Confession

For the first time in my 27 years on this planet, I forgot to add water to the rice before I cooked it. For shit's sake. G opens the rice cooker and dry rice spills over the side. (No clue why he tipped it in the first place.) Embarrassing. In defense of my error, I was finishing a roast chicken and cooking asparagus, and was waiting for the water to finish filtering. But still. I'm so glad I didn't do that around family. My sister would've blogged it.

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My Awesome Day.

After taking houseguest #4 to the airport today, I went to Ikea. I bought two drawer bottoms for 3 frickin' dollars each because mine warped during the winter and now one doesn't fit in the little grooves anymore. I know I could've gone to Home Depot and gotten something sturdier, but knowing me, it was worth ponying up the 6 bucks.

I also bought a plant stand, and sawed the legs off because it was too tall. (We have a saw! My dad bought it for me last year, and I thought it was funny. Now, I'm just grateful we had it.) Well, G did most of the sawing because...well, he had better control. This replaces the box I've been using for the past 11 months. (I'd been waiting to find something small enough!)

I also made a little desk shelf out of cabinet legs and a shelf piece from the As Is section. I didn't gain that much space, but now things are a little more spread out and less cluttered.

While we were gone, the landlady had a new toilet installed (smaller tank! shiny and new!) and re-caulked our sink.

I had a hot dog and some canned baked beans for dinner, because I was trying to avoid eating cheese for dinner and just ended up being hungry and cranky. Now I feel kinda weird. Similar to the feeling I get when I eat poptarts or triscuits. Mmmm processed foods.

Now I'm catching up on blogs, but I'm really not in the mood to focus.

And that was my awesome day.

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Correlations

Someday, I'd like to make a graph of how many posts and words I've posted over the years, and compare that to a graph of my level of happiness over the years. When things are super shitty, I write a lot, but when I'm just drifting like I am now, there is very little worth saying. I guess I also post less when I'm super busy, but I'm usually not that focused on my happiness when I'm surging towards a deadline.

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Yes, it's spring.

It's 4am, and there's a robin somewhere outside, very happy to be alive. I guess it's better than a mockingbird or a blue jay (I really don't see either one up here). And no I did not get up to tell you this, but I was thinking about going to bed...

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Thank you BBC.

Great tits cope well with warming

Not worth clicking the link unless y'know, you like great tits.

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Confession

Today I bought The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. Again. As I still do not have a job (some may say I am actively avoiding the search), this was an indulgence. Err, so was going out for Thai food and watching The Flight of the Red Balloon in an actual movie theater, but I've justified most of that already.

In January or February, I read a borrowed copy, and loved it. A few weeks ago, I actually went to a couple used book stores and bought a paperback version for myself.

Today I found the first edition second printing of the hardback sitting in the used section of the university book store, and decided that was much cooler than the paperback. (Okay fine, a second printing isn't nearly as cool, but having it in hardback is still kinda neat.) So now I have an extra copy. I'd offer to send it to you, but I'm really bad about going to the post office. Yep.

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On killing my own food. Oh, and Twitter.

I like to think that I have no problem killing fish. But I've never snapped the head off of a live fish. Or clubbed one. Hmm. What's the best way to kill a live fish? When we'd go fishing, we'd let them suffocate, sitting in a bucket while we caught our quota. After a few hours of fishing and a few hours driving from Monterey to San Jose, everything was usually dead. Passive killing. The gutting was no problem.

I'm not so sure about killing something bigger and furrier, like a cow or a pig, but I think the gutting part would be okay if I had someone to walk me through it. I'd probably have issues raising a cute baby something and then slaughtering it myself, but I doubt that'll be an issue, unless I go farm-hippie, or the world goes to crap or something like that.

I tell you all this because contradictorily, the thought of steaming lobsters or clams alive weirds me out. I was reading an article about how to debeard a mussel (you pull on the beard and the mussel pulls back?), and that's creepy. Like hacking off an octopus leg. And I know, bivalves don't have brains, or if they do, they have wee tiny brains that would never be able to express pain like a delicious, gasping fishy; I just don't like the idea of interactive gutting.

In other news, the rest of the world is all about Twitter and twittering (140 character blogging), and while I kind of want to try the hep new thing (well, it's not that new), I rarely post as it is. But you might see a twitter mini-blog some day, because I often think of you guys--I just don't want to hammer out a good entry all the time. We'll see. What do you think? Will a steady stream of short blurbs replace the occasional long entry? Or will the twitters supplement the longer posts? Would you want to see some short thoughts? Do any of you twitter? Also, do any of you use RSS?

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Well, hello May.

It's getting to the point now where I am bored of the internet and want to do Things That Cost Money. It used to be easier to ignore those urges, like the first time I looked at my bank account and realized I didn't have enough money for rent. (Damn that was scary.) But now I've got a fat tax rebate, some yen exchanged (the bank clerk asked if we had just come back from a trip. Har har.), and a few other checks deposited, and it's becoming more difficult. Technically, all that money should go into a savings account, maybe my retirement fund (I am very proud that I took the steps to do that), and I still haven't fixed my camera, but I just stare at my account balance and think about concerts and movies.

The weather's also getting nicer, which means I'm starting to feel guilty about sitting at home all day. At least I have my windows open.

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Dreams after drinking

Last night I dreamed I was sitting in a brightly lit bar (what a coincidence) and Tony Danza, drunk as anything, is lying on the bench beside me. Apparently this is a common occurrence because I said hello, patted him on the head and went back to my conversation. A few tables over is Judith Light (Angela from Who's the Boss/Claire Meade from Ugly Betty), who is unaware that her former cast mate is wasted a few feet away.

Tony Danza gets up and has a microphone. Some blurry, hazy dream minutes later, Judith Light storms out, offended, with the bar owner following her with apologies.

A few minutes later, my high school choir choreographer pops in, reaches between the seat cushions and pulls out two jars of pickles. Apparently the bar used to be her home and she came back for her pickles. Because, of course the bar owner didn't replace any of the furniture.

----

In real life news, last night I went to dinner with G, his mom, and some of their fencing friends. They're planning a trip to Vancouver. (We also went last year.) Following dinner, we went to a pottery workshop, where G's dad was playing the drums with his band at a memorial/party. There were dogs wandering around.

After that, we went to a low-key neighborhood bar, where we talked about strange food, listened to "Don't Stop Believing" (Journey) and "Let's Stay Together" (Al Green) three or four times because those were the jukebox autoplay songs, and discussed the pope's new deadly sins. I had an Irish Coffee that was mostly whiskey, topped with whipped cream, green creme de menthe, and a cherry. (Ew.) Then I asked for an amaretto sour, but the bartender had never heard of it. Neither had a few people at the table. (What?)

All in all, I can decide which was more surreal, my dream, or last night's happenings.

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I cook because I'm bored.

Right now, I'm boiling pinto beans, because they were in the pantry. I have no idea what I'm going to do with one pound of pinto beans besides make refried beans, but it sure beats tossing a 70-cent bag of beans, right?

I need to get a job.

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Here is a chicken entry for you.

I'm baking a chicken, whee. Nothing special this time, although I don't think I rubbed enough butter on it, so it won't turn that pretty brown color.

It seems like every time I bake a chicken, I have to check the internet for liver recipes. I toss the neck into the freezer for that special day I finally make stock (I swear I'll do it eventually), but I'm always left with the liver (and sometimes the heart), puzzled. Sometimes I flour and fry it, sometimes I half-assedly saute it. But I always check the internet first, because maybe I'll find something clever I can try that won't take too much effort. Meh. I sautéed this time. I think I also sauteed a gizzard, which turned out unnaturally crunchy. I couldn't eat it, even though I kept trying to convince myself that it was just like nankotsu karaage (fried crunchy chicken cartilage! I miss you.), but it was just too stringy looking. Any tips on what to do next time?

Also, in my internet search, I came across this lovely description of gutting chickens, written by a woman who can't stand raw meat. Fascinating.

http://ephelba.blogspot.com/2007/07/chicken-guts.html

Hope you're doing well. Cl's staying with her family while they're in town, so it's just me and G in this unnaturally clean apartment for a few days. Keep an eye out for rogue facebook tagging.

PS: G just cut himself. Opening the pepper mill. With a fork. (Fine, fine, it has a lid that's difficult to take off. But still! Stabbed with a fork!)

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WTF, I don't live in the ghetto.

But on the street corner, there is a cheap-looking tall, black woman's boot with a broken heel lying in a pile of leaves. Someone either lost it on a drunken walk home, or chucked it out the window of their car. I like to pretend there wasn't a scuffle, because the heel's broken. And it doesn't look like it'd easily slip off.

I'll chuck it tomorrow, but I might take a picture and post it first. Gross.

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Houseguest and Butter

Cl is in town! It's nice mixing things up. It's Day 3, and things will probably be pretty smooth. She's the only one that has to get up for work (G is taking his last final of the quarter, old J-literature, as I type), so there's no bathroom jam.

Last night I decided to make buttermilk biscuits because there's a quart of buttermilk in the fridge. (Ahem, purchased with the intent to make biscuits.) Mmmm. They're always a crowd pleaser. We each ate two, and that was after dinner, and after ice cream. Haha.

And have you heard? This is mostly directed at L, but the March issue of Saveur is all about butter:

Isn't that an awesome picture? I wish they had actually put butter on the cover, but I guess caramel sauce is more photogenic.

I might have to buy it, even though I'm just a butter novice compared to L. They even include directions for making butter, which is made even more appealing because they included step by step pictures. Sure beats a picture of a mason jar. Let's compare:

The well-lit, enticing magazine photo. Yep, they want you to do it by hand.

The unpretentious, yet unappealing mason jar.

http://blog.mycreativecup.com/?m=200709 for the well photographed process.

So ever since I got back from dropping G off for his final, I've been reading about butter. This woman tried the Saveur recipe, and it looks good (unfortunately, her spelling is distracting):
http://cookingthehardway.wordpress.com/2008/03/01/churn-your-own/

Cooking for Engineers has his own process (using a stand mixer) with excellent explanations.

Apartment Therapy's TheKitchn (still hate the name) has a recipe using a food processor.

And somewhere along the way, I found some links to Dorie Greenspan's blog on butter tastings and The Five Commandments for Perfecting Your Butter Attitude from a French Elle magazine.

So it looks like my next project might be making butter. Fresh butter on fresh bread. Hmmm...

(Also, let me know if you'd like me to buy the magazine for either of you. I'll send it...eventually.)

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Product Review: Bigelow Vanilla Chai Tea

Smells like hotel potpourri (fake vanilla), all I can taste is 2% milk and sugar. Halfway through the cup, I can't smell the potpourri anymore, and there's this vague sensation of spiciness. And it's better that way. At the last job, they had tazo organic chai, which was vastly superior. Even if I put too much milk or sugar in, there was plenty of spice fighting its way through.

I know I should've seen this coming--it was a bonus addition to the earl grey I bought. (No objection to the earl grey.)

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Well, that was amusing.

The show was funny. It opened with this NotFunny guy who was part comedian, part singer. He changed costumes a lot and had some cardboard props. His last sketch/song was about spicy noodle soup. His name is not worth mentioning.

Then there was this electronica band called the United States of Electronica. Happy electronic music. I couldn't see much, but one woman was in sequins, and the other seemed to be wearing a corset made of metal. The only guy I had a clear view of was wearing a rainbow-striped suit and primarily sang using a vocoder (you know, the robot voice!). He was spazztastic and fun.

As for the Presidents of the United States of America, or PUSA as they seem to be shortening it these days, it was nice seeing a band that I was familiar with. They played most of the songs I knew, and they even played Video Killed the Radio Star (their famous cover). There was confetti and balloons, and the guitarist's little son came out and played a little. It was adorable and not pretentious at all, although at that point, I couldn't see crap.

Unfortunately I'm old and cantankerous, and was at first annoyed by the cloying smell of lipsmackers and pushy moms pushing their insecure sons closer to the stage. Then the show started and there was some half-hearted moshing (shoving). And then there were these slutty caricatures of groupies that smelled like department store perfume. And then there were these two women who tried to barge up front, failed, and then had a little dance party where they were stopped, crushing the poor high school girls that just wanted to have a good time.

Probably the most interesting part of the show was watching security. At first I thought they were just being cautious--they were scanning the crowd like they were waiting for a fight to break out. And then they start pointing. A few seconds later, some sweaty bro is flashing the horns and shoving to get back into the crowd. Turns out security was managing the crowdsurfing. It was fascinating. Guy (or occasionally girl) goes up, security points him out, two more gloved security guys pull him over the rail once he gets to the front of the stage, and point him to the side of the stage. Where I was standing. At first it was annoying, having the potbellied security guy pointing his meaty finger in my face to guide the surfer back into the crowd. And then it was just funny. Some rubbed his belly, one guy started dancing with me. I wish I could've taken a picture of each one that shoved by.

So yeah, there's my show review. Glad I went, glad it was free.

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Wait, shit, what?

I think I just won a pair of tickets to a Presidents of the United States of America concert. (Please see my reaction above.) Live music is cool, I like the Paramount Theater, but uhm, whoops. I only signed up because, hey, free is cool. Guess I'll go then. Haha.

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Butcher's Twine

The pot roast went well. It fell apart and I'm all meat-and-potatoed out. Awesome. No pictures because I tore into that thing. Totally worth the 6 hours (including prep). Example: when I carefully peeled the butcher's twine off, flakes (flakes!) of meat came off with it.

Only slightly related: a few days ago, when I asked the woman at the grocery store meat counter if they had butcher's twine, I had hoped she would point me to the correct aisle. Instead, she reached under the counter and rhythmically looped a few yards, cut it, folded it into fourths, and deftly twisted it into a piece of saran wrap. That's the closest I've felt to being in Japan in a very long time.

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In real news...

My dad is coming on a business trip this Thursday and Friday, maybe staying until Sunday to hang out.

On Monday, Cl (the one that's dating Mr. 'Cock) is coming to town for two weeks to work with the traveling production of Cabaret. Exciting! She'll be here for two weeks.

Three days later, R and N, the infamous Shodoshima duo, will be here for about five days for a teachers' job fair and to explore the PNW. Hmm, come to think of it, I think they're flying in on the day I need to go to SJ for my grandfather's 90th birthday party. Sheesh.

Anyway, the point is, holy shit, do I need to start cleaning.

In food news, bread loaf #2 came out underdone--gummy and denser than the first. I used a different pot and took it out too early. Sad. I'll try again later, but the damn thing takes about 20 hours to rise! Maybe I should try making real bread. More effort, a quarter (half?) of the time. Or maybe I'll try that other no-knead recipe that only takes 5 hours to rise. Hmm.

Also, G made a double batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies last night. A DOUBLE batch. I hope he intends to share some with people outside of this apartment.

We've also been on a massive carrot binge after I bought a five pound bag. Y'know, carrots taste really good. G thinks it's because we haven't had them in such a long time. Har har. So, lots of carrot sticks, and last night I made a carrot salad with my Japanese mandoline. You know what? It sucks. SO does G's. The little holder thing seems to be made for daikon, not small root vegetables that fall off after every slice. Grr. But the salad's good, so yay. And yay for eating more vegetables. (I also just found out that baby carrots are just ugly carrots pared down to pretty, uniform two inch segments. I don't know why this never occurred to me before.)

Tonight for dinner: pot roast. I need to start it right now (1:34pm), so it'll be done somewhat close to dinner time. Wish me luck!

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I shouldn't nap on the couch.

Crazy dreams ensued. I remember snapping a claw off of a large crawdad that was somehow still alive after living in the freezer. I cracked it open and ate the meat. (Can you eat crawdads raw? Ew?) Then I realized that the poor critter was still alive and I felt horrible. I still had to shell the rest of it, so I smashed its head with a jar because I couldn't handle its weak attempts to get away. After I had cleaned it all, there was a long tentacle stuck in the drain. I felt like I was going to be sick.

Oh, and I think I did all this while sitting in a bathtub.

Blech.

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Bread Update

About 24 hours after I baked it, it's almost gone. Tastes fantastic, has a pretty crust, and the insides are full of bready holes. If I were on any sort of diet, I'd be appalled at what I ate today:

Breakfast: bread and butter
Lunch: cereal bar, banana, bread and butter
Dinner: Greek chicken lemon rice soup, bread and butter, apple and cheese

Loaf #2 using the standard recipe with bread flour is sitting in the warm oven right now. I'll give it the full 18-hour rest, and make it tomorrow night. Mmmm bread. I've found myself a new recipe to obsess over.

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