Spelt is one of the oldest of the legumes or pulses. Neolithic man ate spelt, Bronze Age man ate spelt and it was very common in the Middle Ages. Now it is considered a relict legume–once common, now rarely cultivated. It is tasty and good for you and has not been overbred like wheat has. Sort of like a healthy mongrel dog as opposed to an hysterical and delicate overbreed purebred.

It’s mainly a winter dish, but cooking it now, in the spring, you can make use of spring onions and fresh garlic (the tender purple kind). I won’t give amounts because if you have ever cooked, even once, you won’t need measurements for this kind of dish. Q.B., as the Italians say. Quanto Basta. Enough.

Soak the spelt in water overnight and throw the water away in the morning. Gently sautée lots of fresh spring onions and new garlic in lots of olive oil. When the spring onions are very fresh, they are not hard to digest and you can kiss anyone afterward. So sautée them together with two or three small ripe cherry tomatoes, two sprigs of rosemary and, if you like, a chunk of Speck, a tender, smoked ham.

when the onions are tender, add the spelt and sautée it until it has soaked up the taste of the onions, garlic and speck. Add salt and then water. I use a pressure cooker, which is always clean and fast. You can cook the spelt in a regular pot but you have to keep stirring which is tedious. Surely you have better things to do with your time, like reading a book? Go check your email and read Doonesbury on Slate. Anyway, cover the spelt with twice the amount of water, close the pressure cooker and cook for 20-25 minutes.

When serving, add a drizzle of fresh olive oil and enjoy with some wholewheat bread. Delicious!

I got a really nice review from Night Owl for Darkness at Dawn. Very satisfying. I think Darkness at Dawn might be the best book I’ve written so far:

Title: Darkness at Dawn | Authors: Elizabeth Jennings 

 Score: 5.00 / 5 – Reviewer Top Pick Review:

This book is A-MAZ-ING. First we have Mike Shafer, an alpha hero that is to die for, he’s scrumptious and tough and an Army Captain. Second we have Lucy Merritt, a survivor, expert in manuscript restoration and quite possibly an off the scales genius. Lucy is such a fun character, she’s always thinking ahead and has chamaeleon abilities. She can blend into many situations almost seemlessly, leaving Mike internally scrambling to catch up with her quick wits. Thankfully Mike is quick on his feet. From Mike and Lucy’s first meeting the sparks begin to fly, and they are quickly thrust into the adventure of a lifetime in the Himalayan Kingdom of Nhala. What Lucy lacks in physical strength Mike more than makes up for, and some of the most interesting scenes involve him carrying her piggyback across wet rooftops one step ahead of the bad guys. I hesitate to say more because I don’t want to spoil the surprises for anyone. I thoroughly enjoyed the escapades in this book, and have it on my read again soon list. Elizabeth Jennings’ books just keep getting better, and this latest installment takes her work up a notch. The story line is inventive and exciting, with poignant scenes that tug on the emotional strings of the reader. Fans will be thrilled with Darkness at Dawn and new readers will find it a thrilling adventure of espionage and romantic suspense.

So, Barnes and Noble along the Waterfront, no more. And I’m told that the Union Square and Westfield Borders are gone now, too.

Man.

The Borders at Union Square sort of anchored the square and the Borders at Westfield–well, a shopping center NEEDS a bookstore, right? Wrong, I guess. You can have all the shops selling all the useless stuff, but apparently there’s no need to have books, too.

The Union Square Borders was my very first stop, every time, in San Francisco. We usually arrive late, after what feels like a trip from the Moon, but the very next morning, jet-lagged, I’d head off to the Borders. Walk in the door (or over the threshold because the door was usually open) and just stop and breathe in the atmosphere. then up the escalator with a stupid grin on my face because, well-THERE BE WONDERS. A huge bookstore full of books I hadn’t read! Waiting to be read!

There was this enormous hue and cry when the big box chains edged out the small indie booksellers and yes, in a perfect world, there should be cute little indie booksellers on every corner. Those were the kind of bookstores I was used to in Florence. Small, because of course space is at a premium in Florence. Crowded shelves. Dust. A slight whiff of mold. Two very nice English language bookstores, but small, too. Very definitely tilted toward the intellectual.

I’ll never forget when I moved to Brussels and discovered the huge SH Smith’s on Boulevard Adolphe Max. I walked in and my jaw dropped. A huge space! Enormous! Filled with books! But it didn’t smell of must! I’d head down every lunch hour from Berlaymont, even if it meant only having twenty minutes to browse. But at the end of Adolphe Max in the Jurassic, when I joined the Commission, was an amazingly ugly building (since justifiably torn down) called the Manhattan, where we interpreters often worked and it was five minutes from the WH Smith’s. Heaven. They had everything–thrillers, mysteries, science fiction, romance. It was there that I discovered romance because, well, who knew?

Much as I love indies, they just can’t compete. Couldn’t compete. Because I guess the era of the big box bookstores is over.

Sigh.

RIP.

Sign on a closing Borders: NO RESTROOMS. TRY AMAZON.