Where am I and what have I done with my pants (II); or, in which your fearless blogger backtracks feverishly to catch up
Damn it, I simply do not have enough time between tonight and tomorrow.
After my J/J Project re-reread (finished the book Wed. night, still have seven months to go in the blog), I'm tempted to natter on about my entertaining personal life. However, since I am not a character in my own life (I hereby remind Kate of our mutual nondisclosure agreement), I will continue to stick to project updates.
- Second session of my writing class started tonight. (Did I mention that every student but one decided to create a continuing course? Warm fuzzies.) I'm surprised at how happy I am to be back talking and writing with that group. Also: Hi, protagonist. Nice to see you again. Have you figured yourself out at all while I've been gone?
- Short assignment. Never mind the details; I have to wake up in six hours and I still have my contacts in.
- Very little knitting, but Sat. = yarn fiesta. My lost momentum on the sweater bodes well for the APT.
- Hence: As usual, mostly I'm here to write about cooking. (Is it like painting about music, or whatever that anti-critic adage says?) This shan't be that amusing due to an unfortunate (ha) lack of massive Pyrex catastrophe.
My cooking tear quieted. Friday night I ate leftovers like a normal person. Saturday night I ate party food, ditto the normality. Sunday night I cooked, like a normal person; that is, if a normal person had to amalgamate a cabbage the size of her head.
Saturday, my cousin's friend (and fellow farm-shareholder) pulled out an old Madhur Jaffrey cookbook and pointed to the curried cabbage recipe. I noted mustard seeds, fennel seeds, and coconut. (Did you know that coconut comes frozen? In fact, frozen is the only kind the Arlington Mass Ave. Indian market carries. No sugar or preservatives.)
I bought coconut, dal, and cumin seeds. I did not buy fennel seeds. Who needs them when you have... fennel?
Mmm, warm stuff. Curried cabbage and fennel with mustard seeds and the above. Dal, brown rice, yogurt. Didn't taste the fennel at all. Half the cabbage down, half to go.
(This week I also ate a child's pillowcase's worth of salad mix, but the picture's boring.)
Wednesday: Again the farm share overload. The cute share coordinator (farmer's brother) told me that since we share in the harvest, when they grow more we get more. Summer's share coordinator-- while a lovely woman-- rarely let us have extras. I suppose that the farmer's brother feels a lot more free with the veg.
Having lugged probably twenty pounds of produce home-- I wanted to stop at Lucy's and ask to step on her scale, but I knew that a single stop would derail me-- I booted the boring roasted root vegetables idea and proceeded to make...
Au(tumn)gratin. The big Pyrex dish (snif) I'm saving for Saturday's shareholder potluck (chez farm share coordinator).* I made a separate one for myself in my 9x9 metal pan, a/k/a my second-rate brownie pan (snif).
* You understand that I could not possibly bring a boring dish to the shareholder potluck. Especially a potluck hosted by a cute guy.
Contents: Sweet potatoes, carrots (three different colors), parsnips, turnips, two kohlrabi, celeriac. Browned leeks and garlic. Several full-fat dairy products.
To my surprise, a perusal of the Big Yellow Cookbook, Joy of Cooking ca. 1976, and Julia Child vol. 1 came up with four different gratin methods. My synthesis: Parboiled the vegetables; spread in buttered dishes; topped off with heated cream; dotted with butter and smoked Gouda; baked forever, alternating between 300-350 degrees; finished under the broiler with a light dusting of breadcrumbs. The stuff never fully absorbed the cream, but out of the oven it sucked the liquid up. Unexpected.
Conclusion? Well, it's gorgeous yummy stuff, but next time I gratinée anything I'm taking the baked mac & cheese route and using béchamel sauce instead of cream, which even when heavy isn't all that thick. (Julia C. mentions the béchamel idea almost in afterthought. And yes, I dragged out the cookbook after re-rereading the J/J blog. Shush. I did own the cookbook before I heard about the blog.)
The Gouda never melted. Fine with me, since it looks like the parsnips and gives the eater a wee, premonitory "is it or isn't it" thrill.
Wish I'd made more.
--
Anyway, that was the sum post-parsnip total for the week. Not crazed, right? Pretty normal. I mean, it wasn't my fault the aliens arrived. Aliens have unstoppable drive. The first signs appeared Sunday evening, with a telltale breadcrumb path pointing to the scary abode as in Hansel and Gretel. Mid-afternoon Monday, as the day cooled off, they burgeoned in the warm womb and then, finally, descended.
I tell you, that UFO was a fearsome sight. Preliminary telescope data indicated that the entity had a tenacious crust and was filled with soft, pink creatures (with googly eyes, we expect) who came to colonize the Earth. A dire fate, indeed. You don't know how close you came to destruction.
But! Fortunately, one brave hero stood alone to battle the foe. Though others quailed and hid in their homes (hmph), yours truly lifted her four-pronged spear and fought back bravely, sustaining damage but persevering on.
Success came not at once. No, the battle wages on to this day. But la lucha must continua. I tell you:
I will win this fight. On your behalf. And live to fight another day! Specifically, Sunday, when-- the telescope, weather report, and datebook tell us-- more UFOs will rain down upon Boston from the mothership to the north.
Despite their cowardice during the first battle, conscripts may still be accepted. Do you have the guts for glory?
After my J/J Project re-reread (finished the book Wed. night, still have seven months to go in the blog), I'm tempted to natter on about my entertaining personal life. However, since I am not a character in my own life (I hereby remind Kate of our mutual nondisclosure agreement), I will continue to stick to project updates.
- Second session of my writing class started tonight. (Did I mention that every student but one decided to create a continuing course? Warm fuzzies.) I'm surprised at how happy I am to be back talking and writing with that group. Also: Hi, protagonist. Nice to see you again. Have you figured yourself out at all while I've been gone?
- Short assignment. Never mind the details; I have to wake up in six hours and I still have my contacts in.
- Very little knitting, but Sat. = yarn fiesta. My lost momentum on the sweater bodes well for the APT.
- Hence: As usual, mostly I'm here to write about cooking. (Is it like painting about music, or whatever that anti-critic adage says?) This shan't be that amusing due to an unfortunate (ha) lack of massive Pyrex catastrophe.
My cooking tear quieted. Friday night I ate leftovers like a normal person. Saturday night I ate party food, ditto the normality. Sunday night I cooked, like a normal person; that is, if a normal person had to amalgamate a cabbage the size of her head.
Saturday, my cousin's friend (and fellow farm-shareholder) pulled out an old Madhur Jaffrey cookbook and pointed to the curried cabbage recipe. I noted mustard seeds, fennel seeds, and coconut. (Did you know that coconut comes frozen? In fact, frozen is the only kind the Arlington Mass Ave. Indian market carries. No sugar or preservatives.)
I bought coconut, dal, and cumin seeds. I did not buy fennel seeds. Who needs them when you have... fennel?
Mmm, warm stuff. Curried cabbage and fennel with mustard seeds and the above. Dal, brown rice, yogurt. Didn't taste the fennel at all. Half the cabbage down, half to go.
(This week I also ate a child's pillowcase's worth of salad mix, but the picture's boring.)
Wednesday: Again the farm share overload. The cute share coordinator (farmer's brother) told me that since we share in the harvest, when they grow more we get more. Summer's share coordinator-- while a lovely woman-- rarely let us have extras. I suppose that the farmer's brother feels a lot more free with the veg.
Having lugged probably twenty pounds of produce home-- I wanted to stop at Lucy's and ask to step on her scale, but I knew that a single stop would derail me-- I booted the boring roasted root vegetables idea and proceeded to make...
Au(tumn)gratin. The big Pyrex dish (snif) I'm saving for Saturday's shareholder potluck (chez farm share coordinator).* I made a separate one for myself in my 9x9 metal pan, a/k/a my second-rate brownie pan (snif).
* You understand that I could not possibly bring a boring dish to the shareholder potluck. Especially a potluck hosted by a cute guy.
Contents: Sweet potatoes, carrots (three different colors), parsnips, turnips, two kohlrabi, celeriac. Browned leeks and garlic. Several full-fat dairy products.
To my surprise, a perusal of the Big Yellow Cookbook, Joy of Cooking ca. 1976, and Julia Child vol. 1 came up with four different gratin methods. My synthesis: Parboiled the vegetables; spread in buttered dishes; topped off with heated cream; dotted with butter and smoked Gouda; baked forever, alternating between 300-350 degrees; finished under the broiler with a light dusting of breadcrumbs. The stuff never fully absorbed the cream, but out of the oven it sucked the liquid up. Unexpected.
Conclusion? Well, it's gorgeous yummy stuff, but next time I gratinée anything I'm taking the baked mac & cheese route and using béchamel sauce instead of cream, which even when heavy isn't all that thick. (Julia C. mentions the béchamel idea almost in afterthought. And yes, I dragged out the cookbook after re-rereading the J/J blog. Shush. I did own the cookbook before I heard about the blog.)
The Gouda never melted. Fine with me, since it looks like the parsnips and gives the eater a wee, premonitory "is it or isn't it" thrill.
Wish I'd made more.
--
Anyway, that was the sum post-parsnip total for the week. Not crazed, right? Pretty normal. I mean, it wasn't my fault the aliens arrived. Aliens have unstoppable drive. The first signs appeared Sunday evening, with a telltale breadcrumb path pointing to the scary abode as in Hansel and Gretel. Mid-afternoon Monday, as the day cooled off, they burgeoned in the warm womb and then, finally, descended.
I tell you, that UFO was a fearsome sight. Preliminary telescope data indicated that the entity had a tenacious crust and was filled with soft, pink creatures (with googly eyes, we expect) who came to colonize the Earth. A dire fate, indeed. You don't know how close you came to destruction.
But! Fortunately, one brave hero stood alone to battle the foe. Though others quailed and hid in their homes (hmph), yours truly lifted her four-pronged spear and fought back bravely, sustaining damage but persevering on.
Success came not at once. No, the battle wages on to this day. But la lucha must continua. I tell you:
I will win this fight. On your behalf. And live to fight another day! Specifically, Sunday, when-- the telescope, weather report, and datebook tell us-- more UFOs will rain down upon Boston from the mothership to the north.
Despite their cowardice during the first battle, conscripts may still be accepted. Do you have the guts for glory?
posted by Danielle at 12:54 AM
1 Comments:
p.s. Kate has not revealed anything embarrassing about me-- for instance, the many times I have acted like a character in my own life. Unfortunately I don't need any assistance to embarrass myself.
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