The day of

Always make a schedule, broken down into 10 or 15-minute intervals. What needs to happen next? Look! There it is! Include any cleaning you might need to do. For big events like Thanksgiving, we will have a schedule for every teen or adult in the house. Total the cooking times (the tart has two!), (over)estimate the remaining prep times, and then work back from the guests' arrival time.

My schedule for everyone arriving at 1:

Recipes

Roasted pepper grits

2 red or yellow peppers, roasted
2 Tbs oil or butter
1 clove garlic
1 c grits
3 c water
3/4 tsp salt
ground pepper

Roast peppers (see above). Pulse in food processor until mostly pureed, but some pepper pieces remain.

In a 2-quart saucepot, heat oil over medium high heat. Saute garlic until golden and fragrant, no more than a minute.

Pour in water, salt and grits. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a simmer and cook 28 minutes.

Remove from heat, stir in roasted pepper puree. Adjust seasoning.

If you want creamy grits, add butter.

Jorj's scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, cream cheese and chives

1 dozen eggs
6 ounces smoked salmon
4 ounce cream cheese
snipped chives
salt and pepper to taste

Cut salmon into bite-sized pieces. Cut cream cheese into 16 cubes.

For this many eggs, a 12" frying pan is best. Bring the pan to heat over medium high heat. If the pan is still cold at the edges, this won't work. Add two tablespoons butter or oil; swirl to coat the bottom of the pan. Pour in eggs, stir. Add cream cheese cubes, stir. Add salmon pieces, stir. Add chives and pepper to taste, stir. Continue stirring until eggs are still a bit runny (not much!) and transer into a serving bowl. Overall this should take about five minutes. Taste for seasoning and adjust. Sprinkle with a bit more chive on top. Eggs will continue to firm up.

Basic meringue

Preheat your oven to 275 to 325 degrees.

Meringue is a ratio of sugar and egg whites. For 1 egg white, 1/4 to 1/3 c of sugar (50 to 67 g). I like to add 1/8 tsp of cream of tarter to make the proteins a bit more springy. You can also add a pinch of salt, or 1/4 tsp of vanilla.

Separate the eggs. Gently crack the equator or midriff of the egg with a butter knife or against the rim of a teacup. Pull the shell into two hemispherical halves, and allow the white to drip into the cup, while keeping the yolk in one half. Pass the yolk to the other half. Pass back to the first half if there is still a lot of white clinging to the yolk. Stop passing if the yolk looks like it's about the break! Drop the yolk into a small, freezable plastic container. Pour the white from the cup into the large mixing bowl you'll be beating the whites in. If the yolk does break and drip into the white, drop the remaining yolk into the cup with already contaminated white, and pour into an empty, small, freezable container; use the yolk for pancakes or scones the next morning. When you are done, label the small containers and freeze immediately.

Start the mixer on low speed. Add the cream of tartar if using. As the whites start to foam, increase the mixer speed to medium for a minute or two, then to medium high or high. The more whites you are whipping, the lower the top mixer speed so as not to strain the motor. When the whites are firm, add a tablespoon or two of sugar while continuing to beat the whites, and then wait. Put the yolks into the freezer, wipe down the counters, load the dishwasher, something to kill about 30 seconds. Or more. The point is not to rush. Add a bit more sugar. Distract yourself again; meringues are great for getting the kitchen cleaned while working. Continue adding sugar and whipping with a noticeable break before adding more sugar. When all the sugar is added, the whites should be glossy but not dry.

Line baking sheets with parchment paper, or Silpat or similar liners. You can drop the batter from a spoon to form a kiss shape, or use a pastry bag and star tip to pipe fancy shapes.

Bake until the meringe has dried out. For small cookies at 275 degrees, this can be 25 to 30 minutes; at 325 degrees it will take 15 to 20 minutes. Larger shapes will take longer to bake. I like my meringues crisp and dry, not chewy.

Macaroon

Yes, yes, the hot cookie now is the one-oh French macaron, made with almond flour, and everyone disses "grandmom's" coconut macaroons as being, what, stodgy? Well, let me tell you, macaroons were cool once and they'll be cool again, once the they get designated as "retro."

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Use 8 ounces of shredded coconut, preferably unsweetened, and 1 cup of sugar for 3 eggs. Break up any clumps in the coconut and fold in. Drop onto a cookie sheet into mounds about 1 inch in diameter, at least 1/2 inch apart. Bake 15 to 20 minutes, until just turning light golden brown on top. I like my macaroons crisp rather than chewy. Full recipe.

Forgotten cookies

My childhood favorite! As my best friend Donna said, how could you forget about these? The name comes from the baking directions: pop into the oven, turn it off, and forget about the cookies until morning. Unfortunately, if the oven cools too quickly, the cookies come out gummy. But delicious!

Two egg whites, 2/3 c sugar, once the whites are glossy fold in 6 ounces (half a bag) of chocolate chips. Just double the recipe so that you can use the whole bag. Drop from a spoon to make a kiss shape. Pop into a preheated 375 degree oven, turn off after five minutes, go to bed. Full recipe.

Wespennester

Wasps' nests. Who in their right mind names a cookie for a very nasty household pest? I put a pitchfork into a (very small) wasps' nest and the wasps were not pleased.

For 3 whites and 1 1/4 cup of sugar, fold in 4 1/2 ounces of ground unsweetened (or bittersweet) chocolate and 9 ounces of almonds coarsely chopped or slivered. Drop into mounds about 1 to 1 1/2 inches across; they will be misshapen blobs that look like paper wasps nests. Bake at 275 degrees for 25 minutes. Full recipe.

Busserl

Bavarian kisses! We've had a lot of fun adding cinnamon (1 tsp), cayenne (1/4 tsp), cloves (1/4 tsp) and other spices along with the cocoa.

For 2 whites and 1/2 cup of sugar, fold in 2 ounces ground unsweetened (or bittersweet) chocolate, 1 tablespoon cocoa (Dutched or natural) and any of the spices listed above (or not). Bake 25 to 30 minutes in a 275 degree oven. Full recipe.

1. Kir Royale: This classic was my first champagne cocktail, and remains a favorite. Creme de cassis, bubbles.
2. Kathleen: Limoncello and bubbles. Very refreshing.
3. Elderflower: A bit of Elderflower syrup topped by bubbles. Have you noticed a theme here?
4. Aperol Sprizz: Aperol and then bubbles on top. If you prefer a drier champagne, this will balance any sweetness.
5. Champagne cocktail: Drop a cube of sugar at the bottom a flute, drop with Angostura bitters, top with bubbles, stir to dissolve sugar.
6. Poinsettia: Could also be made into a punch! Shake 1/2 oz of Cointreau with 1 1/2 ounces cranberry juice cocktail; pour into flute and top with bubbly
7. Black Velvet: Stout beer and bubbles.
8. Jade: From my friend Jack Persico. Shake 1/4 oz blue curacao, 1/4 oz Midori, 1/4 oz lime juice, dash of Angostura bitters over ice. Pour into flute, then top with bubbles.
9. Chicago cocktail: Brandy, triple sec, bitters, bubbles.
10. French 75: This is our current house favorite and what I'll serve this New Year's Eve. It's is slightly more complex: gin, lemon, sugar syrup, shake with ice, then bubbles on top.

I have a degree in math.

This is unrealated to my ability to multiply metric conversions in my head; that comes from having to calculate sales tax on my book purchases as a pre-teen.

My soft serve cone has jimmies on it; worder comes from a fawcet; Kandy Kakes and Krimpets are delicious; 55 is only a suggestion for the Sure-kill aka the Expressway. In short, I'm a Philadelphian.

I hate to cook.

I'm not thrilled with Thanksgiving, either.

Christmas has been my favorite holiday since childhood; I wrote my Confirmation Class term paper on it.

Valentine's Day is least favorite. Those expectations will mess you up for life.

I am a massive nerd. I've been a Dr. Who fan since my mother turned it on when I was nine, and now I go to conventions and cosplay (that's me in L.A. dressed as Sarah Jane Smith). I game. On line.

When I lived in Germany, I learned to drive a manual transmission, and much prefer it over an automatic.

Since 2008, I've had my motorcycle license. I ride a 125 cc scooter.

I also bike.

Other drivers make me very, very nervous.

Favorite way to kick it up? Crystal Hot Sauce.

Favorite way to spice it up? cardamom.

Favorite nut: my wacky family.

Favorite nut, non-family, actually edible: hazelnuts, in cookies and cakes.

Least favorite nut: I try not to discuss fringe politics.

Least favorite nut, edible: walnuts. For years I thought I hated nuts. No, I just hate this bitter, nasty thing.

Chocolate, vanilla or strawberry? Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate.

Tone deaf. This physically pains my husband, who had perfect pitch before he listened to all that metal in high school.

I do 99 percent the work on the website.

I rarely drink soda, but when I do, it's San Pellegrino Chinotto, which tastes like sweeter, non-alcoholic Campari.

There! That's dinner sorted.

Drop kid off at karate school for three hours of testing. Dead head some flowers. Housework. Get kid ("I put Mr. Luis in a headlock!"). More housework. Drink a beer with husband on the patio in the cooling September afternoon. While husband returns to the photography mines, er, darkroom, in the basement laundry area, consider cooking those Roladen for dinner. Read Twitter.

Get Rouladen out of fridge. Stare at them. Remember you bought them because your grandmother never taught you how, and you have no idea how to cook them, let alone assemble them. Stare some more.

Get out the ceramic-coated, cast iron small Dutch oven usually used to bake bread. Add a tablespoon or two of oil, and heat over high heat. Quickly brown the rouladen on each side. Wonder how to make a sauce. Sauce is not your thing. Cooking is not your thing. Cooking without a recipe is really not your thing.

Remember the crappy Riesling in fridge that you can't bear to finish drinking because it is that crappy, and, oh God, what will you do with the second double bottle but never mind, let's try a splash, about a quarter to a half cup of wine into the pot. Reduce heat to medium and braise for half an hour or more until the Rouladen are cooked through. Traditionally, Rinderrouladen include uncooked bacon, so be sure they get to 140 or 150 degrees, unless you want soggy bacon.

Remove Rouladen to a plate. Consider a sauce. Reconsider your dinner choices, if not your life choices. Stare at the pot of wine and juices.

Add about 1 teaspoon of mustard and 2 Tablespoons of sour cream to the pot. Whisk in. Shake in some flour or other thickener. Turn heat to high, and whisk until sauce combines.

Do not worry about salt, Rieker's has done an excellent job of pre salting. Serve with Knödel, Spätzle, noodles or potatoes. And the crappy Riesling

First, when she tells you the morning after she arrives that she wants to bake and eat Krautkuchen (and Zwetschgenkuchen, chili, and other house specialties), you remember that your aunt (who makes the best Krautkuchen you have ever eaten, and whose recipe you will be using) uses Schmalz from Speck to fry her Kraut. Although your daughter is practically vegetarian, she does still eat meat. When you make breakfast (buckwheat pancakes with bananas or blueberries, with bacon on the side), cook the bacon the only way your daughter likes bacon: in the oven like your other aunt (200C, on a rack over a rimmed baking sheet, 15 to 20 minutes) so that you can save the half cup of fat that will render from a pound of bacon.

Next, when you have returned from the new chocolate exhibit at the Academy of Natural Sciences, suggest drinking hot cocoa while the dough for the crust rises.

Now you need to make the dough.

Consider using your translation of the Salzteig recipe, throw out that idea, and work from the original German recipe. A double or single batch? Double, because it freezes well, and then it's ready for the next time you make Krautkuchen.

Realize that while the amount of flour is doubled four a double batch, the other measurements aren't, and that you are not quite sure if they should be. Decide to use the larger measure of all ingredients and fiddle until the dough feels right. The dough's never really seemed right before, so what's to be lost?

Measure 500 grams flour, 375 mL milk, 2 1/4 tsp. of dry yeast (one package), and 1 tsp. of sugar. The yeast measurement is a complete guess, because in Germany everyone uses fresh yeast, and your aunt used 40g of it. Make a well in the flour. Heat the milk to 40C (1 minute in the microwave on high), pour in the milk, add the yeast and sugar, and stir until a the yeast, sugar, and a bit of the flour have made a very thin batter. Leave this Vorteig to rise for 30 minutes in a warm place.

Make and drink hot cocoa.

Re-read recipe to discover you shouldn't have used all the milk in the sponge. Check sponge, conclude the yeast is happy. If the yeast is happy, you are happy.

Add 6 Tbs of canola oil (the recipe calls for three to four, but, hey, that could be for the half recipe) and 1 tsp of salt (your aunt wrote an Esslöffel, a tablespoon, but that can't be right). Turn on the mixer, and combine everything using the kneading hook of the mixer into a, well, honestly, a rather gloppy dough. Throw in another 50g or so of flour to make it less gloppy and actually come together. Cover, and sit on the oven, which you begin heating to 200C. Set a timer for 30 minutes.

Dice one white or yellow onion, and start frying it over medium heat in about 3 Tbs of the bacon fat you saved from breakfast last week. Shred finely half a small head of white cabbage. Eye it critically, shred another quarter of the cabbage. This should give you enough shredded cabbage to nearly fill a 3L bowl. When the onion is translucent and starts smelling like fried onions, add another tablespoon or two of bacon fat, then the cabbage. Stir to make sure the cabbage is coated in fat.

Pour a glass of wine.

Ask if anyone else wants a glass of wine. Your husband with the herniated disk will say he's taking a Vicodin that night. Your daughter who doesn't drink will decline, as will her love who is also not a big drinker. Consider drinking with the nine-year-old. Discard this idea. Drink the wine.

Keep stirring the cabbage while it cooks, and look for the other filling ingredients. Get out the old and new sour cream containers, and think it was unnecessary to buy another container. Open the old container, realize it was a good idea to get the new container, and measure out 200 mL of sour cream from the new container into a large bowl. Add 100 mL of heavy cream. Well, not heavy cream, because all the cream went into the biscuits that were breakfast. Use the half-and-half you bought for coffee in case your daughter's love drank coffee, but is unopened because no one drinks coffee. Add a heaping tablespoon flour. Remember that the family definition of "one tablespoon" is a heaping tablespoon, and add another for a total of about 50g flour. Estimate that half a teaspoon salt and quarter teaspoon pepper is sufficient for the filling. Stir until smooth. Stir cabbage and onions.

Address the Kümmel issue.

You dislike caraway seeds, but they are traditional, and should be added "to taste," like the salt and pepper. Hunt for the caraway seeds. Find three unlabeled bottles in the spice cabinet that could be caraway. Smell them all. One is certainly celery seed. One of the other two is very licorice. The other one in an old hexagonal honey jar is undefined. Worry the licorice is the anise. Check the baking cabinet for the anise, taste to compare. Come to no conclusions. Take the mystery spices to the family. On sight, daughter declares the anise-flavored one to be fennel. Make husband taste test. Husband declares the undefined one the caraway. And stale. Ask if anyone really wants caraway in the Krautkuchen. Daughter declares it up to you. Throw away caraway seed. Sip some wine. Save hexagonal jar. Stir the cabbage.

When the dough has risen, dust the counter (wait, wipe it off first) with flour. Cut dough in half. Knead one dough half with a few folds into a flat disk about a hand's-breadth wide, and dust the top with flour. Remember your favorite rolling pin is still dirty from biscuits. Get out the back-up rolling pin, and congratulate yourself on keeping two of everything. Quickly roll into a large circle. Get the 30cm springform pan from the cabinet. Drape the dough over it, and realize it's far too large, and thus will be too thin on the bottom. Try to get the dough to relax into a smaller shape. Fail. Stir the cabbage. Sip some wine. Decide to fold the dough back into a disk and re-roll. The dough is now too springy. Stir the cabbage. Sip some wine. Remember the other half of the dough. Re-dust the counter. Form the other half into a disk, re-roll into a smaller circle, drape into the pan. Sip some wine.

By now the cabbage has cooked far longer than the 10 minutes your aunt specified, has some nice brown spots, has reduced in volume, and is slightly translucent. The onions are fairly brown. Stir the cabbage into the sour-cream mixture until it is coated. Pour cabbage filling onto the crust. Fold crust edges over top of the filling, convincing yourself it looks "rustic." Bake for half an hour.

Sip some wine.

Set the table.

Make daughter happy.

(Similarly, when half a tree fell on our only car during Superstorm Sandy, I thought, "The kid goes to school across the street and we both walk or bike to the train station. Who needs a car?" Anyone who needs groceries in the suburbs. And to go to karate lessons in the 'burbs. And doctor's appointments. And has elderly parents who live in different suburbs and have doctor's appointments. And. And. And.)

I don't cook with my microwave. No one cooks with their microwave. Bacon doesn't count. Heating a Hot Pocket is not cooking, and we don't even do that. The chicken nuggets go into the oven. (Well, actually, I do have a great recipe from Jean Anderson for microwave mushroom risotto that's very yummy.) The microwave does see a lot of defrosting action, but that can be mitigated with proper planning. Ignore the fact that if I could plan properly to begin with, I wouldn't be defrosting chicken breast and Italian sausage in the microwave at 5:55 each night.

Where the microwave has insidiously gripped the throat of my modern life with it's sticky, grippy tentacles is in reheating leftovers. Without a microwave, how would you re-heat a leftover bowl of chili and rice? Or salmon with peas and farfalle? Or half a pack of cooked breakfast sausage links? Or steamed broccoli? No wonder the cookbooks of the previous generation abounded with recipes for leftover noodles, rice, vegetables and meat.

So far we have:

• used the 8-quart metal mixing bowl as an impromptu double boiler for the salmon farfalle (the 3-quart Pyrex bowl was too good an insulator); wow, that took a long time
• placed a plate on top of the pot of boiling water and covered my son's salmon and peas because god forbid his food should be mixed together like normal people
• wrapped the sausage in a tin foil packet and popped it into a toaster oven
• chili on the stove over medium heat not to burn, add or pour over cold rice
• re-boiled the rigatoni while heating the sausage and onions over a double boiler; son said they pasta tasted like eggs (perhaps the texture)
• stared at the broccoli and moved on (yes, quiche, sigh)

We have bought a new microwave, and returned it the next day, because when we used it, the food remained cold, but the machine got a hot spot. Right now the parts are on order to fix the old microwave (not the old-old microwave, which mind you still works with one minor mechanical glitch, but that's used for photographic chemicals now).

Maybe I will pull out my grandmother's cookbooks.

Microwave Risotto

Ingredients:

• 2 Tbsp. butter
• 2 Tbsp. olive oil
• 1 cup chopped onions
• 1 cup arborio rice
• 3 cups chicken broth
• 8 oz. sliced mushrooms
• 1/2 cup grated asiago (or romano) cheese

[All of this should be done UNCOVERED, on high.]

Put 2 T butter and 2 T olive oil in 2" deep 8-10" quiche dish. Microwave for 3 minutes (on high).

Add 1 cup chopped onions and microwave for 4 minutes.

Stir.

Add 1 cup of arborio rice and microwave for 4 minutes.

Stir.

Add 3 cups of chicken broth and 1 container (8 oz.) of mushrooms. Microwave for 9 minutes.

Stir.

Microwave 9 minutes.

My friend Dominus, who gave me this recipe, noted he often needed anther 9 minutes cooking time, as do I. I have (had) 600-Watt oven,

Add 1/2 cup grated romano, asiago, or similar cheese. Salt and pepper to taste. Stir.