It’s time for a new recipe! How about Chicken Posole with author Aline K. Field? Enjoy:
I got this recipe from a Cooking Light magazine several years ago. This version of Posole is lighter in color, fat and calories than regular Posole. My family loves it. In January, when three of us were sick with the bug going around, I made several pots of it. I love that it combines some of my favorite flavors from Mexican cuisine.
Probably the hardest part of the prep is “undressing” the tomatillos, otherwise, it’s just another pot of soup!
1 pound tomatillos
6 cups of chicken stock
2 cups of chopped onions
3 pounds of chicken breast halves, skinned
4 garlic cloves, chopped
2 jalapeno peppers seeded and quartered
1 (30 ounce) can white hominy, drained
salt to taste
- Remove the husks from the tomatillos and cook them in boiling water a few minutes until softened, drain, and process them in a blender until liquefied.
- Combine all of the other ingredients in a stockpot, bring to a boil and then reduce heat and simmer until chicken is cooked. The recipe says that will take 35 minutes, but I usually let it go longer.
- Remove chicken, bone, shred and return to the pot. Add the tomatillos and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes until heated.
Serve with chopped fresh cilantro, sour cream and lime wedges for added flavor.
Officially, the recipe says this yields 8 (1½ cup) servings at 233 calories each.
Blurb: Bullets, blades, and incendiary bombs—Major Steven Beauverde, the latest Earl of Hackwell, belongs in that world, and is determined to get back to it. His brother’s murder has forced Steven out of the army and into the title, but he has no interest in being the Earl, and worse, no idea how to salvage the depleted estate. A rumor that his brother had a son by a woman who may be a) the murderer, and b) his brother’s wife, sets Steven on a mission to find her, the boy, and—Steven ardently hopes—proof of a secret marriage that will set Steven free.
Annabelle Harris is a country heiress and a confirmed spinster resettled in London to find her sister, the mistress to the Earl of Hackwell. While she searches, she fills her home with orphans and street urchins. When the Earl is murdered, Annabelle’s sister thrusts the Earl’s illegitimate child into Annabelle’s care and disappears. Now, with suspicion pointing at her sister, Annabelle has begun a new quest—to find her sibling and clear her name.
When their paths converge, the reluctant Earl and the determined spinster find themselves rethinking their goals, and stepping up to fight back when the real murderer shows up.
Excerpt: The rare afternoon sun lay low on the horizon when Annabelle rounded the corner to her street. The coach would be ready on the morrow. Providing the weather held fair and they left before dawn, they could make it to Brockton Manor in one very long day.
Mr. Gleason had not been able to see her, but he left word with his clerk that Annabelle should come for dinner that same night with him and Mrs. Gleason, and he would send a hackney to transport her.
Mary would, no doubt, not be happy, having had her fill of keeping the boys all afternoon while she tried to ready meals for Mr. Lewis and pack. Getting the boys caught up on their lessons and finishing the packing would be a welcome distraction from dark thoughts.
As she approached the house in the dim twilight, she saw a man on her front step, as though those dark thoughts had taken bodily form. Her front door opened, and after a moment, he stepped in.
Her pulse quickened. He was dark-haired under his tall hat. She ran the rest of the way.
When Steven knocked on Miss Harris’s door, he was greeted by a juvenile doorman, the alleged thief from two days ago.
And this little doorman was armed with a pistol.
Steven raised both hands. “I surrender. Take my purse.”
The boy frowned. “There’s no powder in ‘it.”
“Well thank goodness.” Up close, he could see the boy’s eyes were a deep blue, eerily like his own, or his half-brother’s. Or his father’s. “I am relieved you are not waving a loaded weapon at me. I’m here to see Miss Harris. May I come in?”
That blue gaze swept over him. “She’s not in.”
“You know me,” Steven said. “I rescued you two mornings ago. May I come in and wait for her?”
The boy shrugged and let Steven into the narrow entry hall.
To his left, the younger boy stood in a doorway, balancing a second pistol in his two chubby hands. He was equally fair-haired and blue-eyed.
“Out of the way, Robby.” The big one nudged ahead none too gently.
Steven followed them into a drawing room, well-warmed by a glowing fire.
“’Ave a seat.” The boy pointed to an empty spot on a settee spread with soldiers, and dropped behind a chair to resume play.
“Staging a battle, are we?” Steven surveyed the deployment of troops. Obviously this pile-up was either the day-before sousing or the day-after boneyard, definitely not a battle configuration. Something golden twinkled through the ranks, and he pulled two bodies away.
His heart thumped wildly. The Hackwell lion blinked at him from its nest of gold in the crown of a ring. He’d studied that ring on his father’s finger the half-dozen times he’d been allowed in the noble presence.
The missing signet. He covered it with his hand.
The door crashed open and Steven raised his head. Astonished grey eyes flashed from Steven to the toddler, and he would swear, penetrated through the chair to the boy on the other side.
Steven shot to his feet, quickly pocketing the ring.
“A pistol, Mum.” The little one’s chirping matched the way he hopped from foot to foot.
Robby was younger than he looked. Three, or possibly even a very large two.
Miss Harris bent gracefully and took the gun. “I see. It is not a toy, my love. You may never play with it.” She dropped a kiss on the little boy’s head and straightened. “Thomas.”
Awareness buzzed through Steven. Both for the woman and her use of his brother’s name. Her cheeks flamed and her eyes also, with anger and perhaps fear, whether about the pistols or his presence he wasn’t sure.
“Let’s have it then, Thomas.” Steven disarmed the boy, then helped him up by his elbow. He passed the pistol to Miss Harris.
She thanked him ever so politely, her eyes riveted on the boy.
Thomas shifted. Steven realized, while Robby was big for his age, Thomas was small for his. He was older than he appeared. Perhaps nine. It was mathematically possible for him to be Thomas’s, though Thomas had only been Earl for seven years, and he’d heard no rumblings of other by-blows.
And, if the boy was nine, Thomas had been out of the country during his conception. The thought was a bit disappointing.
“Thomas,” she said, packing the soft-spoken word with a punch of guilt.
The boy tucked his chin. His eyes were scrunched and cloudy. “I checked, Mum. They wasn’t—wer-en’t—loaded.”
Both boys called her mum. For mother? Or as a corruption of ma’am?
The guns trembled in her hands. She set them on a side table, pulled a bell cord, and came back to stand in front of Steven and Thomas.
“Thomas, you and I will talk later.”
There was a promise of love mixed with the threat. He almost shifted his feet in time with the boy’s, feeling his pain and something like . . . envy?
“I suppose you’ll leave me,” Thomas said gruffly. “Or send me somewheres.”
Her trembling had settled. She didn’t move a muscle. She didn’t flinch. And yet, the boy had seen the bared heartstring and plucked it.
She loved this child. Like any intelligent male of the species, the boy saw it, and so did Steven.
BIO: Award winning author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature, but she found her true passion in reading and writing romance. Though her roots are in the Midwest, after six very, very, very cold years in Chicago, she moved to Southern California and hasn’t looked back. She shares a midcentury home with her husband and a blue-eyed cat who conned his way in for dinner one day and decided the food was too good to leave.
She is the author of the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner in the novella category, Rosalyn’s Ring, a Regency novella; and the novel-length sequel Bella’s Band, both Soul Mate Publishing releases.
Buy Link: Amazon
Visit her at: http://alinakfield.com/