Crescent Rolls

not (insert phlegmy french accent here) croissants, but crescents. not out of a can, but by hand. pretty dinner rolls, and rather unusual. i got this recipe from the King Arthur flour webpage, but i made some changes. yes, i did! that must mean i'm getting good at this bread thing. i can say that 'cause these crescents are gooooood. kinda unusual with the addition of ground coriander. i left that in. but instead of using shortening, i used half shortening, half butter. and instead of vanilla or fiori di sicilia (whatever the hell that is), i used my malted barley syrup. hey, it's a huge jar and i've only used it for bagels so far--i have to find some way to use it up! turns out i'm a genius. these rolls are the softest i've ever made, and have a nice depth of flavor. another hit. yay me :)

Orangutan Bread

not monkey bread made with cinnamon rolls, but orangutan bread made with orange sweet rolls. i thought it was a great idea when i saw the recipe so today i finally made it. it's....orangey. really orangey. there's nothing wrong with lori's recipe. it's good, don't get me wrong, but...i'd much rather have monkey bread. this has no cinnamon whatsoever. or any other spice. just...orange. the pecans help, though i made half of it without pecans for the non-pecan eaters in the house. next time....well, there won't be a next time. i'm making monkey bread from now on! if you're wanting monkey bread now like i do, here are a few different versions to look at :)

Take Two Aspirin & Blog Me In The Morning

"ugh," gavin cardigan grunted as he entered the pub.

"back at ya," danny blake replied with a snarl. "what's your problem? no wait, let me guess....hangover?"

cardigan nodded. "a doozey. i'd ask for a hair of the dog, but i didn't get drunk in the first place. i have no idea why i feel like this."

"join the club," blake murmured, pouring his friend a Guinness. "we all feel like that today." his gesture took in the others in the pub, all looking rather the worse for wear.

"what's that smell?" cardigan sniffed at the spicy, strong scent perfuming the air, noting the steaming bowls on the table in front of his friends.

"menudo," danny was already pouring a ladlefull into a heavy bowl for him. "best hangover cure ever."

"if you say so," cardigan sounded doubtful as he joined the others with his beer and menudo. "how did this happen to us?"

sierra charles shrugged as she scraped her spoon around her empty bowl. "beats me, but i can't really complain if it means eating menudo. this stuff is terrific, danny!" she pointed her spoon at her empty bowl.

marian was poking at her laptop. "i'm at a lost. i'm looking everywhere for some kind of medical explanation and am coming up empty."

"it should be good inspiration for a country song, though," linda nulo noted, turning toward her lanky boyfriend. "don't you think, hon?"

tucker swallowed the last of his menudo, shaking his shaggy head. "if i'd really been drinking, i could knock something out, but without knowing why i feel this way...i got nothing."

special assistant hepzibah slumped into the pub at that moment. "i can explain." she sat down next to marian, looked at the menudo and shuddered. "i'd rather suffer, danny. thanks, anyway."

"what happened, hepzibah?" the dishwater blond Mysterious Lurker asked. "where's burkie?"

"typing," s.a. hepzibah answered. "about this. see, he was at a different tavern last night, ordered a beer, and then the owner kept sending more his way before he could finish the one he was drinking. so, we feel this way because burkie feels this way."

"and he's taking it out on us!" marian made a face, then winced. "ouch. my face hurts."

"how'd burkie charm the owner?" taylor wondered. "threaten to put him in his blog as a zombie or something?"

"no, he wasn't buying drinks for burkie only. he was buying drinks for everybody. and you know burkie, he's such a sweet guy--" she glared at cardigan until he stopped coughing, "--he drank the beer. and the next. and the next. he hasn't had this much to drink since st. patrick's day, 1984!"

"so, burkie's hung over and he's making us feel it, too," tucker mused. he strummed a couple of chords and shook his head. "nope, still nothing."

"actually," hepzibah admitted with some annoyance, "he doesn't feel hung over at all. he's shocked that he doesn't, actually. he just doesn't want it to catch up with him, so he's channeling any hangover qi he may have into us."

"hangover qi?" sierra was skeptical. "wtf?!"

"yeah, even i don't buy into that concept," the Lurker had borrowed marian's mirror, wishing she could borrow her scowl as well as she examined her still-dishwater blond locks.

s.a. hepzibah shrugged. "hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"can we shoot burkie?" cardigan growled around a mouthful of menudo.

"then officer shakalaka could come interrogate us," the Lurker noted mischeviously, "right, hepzibah?"

s.a. hepzibah put her hands on her stomach to calm the butterflies. "uh, you know, that menudo doesn't look too bad...."

Cop Out!

"howdy, danny boy!" cardigan greeted his friend behind the bar as he jovially entered the pub. "what are you serving on this surprisingly autumn-like summer evening?"

"crab and corn chowder," came danny blake's reply. "with a hunk of burkie's poolish baguette."

"burkie's here?" cardigan looked around the pub, seeking out their handsome creator.

"no, but he sent me over to deliver the bread," explained special assistant hepzibah, waving at him from the table where the others sat.

cardigan took his beer from blake and walked over to join them. "what's burkie been up to lately?"

"baking and creating."

"oh. well, when you see him, would you tell him i need a new car? i mean, the ferrari's cool, and i'd like to keep it, but it gets horrible mileage and it runs on premium. i can't afford to drive it right now."

"you should get a hybrid," marian advised. "burkie should be advocating more of a green lifestyle."

"i ride a scooter," taylor noted.

marian snickered. "you should see his cape flapping behind him when he rides it."

"i use public transportation," the golden-haired Mysterious Lurker said. "i don't have a driver's license. it's my way of sticking it to the man."

"what do you use for official identification then?" asked blake, intrigued as he delivered cardigan's chowder and bread.

"that's an excellent question," stated the policewoman who strode into the pub at the moment, her thick black hair braided behind her. "she never seems to have it on her whenever i ask for it."

"oh!" flustered, s.a. hepzibah begins searching frantically through her planner. "i'm sorry, who are you? you don't seem to be in burkie's notes."

"nor my spreadsheet," marian added, clicking away on her laptop with a puzzled look.

"hello, officer shakalaka," the Lurker greeted the imposing law enforcer. "danny keeps my purse behind the bar. i'll get it for you."

"officer shakalaka?" sierra asked. "may i see your badge, please?"

the police officer narrowed her eyes as she approached the table. "you doubt who i am?"

"no, it's not that," sierra explained as she read the writing on the badge. "damn. it only says 'Police.'"

"officer shakalaka?" s.a. hepzibah's face was definitely pinker than usual as she addressed the woman in the starched uniform. "i need to report your presence here to burkie. could you give me your full name, address, and phone number, please?"

"sgt. tarboom shakalaka, but my friends call me 'boom-boom." she reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. "here's my info. burkie can call me later if he wants." she winked. "or you can."

the card slipped from hepzibah's fingers and fell to the floor. taylor handed it to her since he was already down there picking up the fork he had knocked off the table.

officer shakalaka turned back toward the bar to talk to the Lurker, and stomped her foot. "where'd she go?"

danny shrugged his shoulders. "i don't know. she was here just a second ago." he looked around in vain. "she's good at appearing and disappearing at will."

"so i've noticed," the policewoman glared at blake, then stormed out the door.

tucker strummed his guitar as she left:

if you break the law
she'll break your jaw
so unclench your fists
and let her cuff your wrists
it's a losing hand
for a betting man
boom-boom shakalaka
boom-boom
boom-boom shakalaka
boom-boom

she's a fiesty lass
so don't give her sass
she'll bust your lip
or pistol-whip
you on the head
listen what i said
boom-boom shakalaka
boom-boom
boom-boom shakalaka
boom-boom

Blueberry Cream Cheese Braid

pretty, isn't it? i found this recipe on the fresh loaf. it makes two loaves....i, er, well, this loaf looks better, you see? i was in the mood to try something different, and there are lots of fresh blueberries around, so this recipe won. unfortunately, i didn't read the direcitons all the way through. i made the dough, and then it says to refrigerate overnight and then fill, shape, and bake the next day. er, i wanted to make it today. so i got to refrigerate it a good 6 hours after rising, so that should be enough. then i prepared the fillings (the cream cheese mixture and the blueberry mixture) and pulled the dough out and shaped it according to plan....and then read i had to let it rest another 45 minutes before baking. aaarrrggghhh!!! so yeah, it's late now, and i haven't actually tried it yet as it needs to cool....so while it cools, i'll let the folks at work know that they get to eat the one pictured here tomorrow. we'll, uh, eat the ugly one here....just watched the women's gymnastics prelims on the olympics....i haven't watched the olympics--especially the summer olympics--in YEARS. i've watched quite a bit already this year, and i'm rather enjoying it. (still cooling) i've watched men's & women's swimming, men's & women's gymnastics, and women's beach volleyball so far. now i'm going to watch more swimming. okay, it cooled enough. oh, it's good. it maybe got a leeetle crispy on the bottom, but very good. i don't think you have to refrigerate it overnight :)

CYA: Boom-Boom & Linda Get Started

NOTE: if you did not jump to this chapter as a result of the Choose Your Adventure story, please go here before reading any further!


boom-boom and linda walked outside. "my car," boom-boom walked toward her cruiser. "i can get us there faster. which reminds me, where is there, exactly?"

linda reached for the passenger door. "the san francisco film museum. the Back To The Future delorean is on display there. i read about it in the Chronicle.

"good job!" boom-boom grinned as she slid behind the wheel and put her hand on the key.

linda buckled herself into the passenger seat and said, "atomic batteries to power. turbine to speed."

boom-boom: "roger. prepare to move out."

the engine came to life, boom-boom flicked on the siren & lights, and they peeled out. "think anybody reading this will catch that reference?" linda asked.

boom-boom shook her head. "not likely. burkie's sister maybe, but that's about it. and that's only if she bothers to read as far as our part of the adventure."

"well, let's make the best of it. push it, boom-boom!"

fortunately for them, the san francisco film museum was conveniently, er, convenient to the Pub and they arrived in hardly no time at all. they jumped out of the car and ran inside to the display.

"step aside, everybody!" boom-boom's voice, er, boomed out. "please exit the exhibit now! this is a police emergency!"

the patrons scattered. as boom-boom reached for the driver's side door, linda grabbed her arm. "i'm driving now, remember?"

boom-boom grumbled but acquiesced. as she walked around the car, she stopped by a glass case and smashed it open with her nightstick, and reached in to withdraw a silver briefcase.

"extra plutonium, for the trip back," she explained as she climbed into the passenger seat.

"good thinking," linda nodded, then indicated her cell phone. "i got a text from marian. she said the experiment took place at boston university on march 10, 1876."

boom-boom set the date as linda drove the car from the museum. "okay. now, we need to get the car up to 88 miles per hour. we'll have to get on the freeway to do that."

linda nodded. "on my way."


Click here for story option 1

Click here for story option 2

Potato Focaccia

i wanted to use my own homegrown cherry (or grape) tomatoes for this, but was too impatient to eat them to wait long enough until i had enough, so i bought some. the only herb the wednesday chef uses is dried oregano, but i added some fresh thyme & rosemary from the backyard (just because i can), and added a bit of finely shredded parmesan as well (just because i like it), and used garlic-infused olive oil on top (just because it cried out for it). the major flaw with this recipe is that it makes far too little. it was superb, and i could easily have eaten the whole thing (but had to share). not as oily as some facaccia's, and that's a good thing, but loads of flavor (and that's a great thing).

(Not) The Guns of Will Sonnet

"damn, it's hot!" cardigan announced as he entered the pub. "danny boy, i hope you have something to cool me down."

the man behind the bar poured his friend a Bass. "i've got grilled beef & jicama salad, hoss. it should do the trick."

"you're a good man, mr. blake. don't let anyone tell you different."

cardigan took his beer and walked over to join the regulars. "howdy, y'all."

"hi, gavin." marian didn't look up from her laptop as she greeted him.

"what are you working on, marian?"

"a letter for my column," replied the celebrated author of the advice column "Don't Be So Melodramatic." she began to read out loud:

Dear Marian,

My sister is throwing a birthday party for her son's first birthday. However, my fiance and I are planning to get married that same day. She's asking us to change our wedding date because her son reserved that date when he was born 12 months ago, but we only chose our wedding date 2 months ago. She also believes that because this is my second marriage, I shouldn't make such a big deal out of my wedding, the way i did the first time around. I refuse to switch dates because that is the only time the reception hall we want to use is available. Plus, her son is only 1-year old! He'll never remember this, so it's stupid to have a party in the first place. At the very least, he won't remember it was a week late if they postpone it. What do you think?

Signed,

Fuming Sister, Blushing Bride

"first birthday outweighs second wedding," sierra reasoned. "she had her day in the spotlight."

"that's harsh, charles," cardigan stated. "you can't devalue somebody's marriage just because it's the second time around. the kid can wait a week."

"i don't know," blake mused as he dropped off cardigan's salad. "i've heard that divorce rates for second marriages are even higher than for first marriages. i think a reception hall is a risky investment in a second wedding. they could just go to a pub, instead."

"good point, danny," Mysterious Lurker agreed, reaching back to put her purple hair back in a ponytail. "second weddings should be less about planning and stress, and more about fun and saving money."

"maybe," taylor said thoughtfully. "but come on, a first birthday party? those are for the parents, not the kids. what's a 1-year old going to get out of it? presents that the parents didn't have to buy. i say cancel or postpone the birthday party."

"what do you think, tucker?" linda asked her shaggy-headed boyfriend.

"i agree with taylor," tucker replied, strumming a chord on his guitar. "i'd like to write a song for somebody's wedding."

she listened to the preacher's words
and breathed out her "i do's."
she gazed into her partner' eyes
and stated she did, too.
the preacher said, "you both are bound
together for this life.
may your days be filled with love,
i pronounce you wife and wife."

cardigan raised an eyebrow. "wife and wife? what makes you think it's a same-sex marriage, tucker?"

"well, nothing in the letter, really. but there's bound to be a growing market for same-sex wedding songs, so i'm trying to carve out my niche early."

"hmmm, that's a good point," the Lurker pondered. "there's probably lots of marketing opportunities lurking there, so to speak. how about 'Hers & Hers' monogrammed towels?"

"'Groom & Groom' magazine," sierra suggested.

"drag queen gowns and drag king tuxes," cardigan offered.

go not to seek my father's blessings sweet
for he cannot divine a love so rare
and worry not 'bout all the empty seats
as we exchange our vows in open air
the absence of the priest will not be marked
a stately hall would only block the sun
your elegance may well go unremarked
an organ's pipes will not bellow and hum
and yet this day will live forevermore
within the very fabric of this world
foundations will be shaken to the core
the banner of enlightenment unfurl'd
we will no longer hide nor remain mute
as we declare ourselves an institute

billy shakespeare recited softly as he cleared the dishes from the table.

"bravo!" marian clapped, then scowled at her laptop. "but that doesn't help me with fuming sister, blushing bride."

"you heard shakespeare--love is more important than birthdays, especially first birthdays," cardigan noted.

"i agree," marian nodded decisively. "the sister can more easily change the date of an unimportant first birthday party. besides, she shouldn't be so melodramatic!"

Bring Out Your Dead!

gavin cardigan entered Poor Yorick's Pub, wiping his brow. "danny boy, serve me up something cool and refreshing!"

pub owner danny blake poured his friend a bass ale. "i've got just the thing: Curried Pineapple Hummus with Herbed Egg Roll Chips."

"that sounds awfully...perfect," cardigan acknowledged, taking his beer and heading toward the other regular patrons. "what's up, guys?"

"we're wondering what other famous person we can bring back from the dead besides benjamin franklin," linda nulo explained.

"I AM NOT DEAD!" ben franklin strode in, visibly agitated, and banged his fist on the table. "confound it, how many times must i explain this? i am not back from the dead!" he turned toward blake. "barman, please bring me an ale!"

"hmmm," cardigan said thoughtfully, taking a sip of beer. "but do we know for sure how we , er, how mr. franklin happens to be here?"

"we talk about him," taylor stated. "that should be all it takes. i vote for lee harvey oswald. we can find out if he really was a lone gunman."

"i don't know," cardigan replied. "he doesn't seem all that interesting beyond that. do you really want to hang out with oswald? mr. franklin at least is cool."

ben franklin took his beer from blake and clicked his glass against cardigan's. "thanks, dude."

"i've given this matter much thought," marian declared. "and i vote for leonardi da vinci! he's extremely interesting."

"true," cardigan nodded. "but, could he speak english?"

"oh....probably not," marian pouted.

"sir francis bacon!" sierra exclaimed excitedly.

"he didn't invent bacon, charles." cardigan pointed out.

"oh. never mind."

"how about amelia earhart?" linda suggested. "we could find out what really happened to her."

"i don't think so," cardigan observed as he dipped his eggroll chip into the pineapple hummus. "as mr. franklin says, he's not dead. so, i don't imagine ms. earhart would know how she disappears if she were to come here."

"stop it! stop it right now!" judge st. bishop entered the pub, his eyes flashing. "we've interfered with history enough by tainting mr. franklin here." he looked with interest at the pineapple hummus. "hey, danny. can i get some of that? thanks."

"i am not tainted, sir!" ben franklin sputtered. "i am quite aware of my responsibilities to the space-time continuum and the Prime Directive."

the judge looked alarmed at the star trek references, but decided to drink some beer instead.

"whom do you vote for, danny?" Mysterious Lurker asked as he brought over the judge's hummus.

"i don't care," blak grumbled, "as long as it isn't elvis or james dean or marilyn monroe. i don't want my pub to look like one of those bars where dead celebrities hang out. no offense, mr. franklin."

"dammit, i am not dead!"

"how about you, mr. franklin?" sierra asked. "which famous person from history would you like to speak with?"

"mark twain!" he set his pint glass down vehemently.

the judge puts his fingers in his ears and started to chant, "i'm not hearing this, la-la-la, i'm not hearing this!"

"mark twain? but he lived after your time," taylor pointed out.

"la-LA-la-la-la-la, LA-la-la-LA-la."

"that scoundrel wrote vicous things about me in his story, 'the late benjamin franklin.' i wager my stove could smoke his head off in four minutes, as small as it must've been!"

"no mark twain," blake said firmly. "you never see his picture without a corn-cob pipe, and i won't have him smoking in my pub."

"the one who tops my list of those to meet
is andrew's bro, the first pope: simon pete."

sierra looked at the balding man with pointed beard and mustache speaking in iambic pentameter as he cleared their table, and groaned. "danny, please tell me your new busboy isn't william shakespeare."

the playwright winked at sierra and recited:

"thine eyes they shimmer with a purple glint
that speak in tones that must be heaven-sent."

marian snickered and ben franklin exchanged a high-five with the Lurker.

"look at the name of this place. what choice did i have?" blake shrugged.

"i was going to vote for shakespeare," cardigan grumbled.

Vampires! Zombies! Postmasters General! Oh, my!

"howdy, danny!" gavin cardigan greeted his friend as he walked into the pub. "serve me up something good."

danny blake was already pouring a Bass for him. "i've got some mediterranean kebabs in pita bread with tzatziki."

cardigan took the pint with a sigh. "you are a saint, my friend." he turned around and limped over to join the others.

"hey, cardigan. why are you limping? you never told us the other night," sierra inquired.

cardigan grunted as he took his seat. "i went to hawaii for my last job to investigate a business opportunity for a client. i went surfing and wound up twisting my knee."

"tough job," taylor muttered.

"yeah," marian nodded. "i really feel for you."

"how about you, sierra? what are you doing these days?"

"i signed a contract with a pharmaceutical firm to do commercials, magazine ads, billboards--that sort of thing," sierra replied, "but the Lurker is working on something much more exciting."

"what's that, Lurker?" danny asked with interest as he served cardigan his meal.

"i'm writing a movie script," the Lurker smiled up at danny, moving the dark brown bangs away from her eyes. "and i have an agent already! she's sold several scripts to studios, and she's really enthusiastic about mine."

"what's the movie about?"

"it's about this writer who can bring real people like benjamin franklin back from the dead just by writing about them," Mysterious Lurker explained. "and--"

"how many times must i explain this, young lady? i am not dead," benjamin franklin stated in hard, even tones as he walked in. "i am as alive as you are. i simply go from my time to your time."

"so you're writing a movie about burkie?" marian asked. "i hope danny devito can find time in his schedule to play him."

"no, it's not about burkie. when this guy writes about famous people, they come back from the dead as zombies, so people have to deal with the psychological trauma of killing their personal and national heroes or else see their friends and family eaten for dinner." the Lurker turned toward benjamin franklin apologetically. "no offense, mr. franklin. it's just a fictional story meant for entertainment."

ben franklin smiled at the yellow-haired Lurker. "no offense taken, my dear. in fact, i'm fascinated by the idea! tell me, do i start eating people while they're still alive, or do i kill them first?"

"NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!" judge st. bishop stormed into the pub, shaking his head. "you cannot turn benjamin franklin into a zombie! he's a founding father! why don't you use somebody like george stephanopoulos? hey, that looks good." he noticed the plate in front of cardigan and turned toward blake. "can you fix me one of those, too? much obliged, danny."

"george stephanopoulos isn't dead yet, your honor." marian pointed out.

"calm down, magistrate," ben franklin patted the upset man on the shoulder. "it's quite all right. i'm honored to be the subject of one of these moving pictures."

"will there be any vampies in the movie?" taylor asked, showing off his fangs.

"maybe a chinese vampire," the Lurker mused. "can't you see chairman mao hopping around with his arms outstretched?"

"that could be good," the judge acknowledged. "i'd pay to see that."

"not me," geoffrey pompousass commented as he cleared empty dishes off the table. "all your writer would have to do is stop writing, then no more zombies. sounds like a short movie," he snickered.

"not as short as your career," blake glared at him. "you're fired. if you're not out of here in less than 60 seconds, i'll have taylor bite you."

taylor bared his fangs, and the Lurker leaned over to kiss danny on the cheek. "that was really sweet, danny. thanks for taking up for me."

blake muttered under his breath as his face blushed to match the Lurker's hair, and followed pompousass to the door.

CYA: The Judge & The ChronoGuard Get Back To Business

NOTE: if you did not jump to this chapter as a result of the Choose Your Adventure story, please go here before reading any further!


"now that we've taken care of burkie, shouldn't we go to 1876 now and rescue you?" the judge asked.

ChronoGuard Ben nodded. "right. let's go!"

they faded from burkie's texas bedroom and appeared in a building on the boston university campus on 10 march, 1876.

and found themselves face-to-face with...


Click here if you think it's mr. franklin


Click here if you think it's not