Recipe: super easy avocado toast

an avocado toast of my own creation.
the bread is homemade!

Despite having grown up with a Mexican father who slathers avocado on his bread all the time, I hadn't tried avocado toast until my sister took me to  Little Collins for brunch when I was visiting her in New York. It was delicious, but rather too spicy  due to the chili flakes they use in their recipe. Their topping mixture included feta cheese as well as avocado, and they sprinkled pepitas on top. Anyway, I was hooked and started incorporating avocado toast into my diet. A recent blood panel showed I'm a little low in good cholesterol, which basically means I'm medically mandated to eat avocado toast, right?

Here is my recipe, the simplest thing in the world:

• half an avocado
• 1 slice of bread, any kind (I prefer whole wheat)
• salt and/or pepper, to taste (I like both)

Put the bread in the toaster to toast, at whatever setting makes it toasted but not too hard. While the bread is toasting, use a knife to halve the avocado and slice up one half in the shell, then scoop it out with a tablespoon. Put the avocado slices in a small bowl, then grind sea salt and black pepper onto the slices (my grinder contains both). Mash with a fork, unless you're out of silverware because you haven't washed your dishes yet, in which case just use the tablespoon, but it will be harder. Take the toast out of the toaster and put it on a plate or napkin, then scoop the avocado mixture onto the toast with the spoon, smoothing it out so it covers the toast evenly. Lick the bowl and utensils clean (recommended). Eat the avocado toast.

Obviously this is a very bare bones avocado toast recipe, but you can use it with various toppings, such as a fried egg, as my brother had on his visit to Little Collins last week (I shed a single jealous tear, watching the Instagram story), or vege- or real meat, or anything, really. I tend to use the avocados that are about twice the size of a hen's egg, but if you use the big ones, you can possibly get two avocado toasts out of one half, depending on how thick you like your avocado topping. Once my parents' avocado tree starts producing fruit, I'll probably use one avocado per bread slice since those are tiny. The size of the bread will affect your avocado toast, too. I tend to buy bread with small slices (~3.5 in. square), and I brought home some thick avocado slices from the cafeteria, and one slice was enough for my little slice of toast. The avocado toast at Little Collins was delicious, but there was just so much topping piled up so high on the toast that it was difficult to eat. I kept worrying the topping would spill. One should not feel worry while eating avocado toast; one should only feel bliss.

I really love avocado toast because I'm a decadent yet lazy millennial, and it's the easiest of my two favorite avocado dishes to make. I also love guacamole a whole lot, but it's way more time-consuming to make, and I rarely have cilantro on hand because it wilts almost immediately and I end up throwing it away. I actually used to not like avocados at all growing up, except in guacamole. I still can't really eat avocados by themselves, and even putting avocado by itself in tortillas isn't enough. The whole wheat bread provides just enough texture and crunch, and balances the creamy rich avocado nicely.

Book reviews: Shroud for the Archbishop and The Subtle Serpent by Peter Tremayne

At my previously mentioned thrift store book splurge, I found two more books in the Sister Fidelma mysteries by Peter Tremayne. Shroud for the Archbishop is the second book in the series and takes

place right after Sister Fidelma and Brother Eadulf arrive in Rome, a trip they were ordered to take at the end of the first book. Here's the Amazon summary, edited for length:

Wighard, archbishop designate of Canterbury, has been discovered garrotted in his chambers in the Lateran Palace in Rome in the autumn of AD 664. The solution to this terrible crime appears simple, as the palace guards have arrested Brother Ronan Ragallach as he fled from Wighard's chamber. Although the Irish monk denies responsibility, Bishop Gelasius is convinced the crime is political and that Wighard was slain in pique at the triumph of the pro-Roman Anglo-Saxon clergy in their debate with the pro-Columba Irish clergy at Whitby. There is also a matter of missing treasure: the goodwill gifts Wighad had brought with him to Rome and the priceless chalices sent for the Holy Father Vitalian's blessings have all been stolen. Bishop Gelasius realises that Wighard's murder could lead to war between the Saxon and Irish kingdoms if Ronan is accused without independent evidence. So he invites Sister Fidelma of Kildare and Brother Eadulf [a Saxon] to investigate. But more deaths must follow before Fidelma is finally able to put together the strange jigsaw in this tale of evil and vengeance.

I enjoyed this one because it was set in Rome, which I have visited, and the catacombs make an appearance. I liked how all the different nationalities and cultures mingled and lived side by side. I also liked how the whole relics market thing was addressed (a splinter from the cross of Christ is undoubtedly fake). Unlike the first book, the mystery had me guessing, and I had no idea who the killer was. There was a gay couple in this book, only one of which is effeminite, so Tremayne is making progress. They do die rather horribly, but baby steps. It occurred to me that Tremayne is trying to show that gay people existed in antiquity and the middle ages, to counteract the idea that no gay people existed before Oscar Wilde, with Sappho being an outlier. He does it in such a hamfisted way that it makes me chuckle to think it's him being a historically accurate(?) ally, but anyway. 

The other book, The Subtle Serpent, is actually the fourth Sister Fidelma book, so I need to find the third somehow. Despite this, I didn't really feel like I was missing any information. I initially thought it was the third SF book, because at the end of SftAb, Fidelma gives Eadulf a book before they both set off on their respective journeys, and then she finds the book she gave him on a mysteriously abandoned ship. Here's the Amazon summary:

In the year 666 A.D., a headless female corpse is found in the drinking well of a remote abbey in southwest Ireland: clasped in one hand is a crucifix; tied to the other arm is a pagan death symbol. Sister Fidelma--sister to the king of Muman, a religieuse, and an advocate of the Brehon law courts--is sent to investigate. En route, she encounters a Gaulish merchant ship under full sail off the Irish coast--one whose crew and cargo have vanished without a trace.
Faced with a tense local situation, Fidelma must discover first the identity of the body in the well and uncover who was responsible, then find out what happened to the missing crew of the adrift merchant ship, and, finally, determine how these bizarre events are connected. For these events are more than simply disturbing--the peace of the entire kingdom rests upon their solution.

This one was a fun ride, although there were enough bumps to make me uncomfortable. For starters, the abbey is run by a bitchy, pompous abbess who surrounds herself with young nuns specifically so that no one will question her authority, and she makes it as difficult as possible for Fidelma, messing with her investigation at every turn. The one disabled person in the abbey is treated with contempt, and actually hides her intelligence by affecting a stutter and reading the library's books at night. She's accused of the second murder, and the abbess whips up a frenzy in the abbey, and if it's not for Fidelma, she would have been killed. The abbess's ex-husband is the local governor's (who is also the abbess's brother) personal priest (clergy can marry in the Celtic church), feeds everyone lies, and spreads rumors that the abbess is a lesbian and is in an incestuous relationship with their own daughter. All this with a pagan idol conspiracy, Fidelma almost getting shot in the woods, and even more of that ferked up family dynamic, plus lots of secrets and political intrigue. Also, Fidelma is worried about Brother Eadulf's disappearance. It all comes together in the end.

These two books were better than the first one, for sure. I didn't figure out the killers, and the twists had me going back and forth. There were way fewer references to Fidelma's appearance, with only one mention in the beginning of the book of how "rebellious red strands of hair snaked out from her headdress", which is basically verbatim from the first book. Like, why do we have to know that. Also, people grimaced way too much in these books. People only grimace when they're in pain or thinking about something gross, not to signify agreement or greet people, ffs. Remember how I said it was stupid that Fidelma was a grown woman who had no idea what attraction or a crush felt like? Well, it turns out Fidelma had a boyfriend who dumped her or died or w/e, so it's EVEN STUPIDER. Being bitter over a failed relationship doesn't mean one forgets what butterflies in the stomach mean. Ridiculous.

Score: 3.8 and 3.9 out of 5 stars
Read in: beginning of August
From: the thrift store
Format: paperback
Status: giving away

Book review: The Book of the Dun Cow by Walter Wangerin Jr.

Spoilers throughout.

Walter Wangerin's profound fantasy concerns a time when the sun turned around the earth and the animals could speak, when Chauntecleer the Rooster ruled over a more or less peaceful kingdom. What the animals did not know was that they were the Keepers of Wyrm, monster of evil long imprisoned beneath the earth... and Wyrm, sub terra, was breaking free.

Animal books were one of my first loves. If there is any book about anthropomorphic animals that talk or fight battles reminiscent of Good vs. Evil, I am immediately sold. This one is probably the most obvious Christian not-an-allegory since The Chronicles of Narnia, what with the evil serpent and his offspring being successfully fought by faith, etc. 

What I was surprised to learn, however, is that TBotDC draws from the fable of Chanticleer and the Fox (the version found in "The Nun's Priest's Tale" from the Canterbury Tales) and the mythological basilisk. I have a book of Aesop's fables, so I'm sure I already read Chanticleer and the Fox, plus Chanticleer is an old name for a rooster that pops up in various older works. Chanticleer's wife is Pertelote, in both "The Nun's Priest's Tale" and this book. That's pretty much were the similarities end; there was a fox in TBotDC but he was friends with Chanticleer and his family. 

When it comes to the basilisk, however, everything I know about that mythological creature comes from Harry Potter. The main thing that sets the basilisk apart is the fact that it turns anything it looks at into stone, Medusa-like. However, this never happens in TBotDC. The basilisks in that book don't seem to have that power at all, otherwise the battle would have been over pretty quickly. The Encyclopedia Mythica says that the non-antiquity basilisk is part snake, part rooster, was hatched by a toad from the egg of a black rooster (Senex wasn't black, that I remember) and is also called cockatrice. This, in a nutshell, is the villain of TBotDC (apart from the Wyrm, but Cockatrice is clearly the Wyrm's son).

See? I'm pretty well-versed in mythology and fairytales, and I'd never heard of this. Also, in this picture (found on the basilisk Wikipedia page) is a weasel covered in what looks like rue, the one plant basilisks would not touch. According to this fascinating article, the smell of a weasel was the only thing that could kill a basilisk, and weasels ate rue to make themselves imperious to basilisk venom. The weasel character is the most voracious and successful killer of basilisks in the book, and the animals all rub rue all over themselves in order to be able to fight the basilisks. Read all about rue and its historic uses here.

The Smithsonian article more closely matches Cockatrice's origin: "An aged cock, which had lost its virility, would sometimes lay a small, abnormal egg" to be hatched by a toad in a dunghill (I think Cockatrice's egg was hatched in the coop). The Wyrm persuades Senex to have his own son by laying an egg, aka turn his back on the natural order of things, like the snake in Genesis. The basilisk is also said to have a horrible smell that kills anything near it. In the book, Cockatrice's smell permeates the land, and while it doesn't kill anyone, it's horrible for everyone who lives there. 

Pliny the Elder echoes the end of TBotDC: "The animal is thrown into the hole of the basilisk, which is easily known from the soil around it being infected. The weasel destroys the basilisk by its odour, but dies itself in this struggle of nature against its own self." This is basically what happens, except instead of the weasel, it is the dog Mundi Canus who throws himself down into the pit to stab the Wyrm in the eye with a horn from the Dun Cow. Just as in the fable when Chanticleer gets the Fox to open his mouth and let him go by accident through pride, Mundi Canus gets the Wyrm to show his eye to be stabbed by taunting it into pride. I thought the dog  died from the struggle, but Amazon informed me that there are two more books in the series, and Mundi Canus comes back in the second book, which my library has! That makes sense; while TBotDC's ending was definitely a denouement, I felt like the evil had not been completely vanquished. 

the inside front cover of TBotDC

On the Dun Cow: it seems to be only Chanticleer who sees her and has visions from her. I thought her to be a representation of God, but Wikipedia calls her "one of God's messengers", which would make her an angel. Just now I was reminded of another book, possibly one by Lloyd Alexander, where one of the protagonists goes to a Great Cow and is nourished back to health with its milk. There are cow deities, so lots of precedence for the Dun Cow. I don't think the Dun Cow showed up enough to warrant the book being named after her, though. 

There was a lot of sadness and horror in this book, but I really liked it. If you hate heavy-handed Christian allegories/parallels in fantasy fiction, this book is not for you. If you like books about anthropomorphic animals battling evil, mythological creatures and mythology, or Christian fantasy, I would definitely recommend this book.

Score: 4 out of 5 stars
Read in: end of July
From: the thrift store
Format: paperback
Status: keeping, but it's not a set in stone thing

Book review: Summer Hours at the Robbers Library by Sue Halpern

I bought Summer Hours at the Robbers Library because of the cover. I am a simple woman; if any book is about libraries, bookstores, librarians, or old books, I immediately want to buy it. Barnes & Noble had a buy 2, get 1 free deal going on, so what more did I need?

Requisite Amazon summary:

People are drawn to libraries for all kinds of reasons. Most come for the books themselves, of course; some come to borrow companionship. For head librarian Kit, the public library in Riverton, New Hampshire, offers what she craves most: peace. Here, no one expects Kit to talk about the calamitous events that catapulted her out of what she thought was a settled, suburban life. She can simply submerge herself in her beloved books and try to forget her problems.
But that changes when fifteen-year-old, home-schooled Sunny gets arrested for shoplifting a dictionary. The judge throws the book at Sunny—literally—assigning her to do community service at the library for the summer. Bright, curious, and eager to connect with someone other than her off-the-grid hippie parents, Sunny coaxes Kit out of her self-imposed isolation. They’re joined by Rusty, a Wall Street high-flyer suddenly crashed to earth.
In this little library that has become the heart of this small town, Kit, Sunny, and Rusty are drawn to each other, and to a cast of other offbeat regulars. As they come to terms with how their lives have unraveled, they also discover how they might knit them together again and finally reclaim their stories.

I expected this book to be heartwarming, a love letter to public libraries and their ability to transform people and build communities, and it was, but... it was really sad? Kit, the reference librarian, has fled from a tragic betrayal; Sunny's parents are anarchist vegan hippies who lie to and neglect her; and Rusty lost everything in the 2008 stock market crash and is desperately trying to see if this Riverton is the one that holds his grandmother's forgotten bank account. I could have handled the latter two storylines fine, but Kit's was too sad. I especially didn't like how the people who failed Kit didn't get a comeuppance.

The main story, the Riverton Library, is set in 2008 and told fairly straightforward. It is interspersed with Kit's journaling of what happened to her as well as Sunny's memories of her family life. Kit's journal entries are told chronologically, if I'm remembering correctly, and Sunny's memories jump back and forth in time. The book actually opens with the first of Kit's journal entries, although we don't know it yet. That first chapter is a recounting of Kit's sexual exploits, a jarring beginning that does not vibe with the rest of the book. I think the book should have started with Sunny's recounting of her juvie trial, not Kit's college love life. It makes the book seem atonal, since we keep going between the rather peaceful but economically troubled library/town life and the disturbing, painful and angry accounts of Kit's pre-Riverton life. The book ends with all of the primary characters opening up and letting each other in, and finally seeing Riverton as their home.

I would recommend this book to anyone who likes books about libraries and doesn't mind sad/disturbing stories.

Score: 3.9 out of 5 stars
Read in: late July
From: Barnes & Noble
Format: paperback
Status: tentatively keeping

Mini book reviews: books I read at the thrift store because I didn't feel like buying them

A couple of Sundays ago I went to two different thrift stores and went ham at the book section. I bought dozens of books (I did not stop to count them). There were a couple of books at the first thrift store that I read there because I wasn't sure I wanted to buy them.

The Missing Piece and the Big O by Shel Silverstein
I think most people are familiar with Shel Siverstein's books (The Giving Tree, etc.). I had already heard of and read The Missing Piece, which is about a Pacman-shaped object who has a missing piece and is looking for a pie slice-like object to take in its mouth so they can become whole and roll around. It's been a while since I read this book, but I remember that after trying out dozens of differently sized pie slices and even some other Pacmen, our protagonist finally finds a pie slice that fits. This book seems to be an alternate version of the one I just told you about, because it starts in a similar way but ends differently. In this book, a pie slice waits for the perfect Pacman to make them whole, but is often overlooked and meets only pieces or Pacmen that aren't right. Then they meets a fully round shape (the Big O) who tells them that if they start going on their own, they'll become whole. So the slice starts flopping forward, and eventually wears down their corners until they're a round shape and can roll around the way they've always wanted to. I like this book's message rather more than the first, since the first Missing Piece book tells you to wait and be patient, because your soulmate will come one day. This one tells you to stop waiting for someone else to make you whole, get going with your life, and you'll become whole by yourself. I just checked and TMPatBO was indeed written after TMP. Brain Pickings has a lovely write-up about TMPatBO.

Stuart Little by E.B. White
I read most if not all of the E.B. White books in elementary school, and loved them. White is best known among the K-12 set as the author of Charlotte's Web, and to college students and writers as the author of Strunk and White, a guide to grammar, punctuation, and writing. When we were kids, my sister had a set of the most-loved E.B. White children's books, including Stuart Little, Charlotte's Web, and Trumpet of the Swan. Wikipedia says that Stuart Little was actually his first book for children. I remember loving that book, as I do any book about tiny things or people or anthropomorphic mice. Rereading it as an adult, however, I found Stuart to be rather smug and full of himself. His adventures are delightful, as are his little clothes and gear. But he's vain and his pride is not even tempered by his loneliness, as shown by his ruined date by the only girl in the world the same size as him. I also found it weird that he fell in love with a bird, and that animals can apparently speak to humans and write in this book. The world-building didn't seem to be consistent. Also, the book has no real ending! Stuart just takes the road once more to find the bird. That's it. It's like White ran out of ideas. Anyway, a fun read worth sharing with any children in your life.