Clarissa Johal's Blog, page 53

#MeatlessMonday-Vegetarian Polenta Pie

I love polenta. Baked and topped with tomato and fresh basil--simply divine!


Here's a variation that's a bit more substantial and "dinner-like." This recipe has four layers: the polenta crust, the tomato sauce, the vegetables and the cheeses.
Everything can be adjusted according to taste, so have fun with it!


Polenta Crust:
1-1/2 cups course cornmeal1 tsp. salt
1-1/2 cups cold water
2 cups boiling water
Combine cornmeal, salt, and 1-1/2 cups cold water in a bowl.Whisk into the 2 cups of boiling water. Cook 10 minutes over low heat, stirring frequently. Remove from heat and let cool.
Oil an 9x9 glass dish. Press polenta (with a spatula) into pan to make crust. Brush with olive oil and bake at 375F for 45 minutes
While that's cooking, prepare the other layers...
Tomato Sauce:
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 onion, chopped fine
1 tsp garlic, minced
1 (15 oz) can tomato sauce
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano

Sauté onion. Add to tomato sauce and spices and simmer for 10 minutes.
Topping:
1 zucchini, sliced
1 red pepper, sliced5 large portobello mushrooms, sliced
Sun-dried tomatoesFresh basil
Sauté in 1-T olive oil

Cheeses:
Mixture of mozzarella, Parmesan and feta--according to taste. 
To assemble:
Once the polenta crust is done, spoon in the tomato sauce, add your veggies, and top with cheeses.  
Bake at 375F for another 15 minutes. Let sit for another 15 minutes before serving.
Enjoy!

Frightening Friday-Sneak Peek of THE ISLAND

Photo courtesy of GaborfromHungary via morgueFileI don't do this often, but decided to give you a sneak peek into The Island, my novel in progress. I'm only half-way through my first rough draft, but plan to be finished with it by the end of the year.









A remote island, a cursed spirit, a demon awakened...

Excerpt from THE ISLAND

The rain had stopped and fog had settled into the woods. The mournful cry of a baby threaded through the thick trees. The sound caused Elsa’s hair to stand on the back of her neck. In spite of a growing fear at what she would find, she steeled herself and made her way through the thicket.

As she approached a small clearing where the cry seemed to originate, the sound stopped. Her breath quickened and Elsa frantically scanned the area. I know it was coming from here. The area was still, blanketed with an unnatural heaviness. A branch cracked behind her and she turned with a start. Something tall and dark darted through the trees.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded muffled in the fog. Elsa’s attention snapped to the left. Another figure ducked out of sight. Elsa took one step backwards, and fled.

She tore down the path that led back to the cabin. Heavy footsteps echoed from behind, and they were catching up with her.  

Bursting through the cabin door, she slammed it shut and bolted the lock. Elsa rooted her feet to keep from running around in circles. Straining to hear, she was greeted with eerie silence. The cry started again...and it was coming from the other side of the door.

Elsa grabbed a small knife from the kitchen. “You tricked me once, you freak,” she whispered. “Not happening.”

The cry stopped.

I could crawl out the back window, she thought frantically. But where would I go? I could hide in the woods. Somehow, she knew whatever had lured her into the woods with that mournful cry, was far more adept at hiding than she was. It would find her. It? Why did I think that just now? This has to be the same guy that stole my food. 

Scratching sounded against the front door. Someone…or something, was trying to get in.

I am not going to stand here and do nothing, Elsa thought. Gripping the knife tighter, she set her jaw and pulled the curtains back.

A dark figure of a man stood twenty feet away. His head was bowed, long shaggy hair hid his face. Wearing only a loincloth, well-muscled arms hung by his sides. His palms faced away from her in an awkward manner.

Her stomach clenched.What the hell is he dressed like that for? Elsa took in the fact that his feet were bare. Had the albino’s feet been bare too? She couldn’t remember, but he had worn only a loincloth too.
“You need to leave,” Elsa said loudly. She knew he could hear her through the thin glass of the window. “This is a private island and…my boyfriend is calling the authorities right now!”

The man took a small step forward, his head still bowed. “Forgive. We only wanted to ask for your kindness.” His voice was deep and melodic.

We? Elsa nervously scanned the yard. As she did, the albino stood and stepped away from the front door. Elsa’s heart lurched. Shit! He must have been crouched there.

“We ask for your kindness,” repeated the shaggy-haired man.

“I already gave you my kindness and you stole my food," she directed at the albino. "My boyfriend is calling the authorities." Elsa tried to sound assertive as she could. “They’ll be here very soon.”

“You are alone,” called the man, sounding mildly amused.

“I am not!” she argued.

“Yes,” he said. “You are.”

Elsa shifted her weight so she could see both of them. The shaggy-haired man said something quietly. The albino immediately stepped away from the door and joined him.

The man turned his attention to Elsa again, his long, dark hair still hiding most of his face. “We do not mean to alarm.”
  Look at me, you bastard! Elsa thought. I want to be able to describe you to the police when I report you.

“Come, Thim,” the man murmured.

The pale figure he called Thim gave her a parting glance before loping after him.

Thoughtful Thursday-Work Life Balance

...of which I've been trying to juggle, as of late. My kiddos are tracked out of school this month and I've promised to stay off my computer unless they are sleeping or otherwise engaged. The writing, blogging and promoting has been relegated to the wee hours of the morning, or done late at night. It's difficult because, as a writer, work usually exceeds an 8-hour day/40-hour week. The computer is always there, the ideas are always in my head, and book promotion is never-ending. But, I intend on keeping my promise because my kiddos are more important to me than anything.


Check back tomorrow for a sneak peek of The Island, my novel in progress.

Have a great day 

#Paranormal Wednesday-Excerpt from STRUCK

The shadows hadn't been waiting.
The shadows had been invited.

After a painful breakup, Gwynneth Reese moves in with her best friend and takes a job at a retirement home. She grows especially close to one resident, who dies alone the night of a terrific storm. On the way home from paying her last respects, Gwynneth is caught in another storm and is struck by lightning. She wakes in the hospital with a vague memory of being rescued by a mysterious stranger. Following her release from the hospital, the stranger visits her at will and offers Gwynneth a gift--one that will stay the hands of death. Gwynneth is uncertain whether Julian is a savior or something more sinister... for as he shares more and more of this gift, his price becomes more and more deadly.

Excerpt:

“She’s not sleeping, Dante. She passed out, duh. Why do you have to be such an asshole? Hey there.”

Gwynneth opened her eyes. Red hair blazed against the light.

“Well, hello.” Red ponytail sat back on her heels and smiled. She would have looked like a model in any other surroundings.

The stark room was lit by florescent overhead lights and contained a single stainless steel sink and table. It was the same room Gwynneth had walked into moments ago, except she was acquainting herself with its concrete floor. A sheet had been pulled over Hannah’s body. She focused again on her attendant.

“You’ve never seen a dead body before?” Earnest blue eyes made the question less ridiculous than it sounded.

“No.”

“You can sit as long as you need to.” She patted Gwynneth on the arm. “I’ll just finish up, and then you can have your time. My name’s Poppy, by the way.” She held out her hand.

She shook it and tried to not think about where Poppy’s hand had probably been moments ago.

“This here’s Dante. He’s an asshole, but he grows on you, like most of them do.”

Gwynneth glanced up at Dante and scrambled to her feet. He scowled back at her.

“My parents were professors of Medieval Literature,” he intoned.

I’m sure they were, Gwynneth thought.

“Be nice, Dante. She didn’t say anything about your name. Honestly, you think everyone is laughing about you behind your back. And they aren’t, you know.”

Poppy picked up a make-up brush and dabbed it into a glass jar. Beige powder dusted her pink mini-dress. The dress had little white flowers scattered across the hem and looked completely out of place in the somberness of the surroundings.

Gwynneth glanced at the sheet and Poppy stopped, mid-pull.

“Do you want to wait in the hall until I’m done? I don’t mind staying later while you have your time alone, but I do need to get this make-up finished. This job is anything but nine-to-five.”

“I-I don’t want to take up your time—”

“Everyone else does. Why not?” Dante grumbled.

“He’s just grumpy because he had to stay late,” Poppy said. “People don’t die just to inconvenience you, Dante.”

“Oh yes, they do.”

“He doesn’t mean it.”

Gwynneth caught Dante’s glare. “I’ll just pay my respects while you finish up. Thank you.”

“Calm down. It’s not going to smudge, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Poppy said as she pulled the sheet back.

Hannah looked different, Gwynneth noted. Younger and…wrong. At the retirement home, she’d always had dark circles under her eyes and wore no make-up. Here, the dark circles were gone and she had on mascara, rouge, and even lipstick. “She would never have worn red,” Gwynneth murmured.

“Well, that’s what she told me earlier, but I think it looks best with her skin tone.”

“Excuse me?”

Poppy continued dusting around Mrs. Engle’s mouth and nose. “She’s been complaining for the past hour, telling me she looks like a harlot.”

Gwynneth glanced at Dante, who seemed unruffled. “But Mrs. Engel is dead.”

“They talk to her,” Dante said.

“Yes, they do,” Poppy added emphatically.

“I’ll be upstairs, finishing up the paperwork.” Dante made a show of checking his expensive-looking watch. “Let me know when you’re done.” He gave Gwynneth the evil eye.

“Right now,” Poppy continued, “I’m pretty sure Betsy’s telling me that I need to have my make-up license taken away.” She waved her make-up brush at Hannah’s face. “And don’t think that because you’re speaking in German, I don’t understand that you’re using cuss words, because I do. You don’t shock me a bit, missy.”

“Her name is Hannah.”

“What’s that now?”

“You called her Betsy? Her name is…was Hannah. Hannah Engel.”

“She says they called her Betsy when she was a child. It makes her happy.”

Gwynneth wondered if she was the butt of some sick, funeral home joke. She forced a small smile.

“So, which color, then?” Poppy wiped the red lipstick from Hannah’s mouth and pulled a plethora of other lip colors from her make-up kit. “Anything to stop your belly-aching. I may not understand German, but I know you’re upset right now. Your children want to see some color on your face. It gives them a good impression of the afterlife.”

Gwynneth’s reality was in danger of shifting ever-so-slightly, and rather than admit that even crazy people needed to work for a living, she chose to ignore Poppy’s oddball behavior. If she worked with dead people all day long, Gwynneth imagined she’d probably end up talking to them too. “Actually, Hannah never wore any make-up. She said it was too much trouble.” Once again, shock threatened to overtake her, along with the coldness of the room. She shook it off with a shudder.

“Most of them feel that way once they get checked into those retirement homes. It’s like they give up. But like I was telling Betsy,” she persisted, “the ones left behind like to see you at your best. A little blusher here, a smudge of eye shadow there… It’s all good.” She waved her make-up brush at Gwynneth. “Now, when we get an accident or murder victim in, there’s a challenge. Their face is like a puzzle.” Poppy stopped herself. “I’m sorry. I forget you’re not used to this. Okay, we’ll go with a lighter pink, then. Is that okay with you, Betsy?” She waited for a beat. “We’ve already discussed the eye shadow, and it stays,” she continued firmly. “I’ll concede with the light pink, but if I don’t do some eye shadow, your eyes are going to look flat.” Poppy pulled a brush from its cover and softened the lipstick down. “You have to stand firm with the dead, or they’ll just push you around. Last week, we got this gentleman in that was so afraid I was going to put make- up on his face that he yelled at me the whole time I massaged his arms and legs down and pumped him full of fluid. Thought I was going to make him look like a drag-queen. I was tempted, trust me. I couldn’t wait to wire his mouth shut, for all the good it did.” She snapped her make-up kit closed and turned her attention back to Gwynneth. “I think she is glad you’re here, by the way. I don’t know what she’s so upset about.” She glanced over her shoulder. “She’s paying her last respects, Betsy. It’s what people do.”

Poppy gathered her sixties-style coat and handbag and paused, as if listening to something. “Gwynneth? Right. She kept a diary, Gwynneth. Under the fifth wood plank in her room. You need to get it. Don’t give it to her children. They wouldn’t understand.” She cocked her head and winced. “Darn it. There was something else. She had to go.” Poppy dragged the ponytail elastic from her long red hair. “Anyway, have your time together. Come get me when you’re done. I’ll be upstairs. Close the door behind you so it stays cool in here.”

Stunned speechless, Gwynneth watched Poppy shut the door, leaving her alone with the body. 
***

BUY LINKS:

Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Musa Publishing

Tangled Tuesday-Five Fabulous Authors

When I'm writing, I can't read works of fiction by other writers. As odd as it probably sounds, I have to keep other styles and ideas out of my head in order to "hear" what my characters have to say. I can read mythology and non-fiction, but everything else has to go bye-bye until I come up for air. This makes for a very tall and teetering stack of books beside my bed!

I do have a list of authors whose new releases I'll buy, regardless if I'm in the throes of writing or not. Here are five authors that have recently moved from the teetering TBR stack to my bookshelf. I found them inspirational within my genre of horror and paranormal and wanted to share!

1) Simone St. James  Excellent example of gothic horror and mystery, with a hint of romance. I just finished Silence for the Dead, which I loved. I also enjoyed An Inquiry into Love and Death and The Haunting of Maddy Claire. 
2) Amanda Stevens A twisted blend of paranormal and mystery, The Graveyard Queen series is well-worth reading. Start with The Restorer, if you're interested.

3) BROM  In addition to being a talented artist, he's also a very talented story-teller. If you haven't read his books and you like horror tinged with mythology, pick up or download a copy of Krampus: The Yule Lord or The Child Thief: A Novel. BROM is excellent at creating sympathetic antagonist characters.
4) Melissa Marr I really enjoyed her paranormal novel, Graveminder and look forward to more adult novels from her. If you like faerie mythology, the young adult Wicked Lovely series is good too.
5) Neil Gaiman I would buy anything from Neil. Don't tell him that, but I would. The Ocean at the End of the Lane: A Novel was fantastic.

#MeatlessMonday-Falafels, Tzatziki and Hummus

Photo courtesy of Nikodem Nijaki 
Licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution
Spring has sprung--which makes it a perfect time for lighter recipes and outside meals. Here's a very simple Greek-inspired dinner to share around an evening campfire (if it's still chilly where you live) or at the dinner table.
There are three ways to enjoy these recipes.
1) If you haven't tried falafels before, they make a good pita stuffing topped with tzatziki and chopped tomatoes.
2) You can spread the hummus on a pita and add grilled or raw vegetables for a healthy pita sandwich.
3) The hummus and tzatziki can be enjoyed as simple dips for falafel, raw vegetables, and sliced pita bread.
Enjoy!

Falafels

2 cans garbanzo beans, drained
1 small onion, chopped
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
3-5 cloves garlic, chopped
1-1/2 T flour
1-3/4 tsp salt
2 tsp cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
1/4 tsp black pepper
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
Pinch of ground cardamom

Blend everything in food processor until course consistency, don't over-blend.Fill a skillet with vegetable oil to a depth of 1 ½ inches.
Fry about 2 tbsp of mixture per falafel

Tzatziki
(cucumber yoghurt dip)

1 quart Greek yoghurt
2-3 cloves garlic
3-T olive oil
1-T red wine vinegar
3/4 English cucumber, peeled, seeded and grated with excess water squeezed out
salt to taste

*Mix and serve

Hummus

2-cans garbanzo beans, drained
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1/3 cup tahini
1/4 cup lemon juice
2-T olive oil
1 tsp salt
2-T chopped parsley
1/2 tsp paprika

*Blend in a food processor until smooth.

Frightening Friday-The Sandman

Photo courtesy of Seemann via morgueFileThe Sandman. Most think of him as a mythical character from European folklore who sprinkles magical sand onto the eyes of children and brings good dreams. His appearance is usually that of an old man wearing a gold robe and carrying a bagful of sand. Innocuous enough, right?

But there are other creatures bearing the name Sandman--and these creatures are very different. The first has long fingers, sharp teeth and skin that is decayed and discolored, like a that of a dead person. It hides in the dark and whispers, "tik-toc, tik-toc" to its unlucky victim, putting them into a deep sleep. Once asleep, this Sandman will come out of hiding and devour the sleeping victim with its sharp teeth. It only needs to feast once per night, but will sometimes choose to kill for fun.
The other Sandman was used to scare children in the early 19th century. He would sneak into the rooms of children who wouldn't go to sleep and throw sand into their eyes, causing them to itch. When the child rubbed, their eyes would fall out on the floor in a bloody mess. The Sandman would then collect these eyes to feed to his pet bird that lived on the crest of the moon.
Sleep well, little children.

By the late 19th century, the nightmarish Sandmen had transformed from monsters, into a benign character that brought children pleasant and happy dreams. This led to the belief that there were two Sandmen, perhaps brothers. One brought good dreams, while the other had more evil intentions. In some stories, the powers of these Dream Creatures became even greater. Each person or family had their own Sandman. They could give you a dream you want, power over your own dreams, or glimpses into your future. Over the years, the folklore continues to change due to references in popular culture. It will be interesting to see what happens to the Sandman fifty years from now.

So...which Sandman will be visiting your bedroom tonight?

Thoughtful Thursday-Clowns

Photo courtesy of patriciaegreen via morgueFileHas anyone been following the news stories on random clown sightings? One was from last September and the latest was from March of this year. I would be creeped out if these clowns were welding a knife or had blood dripping from their mouths, but no. Both clown sightings were just clowns minding their own clown-business. Maybe handing out a balloon or two.
Okay yeah, a little creepy.

The first clown sighting was in Northhampton, England and apparently, it went viral. A viral clown. Ew. There were several reports of him standing on street corners, hanging out at random places, and even knocking on people's doors and offering to paint their window sills. You know, just being a general clown nuisance. They tracked down this viral clown and he denies such activity, stating the clown offering to paint window sills was a "copy cat clown."

Clowns. Can't trust them as far as you can throw them.

America has it's own clown now. Because as you know, we can't possibly be one-upped when it comes to something like this. Dressed in a satin clown suit, he was spotted standing on the street corners of New York's Staten Island. Again, sightings of this clown waving at passer-byes and grinning like an idiot went viral. New York citizens tweeted, Facebook'd and hashtag'd their way into a frenzy for the clown to unmask itself. I'm surprised pitchforks weren't involved. It turned out to be a promotion for a horror movie studio and "was just a joke."  Thank you, Fuzz on the Lens Productions for whipping Staten Island into a frenzy with your clown. As if clowns weren't attention seeking whores already.
Next clown I see gets hired to stand on a street corner to promote my books.
Viral indeed.

#Paranormal Wednesday-The Tooth Fairy

My older daughter's baby teethYou know the drill, moms and dads (no pun intended). Tooth Fairy Rules state that when a child loses a baby tooth, the child places it under their pillow. The Tooth Fairy will then visit as the child sleeps and replace the lost tooth with a small payment. I kept my kiddo's teeth and glued them in a shadow box. My girls used to think it was cool that the Tooth Fairy allowed mom to keep their teeth (due to a special agreement she had with faeries). Now, they feel mom was a bit macabre. The teeth are smiling, so I really don't see the problem.
During the Middle Ages, there were many superstitions surrounding children's teeth. In England, children were told to burn their baby teeth in order to save them from hardship in the afterlife. Children who chose not to do so, would spend eternity searching for those teeth. In the Norse Viking culture, children's teeth (and anything belonging to children) were said to bring good luck in battle. Warriors hung children's teeth on a string around their necks. In medieval Europe, it was thought that if a witch were to get hold of one of your teeth, it would give them total power over you.

The folklore surrounding an actual tooth "Fairy" didn't emerge until 1927 when, The Tooth Fairy: Three-Act Playlet for Children by Esther Watkins Arnold was published. By 1984, 74 percent of people surveyed believed the Tooth Fairy to be female, 12 percent believed the Tooth Fairy to be neither male nor female, and 8 percent believed the Tooth Fairy could be either male or female. In addition to a small payment in relation to the tooth loss ($3.70 per tooth on average) some families leave a note with the payment, praising the child for good dental habits. More children report a positive reaction to the myth even after they discover that the Tooth Fairy doesn't exist.

While we're talking Tooth Fairies....I highly recommend The Tooth Fairy by Graham Joyce. Not for children, this is a Jungian, darker take on the myth and not for the faint-at-heart. Happy reading!

Tangled Tuesday-Inked

My Pictish Wolf from The Book of Kells
 Done by Errol J Cathcart

As writers, sometimes our characters mark us in ways that go beyond the psychological. It's probably a weird, writer thing, but when you create a character, it's kind of like evoking a real person. You take something that's indiscernible, perhaps just a glimmer of thought, and bring it into focus on the page. Is it any wonder that something you create would in turn, leave you something in return?

I was watching Ink Master the other night, which I like to do while practicing my ballet. An odd combination perhaps, but that's what I end up doing. It's an interesting show because you see the artistic work that goes into creating a tattoo. (You see a lot of fighting between the artists too, but I swear that's not why I tune in!) I'd love to be a guest "canvas" but would probably be a tattoo artist's nightmare. Some of the "canvases" are talked into things they hadn't planned on, and there's no way I'd agree to that. I put a lot of thought into my tattoos and ponder on them for months before making a commitment. To date, I have three--one on my ankle, one on the back of my neck, and one on my belly.

Right before BETWEEN was released, I got a Pictish wolf (above) tattooed on the back of my neck. You can read about why here (in the last two paragraphs), if you're interested. The warrior I dreamed of has gone into my character file, where he will make an appearance in a future novel, as he's already marked me in a physical kind of way.
The Pictish wolf is from The Book of Kells. It accompanies a poem about a warrior who has lost everything/everyone he loves. The warrior questions his life, faith, and dedication to his king and country as he wanders alone. The poem is a very sad one and stuck with me. Aside from my dream which led me to get the wolf, the poem seemed to represent Cronan from my paranormal book BETWEEN.  So, in a roundabout kind of way, I have Cronan at my back. If you've read BETWEEN, that may sound a little unsettling!

Image via Art Imagery via The Book of Kells,
7th Century Scotland/Ireland This is a companion piece to my wolf. I haven't gotten this one yet, but it represents Lucas, another one of my characters from BETWEEN. (I'll definitely omit the flower) I haven't decided where it will go.

*The Book of Kells states this is a lion, though it's listed as a hound on most websites, for some reason. I'm not particularly religious, but I've become obsessed with the artwork in this book.

As far as my latest novel, STRUCK, I've thought about getting a tattoo to represent Julian, one of the central characters. The only thing I could come up with would be a Lichtenberg figure on my back. Not only would this be quite an involved tattoo, but I'm not sure I'd want it! (The caused-by-lightning figure "brands" the character Gwynneth, in a "dark spirit attachment" kind of way.)
Julian may have to wait to leave his mark. In a physical way, anyways... [image error]