Beth Cato's Blog, page 85
June 23, 2016
Excerpt from Auston Habershaw’s NO GOOD DEED
I’m happy to welcome Auston Habershaw to my site! The second book in his Saga of the Redeemed series came out Tuesday from Harper Voyager Impulse. You can read an excerpt here today, and grab the full book for only $2.99!
More about No Good Deed:
Cursed with a magic ring that forbids skullduggery, Tyvian Reldamar’s life of crime is sadly behind him. Now reduced to fencing moldy relics and wheedling favors from petty nobility, he’s pretty sure his life can’t get any worse.
That is until he hears that his old nemesis, Myreon Alafarr, has been framed for a crime she didn’t commit and turned to stone in a penitentiary garden. Somebody is trying to get his attention, and that somebody is playing a very high-stakes game that will draw Tyvian and his friends back to the city of his birth and right under the noses of the Defenders he’s been dodging for so long. And that isn’t even the worst part. The worst part is that the person pulling all the strings is none other than the most powerful sorceress in the West: Lyrelle Reldamar.
Tyvian’s own mother.
Now for sale:
Amazon | B&N | Harper Collins | Google Play | iBooks
No Good Deed Excerpt
Prologue
The main courtroom in Keeper’s Court, Saldor’s hall of justice, had five sides, one for each of the arcane energies that made up the world. The accused stood in the center, chained by the wrist to a large squat stone at the center of the floor. Dull, black, and trapezoidal, “the Block” was so old that the courtroom itself was several centuries its junior. It was said that, in the old days, the condemned would have their heads struck off the moment the verdict was read. Those were primitive times, however—blood was no longer spilled in the Saldorian courts. They had other ways of making the condemned regret their actions. Ways that would not stain the woodwork or upset any children present.
There were four judges for any major trial—one for the Ether, one for the Lumen, one for the Dweomer, and one for the Fey. They each sat in a pulpit that loomed over the Block, as staring down one’s nose at the accused was an ancient custom that even this modern, enlightened age wasn’t keen on abandoning. The fifth pulpit, the Astral one, was occupied by a rotating cast of witnesses, accusers, defenders, and officers bound to present physical evidence to the court. Between these five pulpits and elevated a dozen feet above the floor was the gallery, where citizens of Saldor were encouraged to come and witness their justice system operate. They were even encouraged to bring things to throw sometimes, and jeering was understood as good form. It was surprising, honestly, the frequency with which persons present could shed illumination on a matter with a simple threat or insult, whether by prompting the accused into a rash reply or bringing new evidence to light. Justice in action, as it were.
Today, the gallery was in a rare mood, and eager to speed justice along. Beneath them, standing tall and graceful in her gray robes, a Mage Defender was about to hear her sentence. Kari Dempner looked at her, big eyes heavy with what might wind up being tears, despite her best efforts. “It’s not fair,” she muttered beneath her breath. “It just isn’t.”
The question, of course, was whether Kari, runaway merchant’s daughter turned ink-thrall, would do anything about it. Could she stand up there, in court, with all those eyes on her, and speak what she knew to be true? Did she have the courage? Her knees shook beneath her skirts and she wished she had some Cool Blue to calm her. “It’s not right,” she muttered again.
The howls of the mob drowned out her whispers. She doubted the rabble had even the slightest clue what the charges were, but to them it didn’t matter. Corruption trials always brought out the worst sorts—there was no shortage of criminals in the gallery, as well as a smattering of moon-faced idealists and bitter conspiracy loons. To see their biases confirmed by the courts was too rich a confection for them to abstain. They were here to wallow in it.
“Myreon Alafarr.” The voice of the Lumenal judge echoed through the chamber, amplified by the enchantments placed upon the pulpit itself. He was a frail old man in a white robe too large for him and a wig that seemed likely to slide over the front of his crumpled face at any moment. Arthritis had bent his hands into claws that could barely cling to the white orb he bore. “You will stand, please.”
A scent wafted past Kari’s nose—cologne, probably of Akrallian make, expensive and too liberally applied. Its cloying odor sent icy needles dancing down her spine. It meant one thing …
“Why, Ms. Dempner, what a pleasant surprise.” A voice, soft and gentle as a baby’s hand, whispered breathily in her ear. A man’s hand—also soft and powdered, bedecked with jewels and well-manicured—fell upon her shoulder and lay there, limp and heavy. “Enjoying the show?”
Kari knocked the hand away by instinct and turned to see Gethrey Andolon, her former lover (though the term applied only loosely). He grinned at her with teeth buffed and polished to an ivory shine, which marked a stunning contrast to his rouged lips and dyed blue hair. It was a fashion popular among young men, but Andolon was too old by almost twenty years to wear it. He ought to have looked ridiculous. Instead, his soft brown eyes made Kari’s heart shrivel up like a raisin in her chest.
Meanwhile, the Lumenal judge had interrupted the proceedings in order to have a coughing fit, the sound magically cast about the room so that all could hear the phlegm in his throat with the juicy clarity afforded someone sitting next to him at a dinner table. When it passed, the judge proceeded with the rituals of justice. “You stand accused of fraud, improper sorcerous conduct, and conspiracy to traffic in illicit magecraft, to which you have pled innocent. You have heard the arguments brought against you in the case and have been confronted by the evidence collected by the Defenders of the Balance. Do you wish, at this point, to change your plea and throw yourself upon the mercy of the court?”
Kari looked back at the accused. All it would take would be for her to stand and make herself heard, and the world would know Myreon was innocent. “I could do it,” she said over her shoulder. “You couldn’t stop me.”
Andolon chuckled quietly and motioned to the taciturn Verisi with the crystal eye sitting beside him. “So I’ve been told, Ms. Dempner. Why do you think I’m here?”
Kari glanced at the Verisi—an augur. Of course. She should have known. Anything she might do, Andolon’s pet augur could predict, assuming he had scryed the outcome of this proceeding. Nothing about to transpire was a surprise to Gethrey Andolon. He had set it up all too well.
Andolon tsked through his teeth. “Don’t be so glum, my dear. Perhaps Magus Alafarr will change her plea, eh? Maybe none of this will be necessary.”
“She won’t.” Kari hissed. “She’ll never. That woman has balls bigger than you’ll ever have, Andolon.” All about them, the gallery howled for Alafarr’s blood.
“She won’t do it,” the augur stated, his real eye far off, scanning the strands of the future.
“She’d better not.” Andolon snorted. “Otherwise we’d have come across town for nothing.”
Alafarr had to think she might win. Kari knew the mage had a lot of friends come forward in her defense—staff bearing magi, Captain-Defenders, and so on. Her alibi was strong, too, and her accusers had no motive they could clearly articulate. It was agony to think all that evidence was going to count for nothing. Finally, the Mage Defender’s voice echoed up from below. “I will retain my original plea, your honor.”
Andolon snickered, adjusting his lace ruff collar. “Perfect! Perfect!”
The gallery loved it, too—a chant of “Stone her good’ began in one corner. Others threw rotten vegetables her direction. They missed. Kari felt her heart sink, weighed down by the slippery, limp hand of Gethrey Andolon creeping back onto her shoulder, finger by finger.
“Don’t do it,” he whispered in her ear, the heavy scent of his cologne making her cough. He rubbed her shoulder again, slowly, gently—a man stroking a prized possession. “I can make it worth your while, Kari. Ink enough to swim in. Think about it.”
The Lumenal judge raised his orb and it flashed with sun-bright brilliance. Order fell over the court. “Does the accused wish to address the court prior to hearing our verdict?”
Kari trembled. The temptation of the ink was like a physical force—she could scarcely breathe with the thought of it. Andolon could afford it, too—that was why she first latched onto him. He was the first educated man who had spoken to her in months and he didn’t mind her vices—even approved of them. It wasn’t until later that she realized the price she had paid for his company. The price to her pride; the wearing out of her soul. Gethrey Andolon wanted to consume her, just as he wanted to consume everything around him. He was like ink given human form.
Alafarr’s voice was firm, even in the face of her disgrace. “I wish to say only that I am innocent of these charges. I am being framed for a crime I did not commit …”
Now was her last chance. Kari glanced over her shoulder and saw Andolon, watching her carefully, his augur whispering in his ear.
“… the evidence is faulty or tampered with, and I ask the court to reflect upon my service to the Defenders of the Balance, to Saldor, and to the Alliance of the West when considering my guilt in this matter.”
Kari saw in Andolon’s eyes her future—her long, slow slide into oblivion, cheerfully abetted by her onetime lover. She saw herself winding up in some Crosstown whorehouse, barely aware of the world around her, her blue-stained fingers wedged forever in a series of little glass jars.
Andolon rubbed her shoulder some more. “Don’t, Kari. Be smart for a change.”
Alafarr’s voice did not waver; she did not shout nor sneer. She was the picture of dignified poise. “I did not do it, there is no reason I would have done it, and I would not have been able to do it at the time my accusers claim. I have shown you as much when preparing my defense. The guilty parties are likely in this room as we speak, here to gloat over my misfortune. Were I not forbidden from naming them, I could tell the court exactly where to find them.”
She knew! Adrenaline surged through Kari’s legs. She shook off Andolon’s hand with a glare and stood. She was going to do it. She, Kari Dempner, was going to do the right thing for the first time in a long, long time.
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words were cut short by a bright, sharp pain across her throat. She clutched at her neck, eyes wide—a wire, thin and strong, lay across her windpipe. Strong arms dragged her back to her seat. She writhed, but the man with the garrote held her still, dragging her backward.
The Lumenal judge was reminding Alafarr of the complicated legal justification for her gag order while a low rumble of furtive conversation percolated through the gallery. Kari kicked her legs, flailed with her arms, striking people around her. She got a few annoyed glances but nobody seemed to notice anything amiss. Blood thundered in her ears, laced with panic. How did they not see? How could no one notice her being murdered, right here?
Andolon’s face floated into view. “I would introduce you to my little angel of death, but he’s the quiet type, you see. Nobody can hear you, Kari, and nobody will notice you are gone until the crowd clears.”
The orb was raised and flashed again. The gallery grew quiet, still oblivious of the woman being strangled in their midst. “Is that all?” The old judge asked Alafarr.
“Yes, your honor.”
The judge nodded. “Will the judges please stand to deliver their verdicts?”
Kari felt her limbs grow heavy. The fight in her was gone. She looked back, trying to see her killer. All she could make out was a shadow of a man, nondescript save his mouth and a small tattoo of a button just above the corner of his lips. A Quiet Man of the Mute Prophets; a man with no soul.
Andolon tsked. “Such a shame, Kari. I would have liked just one more tumble with you. You always were so … so pliable in bed.”
One last jolt of energy surged in Kari—anger, shame, fear, all rolled together—and she threw her head backward at the Quiet Man, causing him to lose his grip for a second. She gasped one more breath of air, honking like a half-dead goose, only to have the garrote slam home again.
Her last attempt at escape was drowned out as the gallery hissed and booed at Alafarr. The Mage Defender stood stock-still as three hundred people shouted all manner of insults. A rotten apple squelched against the Block not more than a foot from her leg.
The Lumenal judge raised his orb and restored order again. Everyone settled down; the theatrical portion of the event was over. The old judge’s voice came to Kari as though in a dream. “The Judge of the Lumen finds the accused to be innocent.”
The judge to the Lumen’s left, the Fey judge, nodded. “So noted. Do you affirm it seven times?”
“I do so affirm.”
Kari felt her thrashing heart thrill at this small victory—maybe Alafarr would be innocent after all, maybe Andolon wouldn’t have her killed this way …
Andolon cocked an eyebrow at her. “Is she still alive? Dammit, man—finish the job. We’re almost done here.”
The Dweomeric judge was next. She was an older woman with iron-gray hair and a severe demeanor. “The Judge of the Dweomer finds the accused to be guilty.”
“She better,” Andolon grunted under his breath. “She cost a bloody fortune.”
The Lumenal judge asked for her affirmation, and the Dweomeric judge affirmed three times, as was traditional. A tie. For Kari, the world began to fade away. Her brief moment of escape and the seconds it bought her were almost at an end. She scarcely heard what followed.
“The Judge of the Ether finds the accused to be guilty.”
“So noted. Do you affirm it thirteen times?”
“I do so affirm.”
Kari’s mind drifted to her childhood in Ihyn, playing with her mother aboard her father’s ship, telling tales of selkies who stole naughty children. The sun on her hair and the smell of the sea …
“The Judge of the Fey finds the accused to be guilty.”
#
There was a cheer from the gallery. The chant of “STONE HER GOOD” began in earnest, so loud it almost drowned out the final formalities. Gethrey felt buoyed by their petty hatred. He began to chant along, a grin splitting his face.
“So noted. Do you affirm it once?”
“I do so affirm.”
Alafarr did not sink to her knees, or faint, or quail. If anything, she seemed more rigid than before. Her face was a mask of serenity. Gethrey grinned at this, knowing how the woman must have been raging inside. He nudged DiVarro, his augur, in the arm. “It’s too perfect. Too perfect by half!”
He spared a look at Kari—she had stopped twitching, finally. Gods, strangling people took forever, evidently. He’d had no idea.
The old Lumenal judge spoke over the crowd. “Myreon Alafarr, you have been found guilty of the crimes of fraud, improper sorcerous conduct, and conspiracy to traffic in illicit magecraft. You are hereby stripped of your staff and expelled from the Defenders of the Balance from this day forward. Furthermore, you are to be petrified and confined to a penitentiary garden for a period not exceeding three years. May your time as stone allow you to contemplate your crimes with the depth and gravity such acts deserve, and may your ordeal strengthen your resolve against such misdeeds in the future. This is the finding of this court, under Hann’s guidance, and with the blessing of Endreth Beskar, the Lord Mayor of Saldor, and Polimeux II, Keeper of the Balance. Court is hereby adjourned, and the accused’s sentence shall be set to begin immediately.”
Gethrey applauded with gusto as Alafarr was led away, giggling like a boy. Around him, the mob howled and jeered even as they headed for the exits. Nobody raised any alarm about any dead woman beside him. The plan had worked perfectly. “There, DiVarro,” he said finally, “that’s settled. We can proceed.”
“There is a complication.” DiVarro said.
He threw an arm around DiVarro’s waist and steered him toward the exits, drifting along in a river of human flotsam, all high on what they perceived to be justice. “You augurs—always so dire. Alafarr was our last obstacle, understand? I had all the other angles covered. Now, she is disgraced, Kari is dead, and you know what the best part is?”
DiVarro said nothing, frowning at his hands.
Gethrey laughed. “There is no one in all of this world who will bother trying to help Myreon Alafarr.”
On the day Auston Habershaw was born, Skylab fell from the heavens. This foretold two possible fates: supervillain or scifi/fantasy author. Fortunately he chose the latter, and spends his time imagining the could-be and the never-was rather than disintegrating the moon with his volcano laser. He lives and works in Boston, MA. He has a blog at http://aahabershaw.com/.
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June 22, 2016
#SFFchat on Wednesday, Plus Huge Book Giveaway
About #SFFchat
Back in December, a bunch of Harper Voyager US/UK authors got together on the #SFFchat hashtag to talk about writing, publishing, and the sci-fi/fantasy genre with aspiring SF/F authors. We had a fantastic discussion (read the highlights), so we’re going to do it again.
On Wednesday, June 22nd at 3pm Eastern and 9pm Eastern, 18 Voyager authors will be answering questions on Twitter under the #SFFchat hashtag. Each chat will last an hour. We’re also doing a massive giveaway of Voyager e-books and print books, which you can enter using the widget below. All are welcome! Please join us if you want to talk about SF/F and maybe win some free books. A list of what you might win:
The Brass Giant- Brooke Johnson
The Oldest Trick- Auston Habershaw
Elixir: A Changeling P.I. Novel- Ruth Vincent
Desert Rising- Kelley Grant
Breath of Earth- Beth Cato
The Rogue Retrieval- Dan Koboldt
Grudging: Birth of Saints- Michelle Hauck
Mercury Retrograde- Laura Bicklel
Across the Long Sea- Sara Remy
Los Nefilim (print)- Teresa Frohock
Dissension- Stacey Berg
Three Days in April- Edward Ashton
Unexpected Rain- Jason LaPier
Hero Born- Andy Livingstone
Shadow of the void- Nathan Garrison
Darkhaven- Afe Smith
The Drowning God- James Kendley
If you’re an author seeking representation or publication, we hope you’ll also join the #SFFpit Twitter pitching event on Thursday, June 23rd.
BONUS: And the Voyager authors have started a Facebook group just for SFF fans called SFF Junkies. It’s a new place to hang out and talk SFF books or even writing. You can find it in the rafflecopter or use this link.
Enter the Giveaway
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Bready or Not: Cato BBQ Rib Rub
Today I’m providing my personal favorite, tested-a-gazillion times rub recipe for pork ribs.
How you cook the ribs is up to you. My husband has a smoker, so he smokes these things for hours for delicious, succulent results.
However, using this rub, you could barbecue ribs on a grill, or bake them in the oven. The choice is yours!
The amounts stated in this recipe will cover about 5 pounds of meat. If you have leftover mix that hasn’t been in contact with raw meat, jar it and save it for later. You can also double or triple the recipe with that in mind.
I have made this with several types of paprika. I favor smoked paprika, but all kinds worked well. I have also made this with fresh oregano and dried. You could certainly substitute or add other herbs, too.
Whenever I find ribs on a good sale, we use this recipe. It’s one we often make for when company comes over, too. Everyone leaves full and happy!
Bready or Not: Cato BBQ Rib Rub
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A Bready or Not Original! This rub mix will cover about 5 pounds of your favorite pork ribs; baby back ribs are excellent. If you have leftover mix that hasn’t been in contact with raw meat, jar it and save it for later! You can double or triple the recipe with that in mind.
To intensify flavor, rub the meat and stash it in the fridge for a few hours before cooking.
2 Tablespoons paprika, any variety
1 Tablespoon brown sugar, packed
1 Tablespoon dried oregano or 1/2 Tablespoon fresh oregano
1 Tablespoon ground coffee
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon ground pepper
Combine rub ingredients well, making sure to break up any clumps. Coat the meat, front and back.
Cook ribs as desired: smoke, grill, or bake.
OM NOM NOM!
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June 21, 2016
Interview with Sara Dobie Bauer, Author of Bite Somebody
I’m excited to welcome my dear friend Sara Dobie Bauer as we celebrate the release of Bite Somebody from World Weaver Press! This book is fun and flirty, the very essence of a summer beach read.
Oh hey, I even blurbed the book! I said: “Witty banter and hot sexy-times make BITE SOMEBODY sparkle in all the right ways.”
Seriously, read this interview and go order this book.
Celia is so frumpy and utterly relatable. And Ian… yeah. You often use celebrities as an inspiration for your male leads. Was that true here?
In regards to Ian, yes … and no. There’s this one photo shoot of Benedict Cumberbatch that sort of nailed Ian’s “look.” I mean perfectly. However, Ian’s personality is a mix between the goofy Benedict I’ve seen in interviews, my husband’s general laidback-ness, and the sweet Boy Next Door stereotype. Ian is his own man, truly. He may have been inspired by outside sources, but he came to life when I wrote him. He’s so ingrained as a real person in my head, we sometimes play Jeopardy! together. Which isn’t weird, okay? It’s just a writer thing. Don’t judge me!
The romantic chemistry zings in this book. Is that sort of banter easy for you to write, or more slow and deliberate?
When I was single, banter was my Mona Lisa. Banter was my David. Banter was my 1978 Pittsburgh Steelers. Now that I’m married, I still banter with my Jake, but there’s a surplus of romantic one-liners in my head, which seems to come out on the page. I utilize dialogue to build chemistry, which might be a crutch, but it’s worked so far. If two people can talk to each other (through one-liners, innuendo, and even thoughtful confessions), romance naturally grows from spark to flame. I can’t do anything slowly or deliberately … except maybe mix cocktails. That’s an art form, damn it.
One of the things I appreciated about Bite Somebody was how you stayed pretty true to traditional vampire lore (no sparkles) while making it modern and fresh. What are some of your favorite vampire books?
This is weird, but I love dark and twisted vampire books, even though the only thing truly twisted about Bite Somebody is Imogene’s hair. My most recent favorite is The Lesser Dead by Christopher Buehlman. (The man can do no wrong.) Funny, I grew up reading Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles. I tried reading one recently and didn’t like it. Go figure.
Let’s talk setting. This is based on a location in Florida you know quite well, right?
You bet! Longboat Key! I renamed it Admiral Key for Bite Somebody, because I didn’t want to have to get everything exactly right, like street names and stuff. (Lazy writer.) I head down to Longboat Key every year for a pilgrimage with my Aunt Susie, where we drink rum punches and hang at The Drift Inn, just like the vamps in my book. It’s a place of peace, quiet, and immature hilarity.
How do you plan to celebrate on release day?
I’ll have a rum punch, put on my highest heels, and dance to 80s rock. While wearing vampire teeth.
Order Bite Somebody on Amazon or World Weaver Press
Sara Dobie Bauer is a writer, model, and mental health advocate with a creative writing degree from Ohio University. She spends most days at home in her pajamas as a book nerd and sex-pert for SheKnows.com. Her short story, “Don’t Ball the Boss,” was nominated for the 2015 Pushcart Prize, inspired by her shameless crush on Benedict Cumberbatch. She lives with her hottie husband and two precious pups in Northeast Ohio, although she would really like to live in a Tim Burton film.
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June 19, 2016
Sunday Quote notes it’s Father’s Day
“Children will read and accept stories which would be frightening to their parents. Children are still in touch with dragons and seraphim.”
~ Madeleine L’Engle
June 15, 2016
Bready or Not: Oreo and Caramel Cake Batter Brownies
If you need a fast chocolate fix, I have the recipe for you.
This uses cake mix as a base for decadent brownies. If you don’t have caramels, chop up some candy bars. Use full-size Oreos or break up some other kind of cookies. Just let caramel and chocolate, in some form, get cozy.
After you combine everything, this bakes up in about 20 minutes. It smells like heaven, too. A heaven oozing with chocolate.
These bars end up chewy and mild. If you want deeper flavor, use dark chocolate.
This is a Bready or Not Original, too. I modified it from my Golden Oreo Cake Batter Blondies.
Bready or Not: Oreo and Caramel Cake Batter Brownies
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Use cake mix as a base to create quick, chewy brownies! Customize with whatever chocolate or candy you have handy, but you can’t go wrong with caramel and Oreos. A Bready or Not Original.
1 box devil's food cake mix
1 teaspoon espresso powder, optional but awesome
1/4 cup canola oil
1 egg, room temperature
1/2 cup milk or half & half
1 cup chocolate chips
1/2 bag Caramel Bits or chopped caramel, about 5 ounces
1 8-ounce bag Mini Oreos (or chopped Oreos), some reserved for top
Preheat oven to 350-degrees. Line a 9x13 pan with foil and apply nonstick spray or butter.
Combine first three ingredients in a large bowl. Add egg and milk. Fold in the chocolate chips, caramel pieces, and Mini Oreos.
Pour into prepared baking pan. Add the reserved Oreos on top. Bake for 20 minutes, or it until passes the toothpick test.
Allow to set for at least 30 minutes before cutting into squares.
OM NOM NOM!
June 12, 2016
Sunday Quote loves air conditioning
“When writing a novel, that’s pretty much entirely what life turns into: ‘House burned down. Car stolen. Cat exploded. Did 1500 easy words, so all in all it was a pretty good day.”
~Neil Gaiman
June 9, 2016
B&N Gives Breath of Earth Some Love, And Other News
Breath of Earth is out in about two and a half months, and it’s time for the buzz to really kick in. Publishers Weekly recently said nice things, and now Barnes & Noble’s SFF Blog is chiming in:
Her latest novel, Breath of Earth, out later this summer, takes place in an alternate San Francisco in which geomancers keep the San Andreas faultline in check—and institutional sexism and racism keep Ingrid Carmichael from achieving her full magical potential. Cato weaves a compelling tapestry of clashing cultural values, bringing much-needed diversity to the genre.
Read the whole list of books they loved in May–lots of great titles on there!
My Clockwork Dagger story Final Flight also garnered some love over at Reading Reality. Yay!
The big Elevengeddon signing event at Poisoned Pen was a smashing success last week. They did a wonderful write-up with loads of pictures.
I have a new poem out: “A Sip of Starlight” at NewMyths.com.
One of the big local papers, the Phoenix New Times, included me on their 2016 list of 100 Creatives in Phoenix.
I was also interviewed over at SFF World about the Decision Points anthology along with Mike Resnick and Kate Corcino.
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June 8, 2016
Bready or Not: Churro Waffles
This reprinted Holy Taco Church recipe produces waffles that are sweet, fluffy, decadent, and not the slightest bit healthy. CHURRO WAFFLES, people. These are hardcore churro.
This recipe is amazingly easy. As typed up below, it makes three big waffles in your waffle iron. Double or triple to feed a crowd or stash extras to freeze. You won’t need extra pats of butter on top, and you’ll probably need just a minimal amount of maple syrup, dulce de leche, or chocolate sauce. Heck, even dip these in something like Nutella.
Be crazy. Be churro-y. Dip your whole day in cinnamon and sugar.
First posted at the Holy Taco Church; modified from Chica Chocolatina.
Bready or Not: Churro Waffles
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These hardcore churro waffles are fluffy, decadent, and coated with butter, cinnamon, and sugar. You likely won’t need to add much (or any) extra butter or maple syrup. You also might need to wear sweatpants today.
1 cup of all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 tablespoon white sugar
2 shakes cinnamon
1 egg
3/4 cup milk (almond milk works)
3 Tb butter, melted
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
Topping:
1/2 cup white sugar
1 Tb cinnamon
1/4 cup melted butter
In a large bowl, mix together flour, salt, baking powder, sugar, and cinnamon. Melt the 3 tablespoons of butter so they can cool a few minutes. Preheat waffle iron.
In a separate bowl, beat the egg with the milk, melted butter and vanilla extract. Pour the milk mix into the dry ingredients until just combined.
Apply non-stick spray to the waffle maker. Use a 1/2 cup to add batter to the iron and close the lid. While the waffle cooks, melt the butter for the topping and in a separate bowl combine the cinnamon and sugar.
Remove the waffle from the iron. Brush butter all over a side, then sift or spoon the cinnamon and sugar over it. Flip over waffle and repeat. Add more batter to the waffle iron and repeat the process.
OM NOM NOM!
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June 7, 2016
Double release day: Chicken Soup and Galactic Games
This is quite a day, as I have two radically different stories out in radically different anthologies!
Galactic Games is my first time in a Baen anthology! Yay! These stories follow different sports around a central theme of the titular Galactic Games. My story is “Minor Hockey Gods of Barstow Station,” with a team of disillusioned human roller hockey players stranded on a very cold alien space station. The table of contents for this book just blows me away: George R. R. Martin, Robert Silverberg, Seanan McGuire, Mercedes Lackey… wow. I’m thrilled that editor Bryan Thomas Schmidt is letting me mingle with the big kids.
Meanwhile, my other book out today is Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Spirit of America. My story is one among 101 others, and is about my autistic son Nicholas and how we have learned how to celebrate the 4th of July in new, wonderful ways. This is one of those stories that makes me emotional because it hits me with a profound sense of homesickness. I guess the folks at Chicken Soup felt some of that vibe, too.
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