- When you’re down to the last slice-and-a-heel of bread, don’t eat it: just put it in the freezer next to the other five slice-and-a-heel-of-bread bags in there and promptly forget about it forever.
- The thought “Well, we could always use some more frozen edamame … I mean, we really like frozen edame!” while at Trader Joe’s is admirable, but don’t go overboard.
- Four unopened bags of edamame (and one half-finished) found in different sections of the freezer qualifies as overboard. (We had edamame with dinner last night: we still love them!)
- Have you been concerned about your supply of frozen breast milk? Because there turn out to be enough bags of milk in our freezer that we could slowly run them through a sno-cone machine and still be feeding the cones to Sydney next summer.
- If you get to the bottom of the freezer and can’t discern which of the small, cold, dark items are the spilled frozen blueberries and which are the spilled frozen chocolate chips, consult the nearest three year old. For a nominal fee consisting of a handful of spilled frozen blueberries and chocolate chips, she will happily tell you that they are delicious and that she should have more of them.
- Said three-year-old will turn out to be fickle in her fee structure, and upon realizing that there are unopened fruit bars in the freezer, will declare that tonight’s dessert will be a fruit bar. Specifically, this one. The one she’s waving around, yes.
- Savory waffles with cornmeal, rosemary and basil. Used my dad’s regular waffle iron, as my Belgian didn’t seem appropriate
- Roast salmon
- Broiled asparagus
- Spinach and arugula salad
- A beer (local amber)
- A squeeze bottle of 2/3 mustard to 1/3 maple syrup
Piper was thrilled to hear we were having waffles for dinner! And then she was utterly crushed to find out that we wouldn’t be putting maple syrup on them. “I want something on my waffles!” got wailed at me about five times before I got her to take a few deep breaths and mollified her with some yogurt and applesauce on the waffle.
Me, I had some sliced tomatoes and salmon on top of the crunchy cornmeal waffle and brightened with the mustard/maple. Awesome. Feels like summer is just around the corner.
Alert for any visitors to our apartment:
Please do not confuse the two Mason jars in our refrigerator. They contain similar-looking thick, rich, viscous brown fluids: one of them is home-made chocolate syrup, to satisfy a recent spate of cravings for chocolate egg creams; and the other is two cups of roux, for a several-days-late gumbo in honor of Mardi Gras.
An egg-cream made with roux would probably be terrible. I don’t even think I’ll try it for science.
- Tasting notes on the egg cream: a quarter-inch of chocolate syrup, a half-inch of milk or your milk-analogue of choice [hemp milk, in my case, and QUIT SNIGGERING] and seltzer the rest of the way up the glass. Stir. Watch out for foam.
- Cooking notes on the roux: takes a long freakin’ time to get it dark enough to have good flavor. Has to be stirred every 15 picoseconds, or it’ll taste burnt. Is probably horrible for you, but man: gumbo is awesome.
Either Kate got her eyes lasered yesterday or she went out on a bender the likes of which I have never seen, because this morning she’s been stumbling into walls and wearing dark sunglasses and moaning about the light from our neighbor’s refrigerator bothering her.
And then Piper decided to wake up earlier than usual and demand the bottle of milk we’ve been denying her for 36 hours. We’ve been waiting to return her to dairy products until she stopped casually yakking up random bits of food and beverages, so giving into the hostage-taker’s demands and giving her a full bottle of warm milk while she sat in the middle of our bed felt a little like handing her a goldfish bowl full of grenades and live snakes and asking her to keep it upright. Continue reading Having breakfast in the dark with Stevie Wonder and some angry dwarf
A neat contemplation of a problem I’ve considered, myself. Worth reading in its entirety.
I'm in Chinatown, on my way to somewhere not Chinatown. Chinatowns, in whatever city, or China-strip-malls, in whatever small city or town, are a great place to land before going elsewhere, because they are a zone that exists outside of the context of the neighboring contexts. Good for a deep breath. I take the opportunity to grab a plate of fried dumplings, or “dollar dumplings” as I call them, because in my Chinatown they cost a dollar. They are fast and cheap, plus also they are more delicious than they have any right to be. It's a dumpling house in a quiet corner, and it's a beautiful evening, with the setting sun just so and a volleyball tourney on the school tennis courts across the street just wrapping up, and I wonder to myself, “Should I Tweet how awesome this is? Should I Yelp this particular dumpling shop? Do I Digg it?” And before I can swallow what I'm chewing (awesome delicious fried dumplings) I check myself: “And ruin it?”
This is a tiny philosophical problem: when you find the hidden treasure, the off-the-beaten-path-gem, and you are a digital citizen, do you pimp the hidden treasure, or do you keep your trap shut? The cost/benefit analysis is not clear-cut. Publicize the hidden treasure, and you benefit the proprietor of the hidden treasure, but you run the risk of the hidden treasure, through success bought with this publicity, losing some of its hidden-ness and eventually some of its treasurability. Withhold the information, and then you get to have the hidden treasure to yourself, but the proprietor, who surely could benefit from an elevation from hiddenness, does not benefit at all. Plus you pass up the opportunity to claim to have discovered a hidden treasure.