Tiny marsupial, big cooking find

Yesterday I didn't do any Pride Month nod, for various reasons. One was not to rush in on top of the people whose pride it's about. One was not to shove a whole large population's human rights into a medley, like an afterthought. 

So here, with better attention, is my contribution

Crouton is the beloved rescued Jersey steer from Squirrelwood Sanctuary, a farm in NY State, run by Diane and Beth, committed to saving and caring for animals ranging from retired racehorses, one a descendant of Seattle Slew, calves, donkeys, pigs, geese, you name it. 

Some were removed from abusive situations and needing rehab, all cared for, named and with followers who gladly contribute to the endless need for fodder, housing, work  and medical attention. Diane and Beth are the couple you want to be when you grow up.

And here, oddly fitting, is yesterday's introduction to a cookbook writer, poet, columnist, brilliant young woman barely hitting thirty yet, and already with great accomplishment. 

This book comes with its own ribbon bookmark, too, and is such a friendly place, fun to read and I'm going to try the food, too. 

She's one of the few people who are not from Yorkshire but know what a pikelet is, and doesn't refer to it, unlike most London based food people,  in that oh how cute and quaint those strange northern folkways are..

Without intruding on her personal life, yes, she fits right in here, is simply open to love and friendship in a way that I find just so natural and right. 

And she has massive swings from energy and brilliant output to the depths of depression. Again, I'm not embarking in amateur diagnosis, just observing.

This midnight chicken is what she credits with saving her from ending her life again,  after one attempt she survived. I'm very thankful for it and the friend who was there for her. Part memoir, part cookbook, this book is a Good Thing entirely.

And just in case you think I haven't been cosy and cheerful and cute enough, here's the answer

This is enough to set your awwmeter registering eleven.

Yesterday's library movie was Lalaland, which drew a crowd of two to the library. The audience thereby doubled in size. 

It was down to one again when I left after giving it a fair chance, over an hour, before deciding life's too short to be watching a white guy trying to muscle in on another culture's art form, jazz,  in Hollywood. And various other unlikely scenarios. It all seemed to be moving in slow motion. Anyway, despite all its awards, not my thing.

Hope springs eternal, though. I'll see what next week has to offer. 

Meanwhile, knit on, vote, pray, contribute, let's mind our own patch and reach out to others' patches, too.