Dear god. I forget how rich Newburg sauce is until I make a double batch. Damn. It shouldn't be - it is really nothing more than a standard white sauce, made with cream instead of milk and then with a couple of egg yolks mixed in at the end. You wouldn't think that makes such a difference, but damn. I was so full and so tired last night that I was unable to post.
Melt the butter, stir in the flour and make a roux. Add the cream and stir until it thickens. Add the scallops or lobster or whatever you like, pre-cooked, and bring them up to temperature in the sauce. Add the yolks, stirring to incorporate. dust in the cayenne. Serve immediately.
Ours are served in popovers that have been hollowed out, but lots of people use puff pastry shells. Makes no difference.
The rain let up for a little while yesterday, so we went for a walk to see what we could see. An easy 3-mile loop on the carriage roads sounded easy enough, right? Well, it seems I had forgotten how steep that little cluster of hills was, and we were right pooped by the time we got home. After a day outdoors, I made the scallops Newburg you see above, and all three of us (pup included) quietly slipped into the sleep of the just. Thunder woke me at around two this morning, but I went right back to sleep. I saw no flashes of lightning worth staying up for.
On our walk, I managed to take a few pretty good pictures. This was Quinn's first time on this walk, and she was so excited she could barely contain herself. Here she is being a very small dog in a very big park.
And here is a waterfall we stopped to admire:
And here is a little stepping-stone waterfall that feeds into a culvert that runs under the carriage road. Quinn is very suspicious of it. Note that her ears look a lot like Dobby's. This is her hesitant and on-guard look. It sounded a lot like the shower, and she hates to have her bath.
And finally, here is one of the bridges over Hadlock Brook. The part of Hadlock Brook that you see here - above Upper Hadlock Pond - is closed to fishing. It serves as the hatchery and incubator area for the native brook trout population that wildlife conservation people are trying to encourage to come back. The fishery was greatly depleted for a while and is beginning to come back, in part because of this kind of effort. But it absolutely HURTS that we cannot fish this perfect little stream. Oh, god! How it aches! Anyway, here's the bridge to take the carriage road over the brook.
There was a brief bit of sunshine this morning when I awoke at 7:45, but it lasted approximately 10 minutes and has been replaced by more clouds and drear. This wet stuff has got to stop, or I'm going to lose my mind or go broke, or maybe both. Grr.
These are the ramblings of a cranky, middle-aged lesbian building contractor on the coast of Maine. I am opinionated as hell and argumentative most days. I like to cook, build things, opine about politics and the state of the world, and occasionally sew. I dabble in welding and would like to be better at it than I am. I am patient only as long as I am so inclined and have nothing else to do. I am often wrong, but never in doubt. I hold the world and myself to unreasonably high standards. You might not like it. Too bad.
Some of what is in this blog is probably inaccurate as hell. My memory is faulty. I try my best, but mistakes will be made. If my version of events does not exactly match your memories of those events, get your own blog and write about it there.