Cracked Cauldron Spillings

Now that Manager's fired the old attorney who was dragging her down and costing her time and aggravation, we can move forward again.

Yesterday's visit to the Women's Business Center wasn't very helpful, and I'm beginning to wonder if it is profitable for us to continue to use them.

When Manager goes in to ask specific questions, such as when she took in her completed business plan and pro forma sheets and cash flow projection forms to see if they would pass the SBA and bank criteria, she spent most of her time instead talking about the cookies she brought.

True, the cookies sparked interest on a customer level, but it didn't move the business forward towards opening. And that's what we need now, that pat on the back that propels one forward, not the one that has the friendly handshake that holds us in place.

This weekend, we'll work some more on the meat pies we plan to sell as a "meal" component. I'm thinking Italian timballettos: a puff pastry filled with a blend of pasta, meat sauce, and mozzarella, fresh basil, and just a touch of cinnamon for an intriguing mystery flavor.

We made chicken aloutte last night, and I would have taken a picture, but they were all quickly eaten - even before I got one.

I'm almost afraid to offer these in the Cracked Cauldron because of the speed with which they disappear. Could we possibly be able to make them fast enough?

I know, they are simple - phyllo dough rolled burrito style around a filling of provolone cheese, a seasoned half a chicken breast, fresh herbs (I used curry plant, rosemary, basil, and sage last night), and sprinkles of mozzarella, cheddar, swiss, asiago, and monterey jack. The logs were brushed with butter and sprinkled with sesame seeds, then baked until perfect.

And they were all eaten before they had a chance to cool.

How do people know when we plan to test a recipe? That's what I want to know.

How do they know and show up at the house to devour the test samples when we don't even know when or what we'll make?

I'm going to have to exercise a draconian control and wrest the food from them long enough to photograph it. Then, once recorded, they can munch away.