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quadrillebooks:

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Photography by Tara Fisher

We call it chef’s chow: the tasty, quick food the chefs at the restaurant throw together for the team to eat before service, and this is a great example. You can use it as a base, too, by adding sliced chicken or fish along with the beans. It’s nice to have some…

nprbooks
nprbooks:


Author, poet and King of the Macabre Edgar Allan Poe was born on this day 205 years ago. Poe’s life was full of loss: By 3, he had lost both his parents; by 25, he had lost both his foster parents; and by 40, he had lost his beloved wife, Virginia. (Not to be all dark and dreary on his birthday, but this is Poe we’re talking about.)
His poem “Annabel Lee,” one of my favorites, was discovered after his death in 1849: 
It was many and many a year ago,    In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know    By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought    Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,    In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love—    I and my Annabel Lee— With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven    Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,    In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling    My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsmen came    And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulcher    In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,    Went envying her and me— Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,    In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night,    Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love    Of those who were older than we—    Of many far wiser than we— And neither the angels in Heaven above    Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side    Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,    In her sepulchre there by the sea—    In her tomb by the sounding sea.
 (Image via Wikipedia)

nprbooks:

Author, poet and King of the Macabre Edgar Allan Poe was born on this day 205 years ago. Poe’s life was full of loss: By 3, he had lost both his parents; by 25, he had lost both his foster parents; and by 40, he had lost his beloved wife, Virginia. (Not to be all dark and dreary on his birthday, but this is Poe we’re talking about.)

His poem “Annabel Lee,” one of my favorites, was discovered after his death in 1849: 

It was many and many a year ago,
   In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
   By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
   Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
   In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
   I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
   Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
   In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
   My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
   And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
   In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
   Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
   In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
   Of those who were older than we—
   Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
   Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
   In her sepulchre there by the sea—
   In her tomb by the sounding sea.

 (Image via Wikipedia)