5 second rule

Alaska (1)

Alex Davis, age 21 months.

Fleet docked at the marina.

Million Dollar Bridge.

Copper River Salmon Burger.
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Last week I traveled 11 hours, hopping three consecutive flights to reach Cordova, Alaska, a vibrant fishing community southeast of Anchorage.  Over several days, I drank in everything I could about the region, a place where the people work hard but don't complain, where the summer light glows well past midnight, and where the wild Copper River salmon, in all their unique biological glory, fight upstream waters to return home, spawn, and complete their life cycle.

I'll be writing quite a bit about the trip -- about the salmon, the fishermen, the state's sustainability efforts, and the surprisingly diverse community of Cordova.

Some posts will go live here, and some I'll be contributing to other sites where I can reach an even broader audience. Stay tuned.

And watch... [with gratitude to Sam Fromartz of Chews Wise for inspiring me to make a slide show]:

Albondigas

 

Please don't make me eat a tofu dog. 

Or vegan cheese.

Look, I eat far less meat than I used to.  I grew up in a neighborhood with a corner deli, so a roast beef on rye or a warm, drippy Reuben were never far from my dinner plate.  I didn't give them much thought; I just wiped the grease from my mouth and took another bite.

But things have changed, and though I still eat meat, I eat less.  Less quantity, and less frequently.

So when my colleague Tara Mataraza Desmond sent me a copy of Almost Meatless (Ten Speed Press, 2009), the new book she co-authored with Joy Manning, I was like, okay, of course, this makes perfect sense.  It's a book for omnivores with recipes that use meat, but less of it.  It's a book, obviously, for me.

Take the albondigas (big photo), which I made a few nights ago. They’re smoky, chipotle-spiked lamb meatballs, but the lamb is mixed with raw steel-cut oats (!). As a result, you only need ½ pound of lamb for four people. 

And before you go toss yourself off a bridge, I promise that these do NOT taste like oatmealy meatballs.  They taste like lamb meatballs, because they are.  It's just that as the oats soften, they take on the flavor, texture, and character of the meat so you can get away with using a whole lot less. 

Have some watermelon on hand because they're spicy.

The book offers recipes for fish, eggs, poultry, beef, and pork, too, and they all follow the same philosophy of pairing smaller quantities of animal protein with unique, bold flavors, grains, and vegetables. 

Want more recipes?  How much are you willing to pay? 

How about ZERO DOLLARS? 

I jest, but just a little: today, a number of food writers and bloggers are linking up to our favorite recipes from the book and posting them all at a hub on Tara's and Joy's sites.  Click through to access recipes from the book and discover new food blogs, too.

Just try these albondigas first. 

p.s. Among the fellow participants is regular 5SR commenter Charmian of Christie's Corner.  Check out her post here.

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Recipe for Albondigas

From Almost Meatless (2009) by Joy Manning and Tara Mataraza Desmond  (Reprinted with permission from Ten Speed Press and the authors)

[from csr: Using a whole chipotle, even without the seeds, made these almost too spicy for my kids.  If serving younger palates, you'll want to use less chipotle.  Plain yogurt makes a perfect, and cooling, accompaniment, as does the cilantro-lime rice suggested in the recipe.]

Serves 4 to 6

1/2 cup steel-cut oatmeal (dry)

1/2 cup loosely packed fresh cilantro leaves, chopped, plus more for garnish

4 cloves garlic, minced (about 2 tablespoons, divided)

1 chipotle in adobo sauce, seeded and chopped into a paste

4 teaspoons ground cumin, divided

2 teaspoons ground coriander, divided

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1/2 pound ground lamb

2 teaspoons olive oil

1 small onion, cut into 1/4-inch dice (about 1 cup)

1 (28-ounce) can crushed tomatoes

1 cup water

Juice of 1 lime

Mix together the oatmeal, cilantro, half the garlic, the chipotle, 2 teaspoons of the cumin, 1 teaspoon of the coriander, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper in a bowl.  Gently work the lamb into the mixture, distributing it evenly.  Form balls out of tablespoon-size scoops of the mixture and set aside.

Heat the oil in a Dutch oven or large pot over medium-high heat.  Add the onion and saute for 5 minutes.  Stir in the remaining garlic, cumin, and coriander, cooking for an additional 30 seconds.  Add the tomatoes and water and stir to combine.  Bring the sauce to a simmer and add the meatballs.  Simmer partially covered for 45 minutes.  Season the sauce with salt and pepper to taste, squeeze the lime juice over the top, and serve with extra chopped cilantro.

printable pdf

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Letter

Dear Barack and Michelle,

How are you guys doing?  Busy, I bet.  Sorry we kept missing each other.  I know, it's weird, right?  A week before we went to London, you were there, and now a month after we leave Martha's Vineyard, you arrive for vacation.  Next year we'll have to coordinate so we can hang out.

Anyway, the real reason I'm writing is to pass along a dining tip.  I know you'll be staying at a $20 million farm in Chilmark, which is just a few miles from Aquinnah, the sleepy town where we rented a (less expensive) house.  Every Wednesday night, the Orange Peel Bakery in Aquinnah does this amazing thing: it hosts a community pizza night for anyone who wants to stop by.  All you do is bring some toppings to share (anything goes... we brought grilled corn and leftover lobster), put your $10 donation into a box, and stand in line at the little tables.  The bakery's employees stretch rounds of dough, cover them with sauce and cheese, and hand them over on a pizza peel where you can dress them as you like from the communal topping table.  My son Andrew put some pepperoni and a fresh cherry on his:

 

(I bet Malia and Sasha would like that one.  Andrew totally would have shared it with them, too.  )

Anyway, then Julie Vanderhoop, the bakery's owner, thrusts the pizzas into her wood-fired oven.  They emerge a few minutes later, blistered and crisp.  Everyone stands around chitchatting and shooting the breeze.  It's all very neighborly and casual. 

I never would have known about this little place, but I read about it in an article by Geraldine Brooks in Edible Vineyard, one of the Edible Communities publications.  Michelle, this magazine is completely up your alley.  You should seriously check it out given your interest in local foods.

Okay, I'll let you go.  Enjoy your trip, and don't forget about Wednesday nights.  Remember your toppings, too; you don't want to piss people off by showing up empty-handed.

~Cheryl

Sip/Soup

 
Quiz time: do you recognize these jars?  Do you?  Do you?

Yes, they're the empty glass yogurt jars I squirreled home in my suitcase after my trip to Paris.   They fared relatively well on the journey, though one of them did smell like yogurty feet when I finally unpacked it. My advice?  Use soap if you ever wash trash for a transatlantic journey. 

(Now I feel bad that I used the phrase 'yogurty feet' in a post that's, at heart, a celebration of Mark and Bruce's simple but sophisticated spiced plum soup.  Note to self: send note of apology to M&B.)

So, yes, the soup.  If you make this soup for your next dinner party, your guests will move in and never leave.  They will mop your floors, polish your fixtures, and install crown-molding in your living room.  They will walk your dog.  They will wax your car.  They will do anything to continue sipping this soup, which starts out perfectly lovely but somehow develops even more flavor with each passing day.  Do I exaggerate?  I do not.

The recipe comes from Cooking-Know How (Wiley, 2009) by Mark Scarbrough and Bruce Weinstein, which I've blogged about before here.  It's a cold, creamy summer soup, one that's open to infinite variations.  Mark posted this blackberry version last month on his blog Real Food Has Curves. 

If cold soups aren't your thing, no worries.  Call it a wine-infused smoothie and sip away.

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Recipe for Spiced Plum Soup

Adapted from Bruce Weinstein and Mark Scarbrough's Cooking Know-How (Wiley, 2009).  Used with permission of the authors.

Makes up to 12 small first course servings

4 cups (1 quart) cold water

2 pounds plums, halved and pitted

One 4-inch cinnamon stick

4 whole cloves

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup plain unsweetened yogurt

1/2 cup red wine

Salt to taste

In a large saucepan, bring the water, fruit, cinnamon stick, cloves, and nutmeg to a boil over high heat.  Reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer slowly until the fruit is meltingly tender, about 10 to 25 minutes.  (-csr: mine took 10.)

Remove and discard the cinnamon stick and whole cloves.  Transfer any plum halves (csr: mine has turned to mush, but it made no difference) to a bowl, turn the heat to medium high, and boil the remaining liquid in the pan, uncovered, until its volume has reduced by half, stirring occasionally.

Puree the plums, the reduced cooking liquid, the sugar, yogurt, and wine in a large blender or food processor fitted with the chopping blade, working in batches if necessary.  (csr: I did it in batches with a stick blender.)

Transfer the soup to a large, nonreactive (csr: glass); seal and refrigerate for at least 4 hours or up to 3 days.  Season with salt to taste just before serving.

printable pdf

Six

I'm going to steal a page from Haagen-Dazs Five. Ready?  Here's my Tortilla Pizza Six.

If you've got farmers' market tomatoes (1), and high-fat cheese (2);  whole wheat tortillas (3), and good olive oil (4); shards of cracked pepper (5), and tufts of young herbs (6)... you've got lunch.

Now don't go thinking you can throw any load of crap on these pizzas and they'll qualify, cause they won't.  Keep your floury pre-shredded cheese to yourself.

The tomatoes should be blood-red and ripe; the cheese lusty and voluptuous; the tortillas made without gums (seriously); the olive oil extra-virgin; the pepper freshly ground; the herbs dewy and pert.

1-2-3-4-5-6.

Six.

It's ridiculously cooler than five.

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Recipe for Fresh Tortilla Pizzas

This is a five-minute, six-ingredient summer lunch.  If you don't have in season tomatoes or a creamy, high-fat cheese (try this creme-fraiche enriched Supreme or a buffalo mozzarella), then don't bother.

Makes 2 small pizzas (serves 1 or 2)

2 whole wheat flour tortillas

Extra-virgin olive oil

4 to 8 slices ripe summer tomatoes, depending on size and variety

Fresh cheese

Freshly cracked black pepper

1 to 2 sprigs fresh oregano or a few small basil leaves

Place the tortillas side by side on a rimmed baking sheet and brush with a thin layer of olive oil.  Arrange the tomatoes and chunks of cheese, slightly overlapping, next to each other.  Slip under the broiler for about 2 minutes, or until the edges of the tortillas darken and the cheese melts and begins to bubble.

Drizzle with additional olive oil, if desired, and sprinkle with fresh black pepper.  Top with oregano leaves or torn basil, and serve at once.

printable pdf

Eggplant

Some flavor combinations are like an old pair of jeans, comfortable and reliable.  You turn to them again and again, and again, and finally, the 47th time you've turned to them, you're like, okay, I think the ass in these jeans is starting to sag and it's really time to buy a new pair.

Like eggplant and garlic.  And eggplant and garlic.  And eggplant and... you get the picture.  I honestly don't think I've ever cooked eggplant without garlic, and it's not like the seams of my life were slowly untangling, but damn if I wasn't ready to make an eggplant dish that, for once, had a non-Mediterranean flavor profile.

Monica Bhide's entire book Modern Spice: Inspired Indian Flavors for the Contemporary Kitchen (Simon & Schuster, 2009) is like a brand new, but instantly comfortable, pair of jeans with no ass-sagging downside. It has both solved my eggplant crisis and illuminated new crises I didn't even know I had, and solved those, too.  When I made the pan-seared eggplant with ginger and honey (pictured above), I knew, KNEW, that I was going to eat the entire 4-person side dish in about 8 minutes.  The recipe was ridiculously easy, the flavors vibrant and unique. 

I've also made Bhide's pomegranate shrimp, another quick dish that fuses two seemingly disparate flavors into a cohesive whole.  You'll want to locate your nearest Middle Eastern or Indian market and invest in a $4 bottle of pomegranate molasses for both these recipes.

Bhide is also the author of The Everything Indian Cookbook (Adams Media, 2004) and has written for the New York Times, the Chicago Tribune, and the Washington Post.  Check out her blog, A Life of Spice, here. 

And really, if your jeans are saggy or, god forbid, low-rise (that ship has sailed), it's seriously time for a new pair. 

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Recipe for Monica Bhide's Pan Seared Eggplant with Ginger and Honey

(From Modern Spice, reprinted with permission from Simon & Schuster)

6 tablespoons vegetable oil (more if needed)

1 medium eggplant, sliced into 3/4"-thick rounds

Table salt

3 tablespoons Ginger and Honey Marinade (recipe follows*), warmed

Heat the oil in a large lidded skillet over medium-low heat.  When the oil begins to shimmer, add the eggplant and cook, covered, 12 to 14 minutes on each side, until soft and well-browned.  If all the eggplant slices don't fit into the skillet, do this using two skillets simultaneously.  This way, the first batch won't get cold while you are making the second batch.

Remove from the pan and drain on paper towels.  Season with salt. 

Place on a serving platter and drizzle with the marinade.  Serve immediately.

Ginger and Honey Marinade*

1 tablespoon grated peeled fresh ginger 

1/4 cup warmed liquid honey

1 teaspoon red chile flakes

1 tablespoon pomegranate molasses

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1/2 teaspoon grated lime or lemon zest

Combine all the ingredients in a bowl and stir thoroughly to combine.  Transfer to a covered, nonreactive container, and refrigerate until needed.

printable pdf

Spaghetti

The secret to reinvigorating leftover spaghetti, I've found, is to incorporate one new element.  Just one.  Whether it's a handful of olives, a sprinkling of toasted nuts, or even a touch of cream, the new item distracts the diner from the fact that you're serving yesterday's food.

One morning while our guests slept upstairs, I spent about 5 minutes (no lie) prepping some garlicky roasted tomatoes.  Into the oven they went, and 45 minutes later they were done.  Once they cooled, I nestled them in a jar, topped them with olive oil, and pushed them to the back of the fridge.  I didn't know what I'd use them for, but I sensed they'd come in handy as a stop-gap measure should a dinner emergency arise.

Two nights later it happened.  Half the household got involved in a four-hour Monopoly game, and by the time we called for pizza the one place on our part of the island had stopped delivering.  I crouched in front of the fridge and eased out all the leftovers -- sausages, cold spaghetti, asparagus, a half-nub of cheese. 

Wait.  What's that?

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Recipe for Leftover Spaghetti with sausage, asparagus, and garlic-roasted tomatoes

Having roasted tomatoes on hand brightens up any cold pasta, even spaghetti, which is notoriously difficult to make appealing after it has been in the fridge for a few days.  This is more of a concept than a strict recipe, because you can substitute any leftover meats, cheeses, or vegetables you happen to have lying around.  Got leftover pesto?  Toss it in.

Olive oil

Handful of skinny asparagus spears

Leftover cooked sausage, sliced into rounds

Cold spaghetti

Garlic roasted tomatoes, in olive oil, sliced thinly (my printable recipe here)

Nub of goat cheese or feta

Olives, toasted nuts, capers, pesto sauce (all optional)

Heat a tablespoon or two of olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat.  Saute the asparagus until crisp-tender.  Toss in the sausage and (re)-brown.  Add the spaghetti, the tomatoes, and the oil in which the tomatoes were packed, and toss with tongs until the pasta is very hot.  (Feel free to cover the skillet briefly.  Add a spoonful or two of water to prevent sticking)  Break the cheese into little buttons and sprinkle on the hot pasta, tossing once or twice more so it softens and begins to melt.  Divide among serving bowls, and add optional garnishes, if desired. Hit one final time with olive oil for a last hurrah.

printable pdf

Wit

 
The funniest people are those who keep a straight face when they deadpan their lines. 

Part of the reason I never embraced Seinfeld as much as the rest of the world is because every time Jerry said something funny, the corners of his mouth twitched.  Like he couldn't control himself.  He was essentially announcing to the audience: "I'm so funny I even crack myself up." 

This drove me crazy.  

Heather, on the other hand, never changes inflection when she makes a joke.  It takes a few minutes to peel back the layers of her wit, because her humor is multifaceted and you're never quite sure if she's kidding.  I love teasing apart her comments on the blog, too.  She has been a regular here since the beginning, and if you go back through the archives and read her stuff, you'll see what I mean.

Heather also makes a mean Red Velvet Cake.  It's one of her specialties.  Other specialties include children's literature (she holds a Master's), mothering (she's got 4 kids), and possessing a palate eerily similar to my husband's.  You should see the two of them discuss Dr. Pepper and barbecue.  It's twisted.

So when Heather came to visit us on July 4, there was no question about what I'd make her bring: ingredients.  She even brought blueberries, because although Red Velvet Cake has nothing whatsoever to do with July 4, there's no way we weren't going to make it patriotic.  I mean, the cake's colors are already two-thirds of the way there.

We all loved it.

Especially her daughter.

 

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Recipe for Heather's Red Velvet Cake

This recipe was passed on to Heather by her mother.  It uses a very unusual frosting, which starts out looking like glue but eventually transforms into a lovely pouf of fluffiness.  Heather says you can also make it with cream cheese frosting, which, I must admit, sounds even more tempting.  Finally, the alarming amount of red food coloring called for is not a typo.  This is a special occasion cake. It's also the only time you're going to see me call for this particular ingredient in this particular quantity on this particular blog.  Don't skimp, or your cake will not achieve the requisite red color.

Makes 1 two-layer cake

1-1/2 cups sugar

1/2 cup butter

2 eggs

2 cups flour

1 tablespoon cocoa powder

1 cup buttermilk (or 1 teaspoon vinegar mixed with 1 cup milk)

2 ounces red food coloring

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 teaspoon baking soda stirred into 1 tablespoon vinegar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Grease two 9" round cake pans, line them with parchment, grease them again and dust them with flour.

Cream the butter and sugar.  Add the eggs and beat well.  Sift the flour and cocoa three times and add them, alternating with the buttermilk, to the butter-sugar mixture.  Add the food coloring and the vanilla.  Fold in the baking soda/vinegar combo but do not beat.  Pour into cake pans and bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean.

Frosting:

1 cup milk

1/4 cup flour

1 cup butter

1 cup powdered sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla

Blueberries, red hots, or shredded coconut, for topping

Mix milk and flour in a medium saucepan until blended.  Cook slowly until really thick, stirring constantly.  (It will look like glue, especially as it cools.)  Cool completely.

Cream butter and sugar until fluffy, then add to the flour/milk mixture and beat well.  Beat in vanilla.  The frosting should look like whipped cream when it's ready.

Frost the cake layers, then stack and frost the sides.  Top, if desired, with blueberries, red hots, or shredded coconut.

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Celebrity

Where do I begin?  With the cocoa-dusted banana bread, the chocolate crepes, or the Saturday Night Live celebrity walking a goat on the beach? 

I'll begin with Jen.  You know how there are girlfriends who will talk smack to you, but you secretly love it?  That's Jen.  She's got a dazzling smile, a vivacious personality, and the ability to discuss anything, and I do mean anything, without blushing.  I feel more alive when she's in the room.

Before she arrived, I made her this banana bread.  When she tasted it, she said, "Why didn't you put chocolate chips in it?" and I was like, why didn't I put chocolate chips in it?  So feel free to, though I also like the subtlety of the cocoa flavor on its own. 

The next day Debbie arrived.  Debbie is a paragon of sincerity and Midwestern charm.  She's beautiful and smart.  Somehow I've managed not to offend her with my dry, biting asides in the 12 years we've known each other and she continues to tolerate me and my residual New Yorkness.  She also agreed to hold up the chocolate crepes I made even though I told her I was going to fuzz out her face. 

So here's the second half of the story, which I'm sharing somewhat sheepishly.  Debbie, Jen, and I are on the beach and all of a sudden a goat starts walking along the surf.  So what do I do?  Grab my camera and start snapping photos of this ridiculous out-of-place animal.  Click, click, click.  I'm not paying attention to the people with the goat, but eventually I do look up.

It's Seth Meyers with 2 friends.  I've got my camera around my neck and I look at him like, okay, I swear I was just talking pictures of the goat and I promise I will not sell these photos to US Weekly or the National Enquirer because really, I am a Very Good Person and that would be Beneath Me.  (I did get one with him in the frame, though.  But I'm not posting it here.  Even if you beg me.)

I wish I'd had some cocoa banana bread with me.  I so would have offered him a piece.

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Recipe for Cocoa-Dusted Banana Bread

This recipe is an adaptation of the cherry banana morning cake I posted a few weeks ago, though it's far simpler because I didn't use any electric gizmos.  I also added cocoa to both the batter and the topping and used a bit of whole milk yogurt for moistness.  Feel free to fold in a handful of chocolate chips at the end for a more pronounced chocolaty flavor.

Makes one  8" square cake

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 cup cocoa powder, sifted

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

4 ounces (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled

3/4 cup granulated sugar

1 large egg, lightly beaten

2 very ripe and speckled bananas, mashed

3 tablespoons whole milk yogurt

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Handful of chocolate chips, optional

1 tablespoon cocoa powder + 1 teaspoon powdered sugar, for sifting over the cooled cake

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Coat an 8 x 8 x 2" square cake pan with nonstick spray and fit the bottom with parchment paper.

In a medium bowl, whisk the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.  Set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, beat the melted butter and granulated sugar with a wooden spoon until well-combined.  Add the egg and beat until incorporated.  Mix in the mashed banana, yogurt, and vanilla, beating well until you have a fairly uniform batter. Add the flour mixture and beat just until the dry ingredients are absorbed.  (Don't neglect the bottom of the bowl.)  If using chocolate chips, fold them in now.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top.

Bake in the center of the oven for 30 to 35 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean.  Set the pan on a wire rack to cool for 10 minutes, then carefully unmold to continue cooling.  When completely cool, spoon the remaining cocoa into a small sifter along with the powdered sugar and sift over the cake.  Cut into generous squares and serve.

printable pdf

Cupcakes

 

Do you need an electric mixer to make cupcakes? 

Of course not. 

And yet, once you own a KitchenAid or its equivalent, beating a cake batter by hand seems positively silly.  It's like starting a fire with a magnifying glass when there's a box of matches in the drawer.

So this vacation has been a throwback for me.  In a good way.  Without all my appliances and crazy tools, I've learned the art of simplifying.  Of beating a batter with a wooden spoon, and some muscle.  Of spreading icing with a table knife, in imperfect swirls.  Of buying 79 cent candles in the town's one general store. 

A few lumps in the frosting, it turns out, offend no one. 

And a birthday's just as sweet -- sweeter, maybe -- when some elbow grease slips its way into the cupcakes.

 

                              

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Recipe for Simplest One Bowl Chocolate Cupcakes

This recipe is old school.  In other words, you don't need an electric mixer.  In fact, I used the same bowl for the batter as I did for the icing; I just gave it a quick wash in between.  Be aware that this recipe yields 12 relatively small cupcakes.  If this concerns you, fill only 9 or 10 of the cupcake liners and make them a touch larger.  (You'll need to increase the bake time by 2 or 3 minutes.)

Makes 12 small cupcakes

Batter:

3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

3-1/2 tablespoons cocoa powder, sifted

Scant 3/4 cup granulated sugar

1-1/2 teaspoons baking powder

Pinch salt

Scant 3 tablespoons butter

1/2 cup milk

1 egg

1/4 teaspoon vanilla

Icing:

2-1/2 cups confectioners' sugar, sifted

1/4 cup plus 3 tablespoons cocoa powder, sifted

7 tablespoons butter, at room temperature

3 tablespoons milk

Fit a 12-cup cupcake- or muffin tin with paper liners.  Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

Whisk the flour, cocoa, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl.  Add the soft butter and beat with a wooden spoon until combined.  Pour in 1/4 cup of the milk, egg, and vanilla, and continue beating vigorously with the wooden spoon until a consistent batter forms.  Add the remaining 1/4 cup milk and beat to combine.  Scrape into cupcake liners.  Bake cupcakes 16 to 20 minutes, or until they feel springy and a skewer comes out clean.  Cool completely.  Wash and dry bowl and wooden spoon.

To make icing, beat the confectioners' sugar, soft butter, and cocoa powder  in the same bowl with the wooden spoon.  Add the milk slowly and continue to beat until a smooth icing forms.  A few lumps won't kill anyone.  Dollop frosting on cupcakes, shower with sprinkles, and serve.

printable pdf