Fruit Pies by the Case
All Logs go to Heaven
5.28.4 Go Fish
Copper River King salmon has hit the stores; it's a big deal because it's fattier than other salmon. Tastes good, better for you. A fish that hasn't been seen in decades (unless you went sport fishing in Alaska) is the Yukon River Kings, which are even bigger, even fattier, and generally even tastier. There are actually enough to sell some retail this year, and Seattle peeps, especially West Seattle peeps, can get the fishies from Metropolitan Market. It will be a couple more weeks for the Yukons, but keep an eye out. Know more about what you eat; go read this.And then go park your SUV permanently and start living like they matter. Yay, fishies.
If you eat them in a restaurant, it is likely you will be asked if cooking it to medium rare is acceptable. Say yes. It's much better. And I'm an expert. That means you're wrong.
Or you could just skip the real fish and play with this.
5.27.4 A Snack
My kitchen, and thus my life, is currently in an uproar--new cabinets and soon to be no counters. This mild, rainy day is just crying out to be filled with baked goods, but I cannot answer that forlorn little misty cry. Thanks to what follows, you can...it's an old tidbit I wrote a couple years ago that has never seen the light of, ah, the web. Go bake a cookie.
The cookie is inherently a creature of whimsy. When you are offered cookies from a plate or jar, it hearkens back to the simplicity of childhood, when a cookie was the reward for tasks like keeping your dress on in public or going in the potty. Sadly, rewards for such accomplishments are more subtle once adulthood is reached; keeping one's dress on in public simply results in the absence of an arrest record, and there is nary a cookie in sight.
Desserts of a more serious nature—chocolate tortes, zabaglione—are delightful, but are also strictly for the adult palate. While cheesecake, coffee, and a cigarette is one of life's perfect meals, it brings the weight of philsophical dilemmas to the table alongside the plate. This is a meal meant to be eaten late at night, under a too-bright light (any light is too bright), surrounded by noise and smoke. In contrast, a cookie is a happy snack, a pocket-sized surprise that you can nibble while thinking happy thoughts. They are at home in a plastic baggie, but love nothing more than to be trotted out on a doily-lined glass plate, accompanied by hot chocolate. They are generous little souls who ask nothing for themselves, existing only to give a moment's pleasure.
Cookies are as fun to bake as they are to eat. This basic recipe can be changed drastically by nothing more than altering that final addition of chocolate chips. Nuts, dried fruit, other flavors of chips, raisins, or soft candies can be combined for a nearly infinite variety of flavors. My favorite of late is "tiny cookies", made with miniature chocolate chips and formed into balls the size of a half-teaspoon. They can be eaten by the handful, and every bite combines a lightly crisp edge with a tender, gooey center.
The Best Plain Cookie
2 sticks soft butter; not melted, but soft enough to stir easily
3/4 C. brown sugar
3/4 C. white sugar
2 eggs
2 tsp. vanilla
2 1/2 C. flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
1 bag chocolate mini morsels
(may be changed to regular-sized chips of any flavor, or 2.c chopped dried fruit, or 2.c chopped nuts, or 2c. small candies such as m&ms, sugar babies, or chopped candy bars.)
Line cookie sheets with foil, parchment or silpat. Turn oven to 350. Stir softened butter until it's smooth as yogurt; then stir in sugars and vanilla. Add eggs, and beat firmly until all ingredients are as one. Mix in flour, baking soda and salt; be thorough. Add chips, nuts, fruit, or candy, and blend gently. Dough can be formed into balls of any size, adjusting cooking times accordingly.
1/2 tsp balls--7 minutes
1 tsp balls--8 minutes
2 tsp balls--10 minutes
ice cream scoop monsters--15 minutes
Remove foil sheets from baking pan immediately, and allow to cool at least slightly before digging in.
5.26.4 Miss Perfect
It took a dozen phone calls to Qwest to straighten out DSL. Of my individual clients, half did not process my change of address properly. Buying paint at Home Depot was a nightmare best forgotten. In Victoria, we got up very early (after a late night) and drove for 45 minutes to meet up with a tour that had never been scheduled for me. Yesterday afternoon, I learned we were supposed to take out our kitchen counters before the measuring, rather than the installing: I learned that from the measurer, who was there to measure. Last night at 9pm, we learned that Mr. Cabinet had forgotten to tell us to remove everything from the cabinets. He will be here at 10am today.
Normally, when this many things are messed up, one has to consider the "maybe it's me". But when everyone one talks to apologizes and explains and excuses and offers to erase contracts and/or overnight checks...well, it looks like it is them. I can see why people who can afford them hire personal assistants: to separate them from incompetence.
On the upside, not only is the new liberry just lovely, they have a supercool new self checkout station where you simply lay a pile of books on a big weird pad and it magically scans every book at once. Bickety bam! Done, and done!
5.24.4 City of Blank
Victoria is the "City of Gardens". Vancouver, lovely place that it is, is "City of Glass". I have suggested "City of Stucco" for Seattle, while Sweetie went one further and came up with "City of Cheap-Ass Building Materials and Ugly Architecture". Maybe "City of Popped Bubbles" is a nicer way of saying the same things.
I highly recommend taking Amtrak to Vancouver. You chug along the water most of the time (way to preserve that coastline!) and in one spot you'll see about 40 bald eagles. It actually reaches the point where one looks at eagles and thinks, damn--they're dumpster birds. Except their dumpster is, um, the ocean.
Anyway, seats are big and comfy, the dining car is funny, windows are everywhere, and it's not too hard to find a pretty empty car to ride in. Plus, they really do say "all a-booooaard!"
Vancouver rocks. The hotel and restaurant were grand (the free top-floor suite didn't hurt), Bin 941 was outstanding, and this Cirque was one of my favorite shows yet. I also had a silly cocktail that involved a glass rimmed with grape Kool-Aid powder. Adulthood is a great thing.
The highlight of Victoria was a strange bar that I don't know the name of, but nearly everyone inside had a mustache--I counted 12, just on the men. The guitarist in the bad cover band had both a Jeri-Curl and a mustache. Much like Al. My two comments that resulted in Sweetie-based spit takes:
All of Canada is a Paul Hughes bar.
Play that Funky Music, White Boy is this country's real theme song.
And Good Heavens: you do know about Lush, don't you? They're opening a store in Portland soonish. I love the website, but this is one place where shopping in the store is actually better than shopping online.
5.19.4 Over-herd
That is my new name for "early adopters".
Oh yes, I am indeed anticipating.Although when a throw-away comment like "they're safe" is in the article, I must question all the rest of it, too. Still: please, horrible multinationals, hike up the gas price.
If you eat out at fancy places, you may be seeing more weird meat and thinking, oh Mrs. Sweetie-Boom, please tell me what is up! This is what is up. I like the verb "harvest" in place of "kill". Certainly, these little ladies are being harvested.
On that note, I am going to go eat lunch. And it won't be a salad.
5.18.4 Think What You Will
If my lungs were cookies, I would put them back in the oven until they were done. Diamonds are just very old pencils. If wishes were horses, rodeos would be really boring. The pen is not mightier than the screwdriver.
Mr. and Mrs. Sweetie-Boom are going to visit another country on Thursday. We will speak slowly and loudly while observing the habits of Canadians in their natural habitat. Home, train, circus, dinner, sleeping, ferry ride, sleeping, gardens, sleeping, farms, wineries, Clipper, home.
5.17.4 E Pluribus Libris
I just read Fluke and loved it. Put your laptop down and go buy a copy. Snowcrash plus whales minus skateboards plus submarines.
Yesterday, I woke up wonderfully un-achey. An hour or so after a late lunch, I had chills and runny nose and the creeping awfuls, and immediately recognized these symptoms as the onset of food poisoning. I went to lie down, and hang on for the ride, when I realized that food poisoning symptoms are remarkably like codeine withdrawl. And guess who hadn't taken any pills for more than 12 hours? One dose and an hour later, I was fine. Last night, I was trying to remember some of what Burroughs wrote about the nature of being a junkie; how it's different from other users because it ramble mumble mumble gets into your cells and changes those mumbles forever AHHH! MONSTERS!
Anyway, I think was he was getting at the difference between a physical dependence and a mental craving. Without my "food poisoning", I don't think I would've taken any pills until bedtime last night, but my body is used to at least three doses/day--more, generally. And as I learned post-surgery, an appropriate weaning period makes dropping the meds no big deal at all. The hard part for me right now is not playing dumb little games about "haHA! My brain has no need of you, so neither does my titanium-filled BodyBot!" An occasional rare day like yesterday aside, those 3-4 doses a day are precisely what it takes to keep me functioning pain-free. And now, apparently, they keep me functioning without monsters.
5.12.4 Wed Nes
This is one of my least favorite phrases; I never listen to the radio midweek because I know I'll hear face-for-radio guys hooting it out. Knowing it's been around so long seems to only make it worse. I wonder if "nice girls" didn't used to say it?
I think the nest by our building's front door is still active, but a little fellow seems to be nest building up near my office window. The nests are rather mitteny. Mr. Bushie seems quite busy. As does Squirrel P. Nut, who like to bury his legumes in my planters. I'm not happy about it, but certainly not unhappy enough about to insert a glowstsick in his butt. I look forward to Glowstick Granny issuing a new press release about how they had no knowlege of how their product might be used, even if it happened on their watch.
How was that for a smooth, subtle transition? Squirrels + Peanuts = Glowsticks + Torture. True or False?
5.11.4 Symptoms
I sort of thought that most acute diseases in this country were ""diseases of young people". (a side note: kids under 2 in WA get an average of 9 colds a year each. Or they did in '96.)In general, I appreciate doctors "not testing asymptomatic patients". It sort of seems like the alternative is saying "hey, you're under 25 and have sex. You need a test." And maybe with STDs, the thinking is different. But one version of lupus hits women under 30, and you don't get a test for that just because you're the proper age.
In '88, I had a very long plane flight next to a chatty gentleman from Canada. His field of research was chalmyidia, and he bored me greatly while "treating" me to a detailed discussion of its general loveliness. The way researchers come to adore the diseases they study is sweet (although boring for the rest of us, like listening to tales about any new love). Perhaps I should adopt their attitudes and come to adore my current Snotopalooza. Sinus infection? Maybe. Cold? Perhaps. Horrible new level of allergies? Could be.
If I was Terribly Famous, I wonder if I could sell my used tissues. I can't find 'em on Google or eBay, so perhaps not. There does seem to be some kind of sexual kink involving women with lots of snot. Perhaps I need a webcam. To pay for all my tissues. And to establish a market base for the used ones.
This is the last note about tissues, I promise. Have you ever noticed that the real product name for what everyone calls "Kleenex" is actually "facial tissues"? I suggest that in this age of plastic surgery and Extreme Makeovers, "facial tissues" have a new meaning. I have a few suggestions for renaming, but I didn't get where I am today by givin' it away. (Oh dear. Being All Married and Stuff makes jokes like that seem Not Funny. Except to Mr. Sweetie. Or Mr. Sweetie-Boom, if we hyphenate.)
This entry was brought to you by fahrenheit 100.5.
5.7.4 PSA Numero Deux
Tomorrow (Saturday) is the mail carrier food drive. Get your damn bag of food together, you lazy blog-reading person. Take it to your mailbox by tomorrow morning. You are done.
Today's entry was brought to you by the number two, the Rosita the Muppet, and a randomly chosen local-to-me non-profit calendar.
5.6.4 May I?
Sweetie and I are now a legal unit. The ceremony itself has been titled "The Case of the Disappearing Limo Driver". Darryl said he'd be back in 15 minutes when he dropped us at the courthouse, but we never saw him again. After a 40 minute wait outside the courthouse, we hijacked Limo #2 from the same chapel and most likely got Darryl fired, which wasn't what I wanted on my conscience du jour. We had ordered photos, and were handed a roll of film in a used baggie. No photographer ever appeared.
I could go on, but let me sum up with three comments:
Cheesepants said, "I was 99% sure I was never going to get married. Now I am 100% sure."
Vegas chapels should run like well-oiled machines. They don't.
It's best if the whole thing is compared to other "coming of age" ceremonies around the world. At least there was no loss of flesh.
I won about 350 bucks at random slot machines on the strip. Frank Sinatra was especially good to me, and sang "Fly Me to the Moon" while handing me 200 bucks of the total winnings. We missed Fat Elvis, but did have a tremendous time at Tom Jones. Many women did, in fact, throw panties on stage. Oddly, they were all alike, to the point where I wondered if the gift shop sold some kind of special prop panty. Our glider company also operates in Cle Elum. The pilot is great, and the weird little toy birds are much fun to fly in. We were given a "physics lesson" that culminated in the pilot's comment, "if I was to do more, you'd have to be wearing parachutes".
It was also quite satisfying to see Sweetie more excited/anxious than I was. He apparently had quite a moment of "wow, we're going to die". I was like, neat! Tow rope! Whoopee! A note if you are thinking, "I must go in glider now": the thermals make for a fair amount of motion sickness in people who pretty much never get that way. A note on the weather: the desert is far more comfortable at about 9k feet. Much cooler.
Upon return, we learned that a small friend of ours had just had her appendix rupture and was recuperating after surgery. It is humbling to have an eight-year-old be a better patient than my own self. After our visit with her, I found an email inviting us to a free cool press trip to our choice of Victoria or Vancouver. I love my job. Clipper, here we come.
5.2.04 Stamp!
this project kicks a fair amount of ass. As far as I have ever been able to tell, it's hard to take much of a partisan view against food drives--granted, some have fairly yucky agendas behind them, but this is brought to you by people who carry mail and people who send mail. Which seems to reach across party lines. You should have gotten a little card about it, but it had Family Circle kids on it, so you might have thrown it out. (How funny is it that food drive is sponsored by a family with a dog named Barfy?) I would recommend getting nice light things instead of heavy canned products--boxed mac-n-cheese, dried instant soups instead of canned condensed, tea bags, and envelopes of tuna (the tuna tasted way better and less salty!)A light bag will be much appreciated, I would think. And please try to donate food you would actually want to eat, rather than the random crap hiding in your cupboards or whatever's on sale.
Sweeetie and I went to the Space Needle for work brunch. The view is much more interesting in the day time. DV8's letters are still on top of the club, if you happen to be in the market for a giant 8 or D. (Who isn't?) As far as the food: $38.50 per person for a three-course brunch. I had a fruit plate and pancakes. They were good, but not $30 worth of good. Is any pancake in the world worth that much? Do pancakes come in platinum? Google says no.
When we left, the elevator girl said, "Free doughnuts outside!" So we of course went to look. JP Patches was there, surrounded by puzzling statues of doughnuts. He is elderly enough that his clown makeup is all wattley down the folds of his neck. I heard him ask two small blond sisters if they fought all the time. I ran. Some of the doughnuts were old fashioned, tinted pink. They also looked elderly. When it comes to pastries, and clowns, I am apparently an ageist.
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