Been a long time

Wow. I'm in the chocolate block already. Tomorrow we make a chocolate box. Really. A box. Made of chocolate. One benefit of this class is I'm starting to OD on chocolate and I'm not as fond of it as I used to be. I can now eat just a tiny little piece, say "mmm. tasty." and walk away. Before, when confronted with, say, a chocolate pie, I'd have to eat until I got sick. Granted, a lot of that had to do with repressed emotional issues, but ... yeah. I lied. I can still eat an entire pie. Especially if someone makes it for me, I'm stressed out, and there's absolutely nothing else in the refrigerator except for suspect vegetables and a couple of dozen eggs. And chocolate. Did I say I was getting bored of chocolate?

Last night we turned in our candy bar creations. I made a "CARAT" chew. I was going to make it vegan and organic and gluten-free and all happy, but I never made it to the store. So I turned in a standard version and it was okay. Imagine a carrot cake as a chocolate bar. Yeah. Weird. I'm going to perfect the vegan version. I think it has potential. The surprising thing was the indian carrot paste. It came from one of Chef's old books. I modified it to make it tastier, but it's attached. The milk chocolate/anise ganache that went along with it was amazing. Absolutely amazing. I really want to get the book that it came from -- I think it was Jacques Torres, but I could be wrong. And I borrowed the Joy of Cooking shortbread recipe and added cardamom. I love cardamom. Enrobe it all in chocolate, and you've got my treat.

Indian Carrot Paste
4 T butter
2 tsp cardamom, anise each
8 oz carrot, grated
10 oz milk
5 oz sugar (doubled from original recipe)
a lot of almonds, blanched, peeled, halved
a lot of almonds, slivered
a lot of pistachios, chopped
a lot of seedless white raisins.

Melt butter, add cardamom. Stir over heat 2-3 min. Add carrots, cover, cook until soft, ≈ 15 min. Add milk, stir until all absorbed. Completely. It should be dry, dry, dry. Add sugar, slivered almonds, chopped pistachio and ½ raisins. Cook until shiny. I cooked until it was brown, and slightly caramelized, but took the temp only up to about 210. I was trying for caramelly and it didn't work. But it was still good. Spread evenly into buttered platter ½" thick. Decorate with halved almonds and rest of raisins. Let cool completely.

C is for CAKE!

C is for CAKE!
Originally uploaded by carabou.

This Pain de Genes is incredible. It's from our book, but it's soooo good I have to share.

This recipe uses a separated egg sponge method, and you'll need a mixer. And all the weights are in ounces. I have a scale I picked up at Target for about $20. Preheat the oven to 340. Prepare a pan (an 8" round or square) by brushing it with melted butter and pressing slivered almonds along the top and sides.

In your mixer, using a paddle, on low speed, soften about 3.75 oz of almond paste (just to break it up a little). Add in 2.5 oz of confectioner's sugar and continue to beat on low until the mixture resembles sand. You're trying to coat the almond paste (the fat) thoroughly with the sugar. No big lumps should be present. In a measuring cup (or a bowl), combine 2 oz egg yolk (each yolk from a large egg weighs on average .67 oz) with .8 oz whole egg (a little less than 1) and .25 tsp vanilla extract. Slowly add (in stages) to the almond paste/sugar mixture in the bowl. You don't want to add it all at once (it won't form an emulsion). Instead, add about a third, mix (on low) until it forms a paste, then add the next 1/3, form a paste and finish the same way.

Once it's all pasty, pour into a larger bowl, clean out your mixer, and whip 3 oz of egg whites to a foamy stage, then drizzle in 1.75 oz of granulated sugar and whip (using the whisk) until you've got "medium" peaks. The mix will still look shiny, and if you stop the mixer and lift the whip up, it will droop, but not fall off. You're not looking for a Dairy Queen cone if you hold the whisk straight up. Just a nice droop. You'll then fold this in to the almond paste mixture in three additions (be gentle! And don't wait until it's all mixed in before adding the next batch). Then fold in 2.25 oz of cake flour that's been sifted three times the same way (in three additions). Finally, drizzle just over 1 oz of melted butter (1.125 oz) into the mix and fold in gently.

Pour the whole thing into your prepared pan, sprinkle more sliced almonds on the top of the batter and bake for about 25 minutes (test after 20) until that skewer comes out clean. Cool in the pan for about five minutes on a rack, then slide a knife or something around the edge and finish the cooling process on the rack. Store at room temperature, covered. It's fabulous served with fresh, organic strawberries. And it makes an excellent french toast.

I'm going to be sick

This last pastry block really kills.

No, seriously.

We were working with gelatin, which in itself is disgusting enough on multiple levels, but I finally got around to trying to find the parent company for Cacao Noel (not so easy - they're French).

Through the distributor site, I was able to at least determine the country of origin of the beans. Cacao Noel proudly states they have a factory in equatorial Cote d'Ivoire. A previous roommate did her peace-corp service there, and aside from the stories of men being turned into chickens, the idea that the boxes of chocolate that we're blasting through are all the result of a likely chance of child slave labor (a 10-year old sold for $30?) hurts my very soul:

Following international media reports in 2000 and 2001 of widespread child labor abuses in West African cocoa farms, which produce 70 percent of the world's cocoa, the international human rights community investigated the problem. A 2002 joint study published by the ILO and the International Institute of Tropical Agriculture found that an estimated 284,000 children on cocoa farms in West Africa were "either involved in hazardous work, unprotected or unfree, or have been trafficked." Most of the children were on cocoa farms in Cote d'Ivoire, the world's largest cocoa producer. The remaining children labored on farms in Ghana, the world's second-largest producer, and in Cameroon and Nigeria. (Victims of Trafficking and Violence Protection Act of 2000: Trafficking in Persons Report 2007, US State Department, http://www.state.gov/g/tip/rls/tiprpt/2007/)

The industry stepped up rather quickly and forged an allegiance stating they would make the farms slave-labor free by 2005 (Harkin-Engel Protocol). Right. I can't find any follow-up report on statistics (although the one linked above is from 2007) stating what the current child labor statistics are, there is still no ban on child-slave-labor produced chocolate to the US, and knowing industry, this product we use hasn't suffered any harm from the aforementioned slap-on-the-hand industry self-regulated policy, if in fact they were using slave labor, which is probably the case since I can't find anything that says they aren't.

So what do I do? (Other than crosspost, of course)

World of Warcraft groomscake - kind of

World of Warcraft groomscake - kind of
Originally uploaded by carabou.

B&CD are getting married even as I type this. But me, who fell asleep last night while making a batch of brownies and totally burned them, managed to procrastinate just enough that I couldn't figure out how to make the warcraft cake work in the few remaining hours before we were supposed to leave to drive ALL THE WAY OUT to Cedar Park.

The original airbrush idea fell through and. although the backup looks passable, it only barely represents where I wanted it to go. My inspiration and desire are so much more advanced than my ability. I've been living in a digital world for so long that I'm betrayed by the lack of an undo button. Stupid autoshapes. Grr.

I am so glad they love us. I'll be the first to admit that I have sooooooo much to learn on my craft (but not warcraft -- that's a whole other world). Three more months before we start the celebration cake block. Three more months and I'll actually learn all of the techniques for putting together a wedding cake and fancy sugar flowers and towers of tempered chocolate. Three more months, and I will pwn pastillage.

If only they were getting married in November...

But I love them dearly, and they're getting married today in the rain and I still have to transport everything down to Bee Caves (in the humid rain - yay!) without destroying it too much (the N&D is crazy more nervous about this than I am). And I love them even more for letting me make one of the most important things about their wedding without worrying too much.

They're so cool. Love. Kittens. Rainbows. Pink fuzzies. All that.

Testing the tiers

Testing the tiers
Originally uploaded by carabou.

My first wedding cake! And LONG before we get to the wedding cake block in P&B, so I"m sure I"m making all kinds of stupid little mistakes as far as construction and time coordination.

But I have learned a lot. And this is kind of fun, but I realize why wedding cakes cost so much. There's a lot of structural engineering involved. And chemistry. Plus piping (as I'm learning from Chef Mary and Summer) is a zen-like experience that requires some sort of transcendence. Or perhaps just a shot of scotch.

Anyway. I was spending all my money at Whole Foods for the free-range, fair trade, shade grown, local, organic, preservative-free, local, holistic, enlightened etc. ingredients (because, you know, we live in Austin and that's just how we roll) before Casey-Dawn and Brian informed me that CostCo has a lot of the same stuff, and is much cheaper.

I am now a CostCo convert. It's like Target to Walmart for Sams. A little more trendy in the selections, not so much focused on the cheapness (in price) of the product as much as a lifestyle choice for the people who are shopping there. Dare I say a middle class Sams? We live in such a small house that buying things in bulk is silly unless we have a storage freezer.

Oh, wait ... we do. I stopped feeding the dogs raw, so there's no need to store 80# of rabbit and three cases of chicken necks in it. I'm not turning into a mormon, storing a year's supply worth of food, but if a case of paper towels ends up in the freezer, well ...

Central Market is EVIL!

When I was much younger, my mom had a giant fig bush in her yard that would annually produce fresh figs, preserves, filling for kolaches, and other delectable sweets. But mainly they would be eaten fresh, since the peak ripeness is so short, the flavor is so intensely subtle, and she would have to beat the wasps to the flowering fruit to enjoy the harvest.

I was five. And I didn't like them. Hate is a strong word, but the flavor was much too intense for me, and they had all of those seeds.

It wasn't until much, much later, when I was in college, that I found out that I actually liked figs. Okay, to be honest, I actually liked Fig Newtons. I would give blood once a month just for the cookie-and-orange-juice recovery to satisfy my craving for Nutter Butters since I didn't really want to buy them (I was on a limited budget, and I would rather give the money to the band tip jar than waste it on over-processed sweets). The blood bank was out of my favorite at one visit so I decided to give the Newtons a try. I was surprised at how good they tasted, although it could have been a craving for sugar since I had just given blood, but a post-visit purchase reaffirmed the change in my palate (seeds and all).

My love for figs emerged.

We're pretty lucky living in Austin because we can grow our own figs (and I plan to plant one once I find a suitable location). But we can also purchase fresh local figs at the farmers markets, small farms, and even grocery stores. Which is why Central Market is evil - in a good way.

Yesterday I went in looking for either a Meyer lemon or a fresh lychee (they had neither, so I bought a Daisy mandarin instead. Tasty! and it had the flavors I wanted to compliment my earl grey creme brulee for class). Right at the entrance was one of the CM staff foisting off warm figs centered with chevre, wrapped in pancetta and drizzled with honey. I'll use that presentation with dried figs or dates, and with bacon or gruyere, but the flavors were so amazing that I couldn't help snapping up a small bag of sliced pancetta, the figs, and the rosemary-infused imported honey (even though it wasn't local and we've got some good honey in the area, this particular jar was sweet, subtle, and slightly savory - perfect for the pancetta). I passed on the imported chevre for a local variety (which they were out of! so I got some that originated in Wisconsin) and looked forward to telling the N&D about the purchases.

Which he passed on in favor of the peanut-butter/chocolate cheesecake. He had that for dinner last night along with a hot dog since I was in class.

This morning I looked at the figs and tried to figure out how I could best take advantage of their yumminess, without making too heavy of a meal. Fresh - with a honey drizzle, sliced pancetta and ... something else. Here I had a dilemma. Pancakes would be too soft, biscuits or waffles wouldn't give the right accompaniment. I needed something simple, but different enough that it could be perceived as elegant. Popovers? I flipped through Fanny and found a recipe for scones. Of course! But I didn't have cream, so I substitute sour cream instead. Rich and amazing scones, and perfect for what I was after. I served medallions of the goat cheese instead of butter to spread, and put the whole thing on a plate and was amazed at how perfect it was for breakfast.

(and I started eating before I realized I wanted to take a picture, so it's a slice of life shot.)

Snakes and Ladders

Half asleep while I'm entering this. Not enough coffee yet, and dind't get much sleep last night.

Started classes again last night after a break, and we've got a bunch of prep work to do before each session. While the N&D watched "jeckyl" on the TV (a BBC show) I wrote out recipe formulas on index cards, and researched method for what we will be producing tomorrow. And I'm hitting the recipe books because not all of the methods are in the textbook and we're supposed to plan a timeline, too. So we didn't get to bed until long after 12:30 (and we're trying to get up at 5:30-6 to run).

As soon as the light was out in the bedroom (I'm reading a book on social class in England to complement my book on social class in America), I noticed Pico's stomache rumbling and grumbling. So I prod the N&D about food and what that crazy noise was (I had to pick up some EVO at Tomlinsons earlier and got a free sample of the raw medallion food from the distributor). Hope is doing fine, but poor Pico. She sounded like a gurgle machine. I wasn't too worried about it because I did the fast and gorge while raw feeding, so I know it's actually good for them every once in a while, but since she's on kibble, it's not so necessary to clean out the bones from the bowels. Then I noticed the security light was on next to the garage (actually, I noticed it when it went off). N&D let me prod him to go outside. But that took a while b/c then all the dogs had to go pee and do their doggy sniffy thing.

Also not sleeping well because of stress (even with acupuncture). The oven died last night and the N&D told me about it so I can get it fixed soon. I volunteered to make celebration cakes for friends and family next weekend. And we're throwing a lot of our spare cash at making the celebration cakes, fixing up the house, and the EV conversion. Plus we need to get some replacement parts for Kharmann Electra, and the editing job I've been doing has been going really slow because their scanning team sucks. Anyway, when I finally drift off (and have a horrid dream about adopting a ginger tabby that Chuy attacks and breaks its legs, and then while we're dealing with him and trying to decide if we need to rush it to the emergency hospital right then, and how we're going to pay for it, when Chuy (in the dream) eats the tiny kitten we're also kitten-sitting. Nice dream, eh?) when we're shocked by what sounds like a mouse getting strangled by a snake coming from our closet (not a dream. And I know the sound because I saw a mouse getting strangled by a snake at Natural Garden with neighbor while we were looking at their plants last year and getting an order of crushed gravel for the yard. Neighbor may be a golden gloves boxer, but does not like snakes). Esme is in the closet, but there is no mouse in either her jaws or paws. She's just staring at the corner. Again, N&D let me prod him to get a flashlight and shine in to make sure it's in the walls (I really don't think I could handle a snake in the closet. I've seen the snake. It bit one of the dogs on the face, a few weeks ago and it's HUGE!).

So we have a large snake eating the mice in our walls. It's a natural exterminator, but I'm really unsure what to do about this. I like snakes; I just don't want to share my living quarters with them. Mice are really destructive and we'd have to get them out of the house; most methods of extermination aren't guaranteed to work quickly and humanely. Especially after watching Ratatouille. So the snake is the most humane way of killing the mice, and once they're gone, it will leave, but I don't know if it will kill them fast enough (mice breed fast, and snakes only kill when they're hungry - even if they are large). And what if the snake has snakelings? And can I handle Chuy always trying to get under the house to get to the snake (he's already destroyed the side facing and we have a large tire, several pieces of wood and concrete blocks trying to keep him out. He's a strong, determined dog)? And then we'd have to send in an old lady who swallowed the fly ...

So that's my morning AGGGGH! And I just killed the third fly of the morning (still fewer than last year) and only drank about an inch of coffee in my caribou coffee mug. Why am I afraid of the day?

New Shirt!

I had an appointment today at my sliding scale acupuncture clinic that is two blocks away and fabulous. When I left, it was drizzling slightly. When I got to the light at Airport and 38 1/2 street, I was in a deluge. Tony and Paul were sooooooo nice and loaned me a pair of pants and donated a shirt to my drenched self. I was amused at the state of my own pitifulness. But such is the hazard of taking chances with the weather and not wanting to drive around in a self-enclosed box - especially for TWO BLOCKS. So the rain -- not my fault. Not thinking to take an umbrella or wear a rain coat -- yeah. I gave them a bigger donation than I usually would. They were really nice.

Even if you don't live in Austin, you should check out a community acupuncture clinic. Seriously.

No love for laminated doughs

This is another whiny-whine-whine post. Seems to be that kind of day. I don't know why, but I just don't care about this block at all. It could be that I really don't like mediocre danishes, croissants and puff pastries, or that the class is just too scattered and I don't feel we're getting enough actual feedback on how to make good product. Actually, I have a huge problem with that but I'm not going to be the one that whines about it, because in this case, sousveillance really doesn't matter. It's a certificate. I'm paying out the ass, but the more I talk to people in the community, the more I'm getting that the general student that comes out of the program is mediocre at best. And today I saw the infomercial. OMG. I could have produced better as a sophomore. In fact, I think I did. Plus, I really believe there could be more of an effort on what to look for to keep things from going wrong, more assistance with making superior product, less general -- I don't even know what it is. I know I'm more sensitive to this than a lot of people, but it's like there's a really bad feeling coming off of the instructors. There's too much -- hate isn't the word, but its not a good thing. Apathy? Ennui? It's hard to tell. And honestly, I really don't care. Maybe having culinary people teach baking isn't such a good idea, as they seem to think they're all rockstars. Hah! I've never seen someone burn so much stuff. At least three times a week. What are we supposed to be using as a gauge? And the lessons make as much sense as a crack addict. They're all over the friggin' place. My notes are toast, and I don't bother taking them anymore. If they meshed with the book or with a product that actually looked good, I might care more, but they don't. There's not even the knowledge that the convection oven and the convention oven are two totally separate things with a 25 degree difference in temperature. Okay. You're right. Ad hominem. Maybe I really just need a vacation. One more week and three days. I'm looking forward to it. I just hope I don't carry the disdain into the next block. Cuz that would suck. Balls.

Purging the evilness of US Bank

So I've got to purge the evilness of my last post, and I just happen to have some lovely mushrooms. They are currently whispering, "we want to be made into a sauce chasseur, and served with fresh homemade pasta!" How could I not oblige such a request? I don't have any demi glace, so it won't be as nice as it could be, but I don't think it will be difficult to enjoy. And it will give me practice on making sauces. Darn.

I'll recommend this recipe with the modification of using a whole, peeled, deseeded tomato instead of the sauce, and only use 2 tsp of butter at the beginning to soften the mushrooms and shallots, and use the rest of it at the end ("monte au beurre"). Also, don't forget to add salt and pepper with the mushrooms, after the liquid reduction, and before serving (to taste, of course). The brandy can probably get left out, too.

I read at one source that the sauce is meant for poorly shot game. It's still quite tasty.

US Bank SUxOR!

Just sent this to US Bank. It took seven days for a check to get from my house to their business; oddly, in just enough time so they could charge me a late fee (it usually takes four days). Then, gloriously, another six days and they still hadn't run it through through my bank account. So, of course, I called them to see if it was lost, if I needed to send another check. They were quite horrid. I was upset. The woman "service" rep couldn't manage to answer my simple question. What a dog.

I just had the worst possible experience from your phone customer service. I was transferred three times, with a long wait in between each because the person couldn't assist me with a simple question; when I finally reached someone, she was horribly rude. All I wanted to know was my current balance. She couldn't have been more rude unless she started to curse me out. I am horrified, and am quite glad I am able to close my account completely. Won't be doing business with US Bank; won't be recommending it; will be actively telling people how horrid it is. Thanks! Have a great day.

I don't feel better; I've written better stuff. But still. They suck. And I hate them.

Bake Shop Love

Last night I presented my petit four platter. YAY! It's done! I got some good critiques on what I was doing, and I learned a lesson: don't try things that you're not so good at. Concentrate on the things you can do, and make them absolutely fabulous. Yeah. I still made an "a" on the project, but it could have done better. The only thing that saved my butt was the fresh raspberries. Without those, my platter would have sucked balls.

Soapy macaroons

So I've decided on the flavor of the macaroon, but now I'm having problems getting the taste exactly perfect. I've settled for a french buttercream with creme de cassis, blackcurrant jam and violet syrup. However, after messing with the proportions, I discovered (nastily) that just a quarter of a teaspoon too much of violet syrup makes the whole thing taste like soap. And although these look quite nice, they are just a minute undercooked, or maybe it is just too humid today to make macaroons (and I'm also worried that the filling color isn't going to match the color of the macaroon, a requirement for the presentation, but instead of fretting, I am instead going to turn to my trusty vial of gel coloring. It's a resource and I've got it). I acknowledge that I'm still learning the craft of the macaroon, but the filling - there's the art, and there's where I'm having the most fun. Especially when I'm fatally determined to work with an idea that smells of soap. If I try lavender, there's a chance it will end up smelling like old ladies. My stubborn determination to make a purple-colored, flower-scented macaroon has put me in a lose-lose situation. But at least I'm realizing just how much I love creating flavors. I might scratch the whole buttercream thing and make a blackcurrant curd instead. Mmm. That might actually be quite good. And with a little Pimm's on hand ... Even better, since I doubt I'll be able to get any ube halaya, I think I'm just going to pipe some royal plum jam that's been slightly flavored with lemon and orange juice on them.

Macaroons come in all colours

Macaroons
Originally uploaded by TypeFiend.

Even blue. And you can't argue with a patisserie that's selling them. Even if I never get to make all of the flavors and color combinations, it gives me inspiration to make eating them a goal.

I still have so much to learn

I have found a new ideal. I tried to mimic a macaroon I'd never heard of before so couldn't try when we were in Paris (the Pierre Hermé Ispahan) and have quickly discovered that it might have gone easier had I not quartered the recipe. Or maybe I just still have so much to learn regarding technique. I have been humbled, but it's still pretty darned tasty (and Hope is following me around and licking my feet begging for another. She loves macaroons). Next time, no prosecco while baking, and maybe, just maybe, the rose paste will make the buttercream taste less cloyingly sweet. I had to settle on what the asian market had for rose syrup. I bet I can find better if I look around.

Petit Four Sec

We're working on a petit four platter, and have to come up with six different types: tarts, bar cookies, macaroons, madeleines, petit four glace, and petit four sec. I've been using Alice's Adventure in Wonderland and the croquet party of the Red Queen as an underlying theme (it hopefully won't be too obvious on my platter). My dry petit four is a cookie that I've done before, with a twist: White pepper in the cookie and nasturtiums picked fresh from my garden as garnish.

I speak severely to my boy,
I beat him when he sneezes;
For he can thoroughly enjoy
The pepper when he pleases!

The original recipe is on epicurious.com (cardamom butter squares). If you want my version, just let me know in the comments and I'll send it to you.

Bread formula!

Tasty. There are a couple of modifications I'd like to make, but this is such a wonderfully light bread. I'm happy with the way it turned out. I really like oat flour.

I should probably convert this to a more kitchen-friendly measuring system, but for now ...

Herbed Ginger Oat Roll

10.2 oz bread (wheat) flour
6.8 oz oat flour
11.9 oz basil-mint syrup
.17 oz rice wine vinegar
.51 oz fresh yeast (.21 oz active dry)
.34 oz salt
1.53 oz unsalted butter
.68 oz minced candied ginger
.17 oz lemon zest
egg wash, palm sugar, oatmeal flakes and lemon zest for crust

Basil/mint syrup

1 cup basil/ mint leaf combo 1 Tbsp lemon agave nectar 1½ cups water pinch baking soda

Place leaves in a pot of boiling water for about 10 seconds. Remove and immediately plunge in iced water bath. Remove, squeeze out excel liquid and puree with agave nectar, water and a pinch of baking soda in a blender for about 20 seconds. Pour through a fine strainer, pushing the liquid through with the back of a spoon. Add more water if needed to bring liquid to 10.2 ounces

Cool or heat the herb syrup to 90°-100°F and dissolve the yeast in the liquid. Put flours in the bowl of the mixer fitted with a dough hook with the yeast/syrup water and mix for about 4 minutes. Let sit for about 10 minutes in bowl. Add salt and vinegar, then butter a small chunk at a time and letting it combine before adding the next, minced ginger and lemon zest. Knead in the machine for about 5 more minutes. Ferment until doubled in size. Punch down and scale to half, about 16 oz; roll and bench. Shape using the baguette method, rolling out to 16-18". Proof until doubled in size. Snip dough with scissors at a 45° angle about 2” apart and almost all the way through dough. Separate out alternating sides and press into side near bottom. Brush with egg wash and top with grated palm sugar, oats and zest. Convection oven at 375°.

And I feel my vitriolic bile regarding that person has subsided enough to remove the post of hatred. I still can't believe it happened, but out of sight, out of mind. Too bad the cookies I'm making burned because the "compose" feature of blogger totally rewrote my code in an evil way. No out of sight for that. I was going to take them up to the acupuncture people. Oh well. That was my last egg, too. To the store, C!

Adventures in bread!

I've been playing around with making a new bread formula in my head for the past couple of days. Everyone in class has been coming up with some great ideas; it's nice to think that we're already being given the chance to create new foods (rather than just learning all the the desserts from 1950). I was going to make a s'more-inspired loaf, but realized that it's spring, and I didn't really want something sweet and chocolately (with marshmallows!) in this heat. So I pulled out my acupuncturist-recommended book and started looking at flavors that are seasonally appropriate. Spring is wind, birth, green, sour, East, and wheat and oats, although the book then said that a good spring mix is pungent and sweet. I'll never quite figure it out. It's like Chef says: "Bake it until it's done!" *sigh*

So I'm in the middle of making a spring-inspired loaf based on a baguette recipe (I like the crustiness of the baguette, although I might go with the more tender ciabatta base if this doesn't work out). I've made my liquid a basil syrup, as it's fairly sweet and will hopefully give the bread a hint of green without being disgusting, with rice wine vinegar, salt and a mix of sweet rice and wheat bread flour. I added a roll of candied ginger to one of the loaves; I've got three types of rice flour (fun at the asian market!) and bought three types of candied weird flavors, including tasty olive (not so much); preserved jujube (I had to actually spit that one out); black rice cake; and something that had absolutely no English on it other than the importing company. I have no idea what it is.

Batch 1, Loaf 1: Glutenous rice ball. Ew. Flavor is too subtle. Nice crust, though. baked at 425 in a steamy oven on a pizza stone.
Batch 1, Loaf 2: Second loaf from glutenous rice ball, with a ginger core and an egg wash sprinkled with palm sugar and grated lemon zest. Too much ginger, and the texture is still pretty disgusting. Rice flour is like corn starch. Mmmm. also baked at 425 in a less steamy oven (on a pizza stone)
Batch 2, Loaf 1: I reduced the rice flour and added in some water chestnut flour (it doesn't help. Chestnut flour looks like tapioca and although it has a little more structure, acts the same as rice flour). The bread flour ratio is still 60:40. I wonder if it would be different if I were using clear flour ... I wonder where the average consumer can get clear flour ... can they? Used a more processed basil syrup (but still with agave syrup. Rolled "xoi nep than" into the dough in three stages (first at the first turn, pressed down, second at the second turn, pressed down, third at the third turn, pressed and pinched). It came out quite nasty from the oven.
Batch 2, Loaf 2: Pretty much the same as above, except instead of the black rice cake, I used preserved golden jujube and only in the center roll (it was still a little too strong for me). Egg wash on both (I like the egg wash) with a dusting of lemon zest and palm sugar. Dawn suggested this would be good with a richer pork dish.
Batch 3: Last batch is half oat flour (which I didn't have so I blended some instant oats) with the rice flour and processed the wheat flour with the yeast before adding in the other two flours. The courseness of the oats eases the gumminess without taking away from the softness that the rice flour offers. I like a soft crumb, but I don't want to add shortening or egg. I also didn't use the basil syrup, to see if it adds or detracts. It adds. Didn't get a chance to play around too much because of dinner plans. But I like the texture of this bread and the flavor of the ginger.

Conclusion: Rice flour is sticky. The basil and ginger make a lovely combination, with a pinch of cayenne to counter the sweetness. The snip pattern is very cool. It would be an excellent loaf to put next to a salad of lightly sauted scallops (in a rice wine and sesame oil mix) and served next to a fresh microgreen salad (baby romaine, maybe some fresh pear and cherry tomatoes, thin slivers of other vegetables (fresh beans, etc.) and served with a light vinaigrette. The subtleness of the ginger and basil is perfectly refreshing in this experiment.

Now let's just hope Chef thinks so ...

I love Esme.

So my sweet surviving cat ate some of her kibble this morning (don't worry - it's not any that was recalled. And I know kibble is bad, but she'll eat it as opposed to all of the other foods except for really really really crap food). She ate her kibble, and she must have eaten just a little too much of it, because she started to gack it up. I heard her. Except this is how much my kitten loves me. She gacked it up in the litterbox. I love her.

And on a not quite so disgusting note, I get to make up my own bread recipe in class using the guidelines for the bread formula and all of the ingredient functions we've been learning over the past week. The seven functions of egg. The five functions of salt. The nine functions of sugar. And yeast, oh, yeast. Our sourdough starter (named Mr. Bubbles in honor of the starter that sacrificed itself to another class's clumsiness) is quite the -er- lovely (yeah, that's it) glob of nastiness. I can't imagine anyone would think, "Hey, lets COOK with this." But then, I also don't understand duck confit. Or chocolate covered ants. But maybe that's just me.

Challah back, girl!

I feel sad that I didn't make it to a friend's Cinco de Perro celebration this weekend (oddly enough, on the 5th of May). The oppressive weather, and the oppressive pile of things we've been avoiding (including laundry, cleaning, mowing the lawn, shopping for food, bills ... you know, all the normal things that normal people generally keep up on) were all waiting. Plus Lasso stopped by to work on his ev conversion and I really felt uncomfortable saying "hey, we're going to go drink with friends, see ya!" to him. So we mowed the lawn and worked on the chicken coop instead. It will be finished one day (I hope). I'm certain I won't be able to get chickens when it's finally done. *sigh*

But on a lighter note, we've been exploring the richer doughs in the culinary bread block. Our practical this Friday will be challah and brioche. I chose the "star" braid as it just seemed easier than the 5-strand braid. Call me crazy. Weird, but if we do a good job on it, we'll even get extra points. Don't know why. I think it's easier. But you have to work quickly. I think I have it down, but I've never seen any star braids but my own and the others in class. It's still pretty. And this isn't even a Char picture.

Mycology

We're making breads in baking class and everything is very yeasty. We're even making sourdough starter from water, flour and squished grapes. Yum. My partner, sweet little thing that she is, named ours "Monostat". Other names in the class are "Mr. Bubbles", "Yeasty Boys", "Lucille DoughBall" ... you know. Cute names. Chef wouldn't let us call ours Monostat, so officially it's "The Vampire YeaStat". But we call it Monostat for short. Yup. Fun Times! Anyway. So with all of the rain, and yeast on my mind, I walked out with the compost this morning and saw a huge fungus growing next to the gas meter. I'm not a mycologist by any means (although I do likes me some fungus on my pizza -- mmmmm), but I think this might be Suillus Cavipes - which has "mediocre" edibility. Except it was growing under a gas meter, not a larch (and for some weird reason, I now have a Monty Python sketch running through my mind). Whatever it is, I'm still not eating it. But it is kind of cute, in a fungus-y sort of way.

Birthday dinner

Tomorrow I'll be in class, so Aaron and I celebrated my birthday dinner a day early. Went to Doña Emilia's - an argentinian casual dining place across the street from the Four Seasons - as Chez Nous (my fave) is closed on Mondays. Tasty chimichurri, but it was a little too oily for my stomach. Aaron loved the ribeye, and there were a couple of other things that looked intriguing. The mashed potatoes had -- bacon! and the green beans were incredible. However, the nice part - and I mean come-back-for-again nice - were the happy hour prices. Half priced appetizers and drinks from 5-7. Well worth going down just for that. We ended up spending a bit because, well, it's my birthday, but didn't order dessert as I made myself a tart. No, I didn't tart myself up. Silly. I was going to make a chicken cake (never mind), but decided I wanted a tart instead. Pretty! Too bad the only fruit at H.E.B. that looked good were the kiwis, strawberries and blackberries. A good start, though.

Garden in the works

Spring has brought surprise in the garden. Tulip petals taste like beans (or peas). The dogs will eat anything. The amaryllis bloomed and is gorgeous (testament in the picture). So did the lilac. The poppies came up in both places I planted, and some seeds remained in their original planting and also came up. Snapdragons are fun. Slugfest on the pansies. The petunias are going crazy. And my little bottle garden has inspired another neighbor to drink too much wine and put one in. Decadence for the sake of beauty. I also told her about the Orange Show. Everyone needs a little Orange Show.

Last post .... EVAH!

Intentionally going out of your way to hurt someone and their relationship with another person is not "high-schoolish". It's just hurtful.

Ashes

I never posted my Nuncle story. I just picked up their ashes. The ashes are in separate bags, in purple velvet pouches, in wooden boxes. Each comes with a certificate of cremation and a little plastic plaque embossed with their names.

I think it's the only time an animal person has spelled all three correctly.

My razr wasn't that dirty

So Sunday, after the horror of finding our cats dead, AC was nice and started washing the urine-and-blood covered laundry I had piled in the office, including the clothes I wore to carry the bodies to the emergency clinic.

Unfortunately, my phone was still in the pocket of my hoodie.

And he washed it.

I did everything I could, including taking the razr apart (I had to buy a T6 and T5 size screwdriver), but, even though I was able to get it to start, it wouldn't recognize the sim card. Not even ACs. So I'm getting a new one thanks to insurance. I don't think it's worth it (I have to pay $50 and the new phone is going to be reconditioned anyway), but this will be the last razr I own. I've had bad luck with them.

At least I'm not getting a replacement pink one. I asked the first time if I could get a silver, and the Cingular rep said "no" so I declined the replacement. I had AC call the second time, and the service rep said "sure". Sexist Cingular rep (the first one, not the second). She sounded like she was 12 anyway. I really wanted to tell her off, but I'm not really in the mood yet. I'll be getting a new phone on Wednesday. And it will be the silver one (again). Small, but it makes me smile a little.

Taki and Tsuki

Pillow
Originally uploaded by carabou.

Taki ("dragon") was a fierce kitten, and the biggest attention slut of all. He would meow in the kitchen. I would give him dry food. He would meow again. I would give him a can of wet food. He would meow again. I would give him fresh water. He would meow again. I would open the front door for him so he could go out. He would meow again. I would pick him up. He would snuggle up underneath my chin and purr.

Tsuki ("moon") was as big as the moon and just as unreachable. Small kitten from next door would come over and they would play the slo-mo version of chase. When Tsuki ran, though, he scurried. He once scurried around the corner to the kitchen, lost control, put his claws out for traction, but the mass of his body and the hardwood floors worked against him and he slammed into the wall. He left claw streaks etched into the wood across the length of his attempted stop. And he would give the most amazing purr-bys.

I miss them.

My cats are dead

We came home this morning from Brian's 35 birthday celebration to find the dogs had killed Taki (in the office), and Tsuki and Nuncle (in the living room). Esme is alive. She was in the kitchen, hiding behind the coffee maker. There were bloody paw prints all over the dishwasher, so she was next.

Cheese Board Lemon Shortbread Cookies

I learned a new lesson about sugar and spread in cookies today.

I wanted to make a treat for David and family to return with the cookbook he loaned me, but they spread too much and got too brown. They're tasty, but they don't look so fantastic, and they're a little on the crispy side, and not enough on the shortbread side. My first thought as to why was because I added too much sugar, even though I followed the recipe (even making my own candied lemon peel because I couldn't find it in the store. Candied lemon peel is deceptively easy to make. I've found a new treat).

So a little research (and some knowledge I already knew) pointed to the observation that sugar weakens the bond in the gluten, and this was a short cookie anyway (even though i used all-purpose flower, it was mostly butter and sugar -- very soft dough). So too much sugar will interfere with the structure of the cookie, but so will finer granulations. Because I inadvertently turned the sugar into powdered sugar when I was incorporating the candied lemon peel, I guaranteed ruin of the shape of the cookie. Next time, I'm going to add a little cornstarch, as that will theoretically prevent spread in a cookie, despite the finer grind.

Next time, better.

Cheese Board Lemon Shortbread Cookies

• 1 cup + 1 Tbs sugar
• 3/4 cup candied lemon peel
• 1 cup unsalted softened butter
• 3/4 tsp kosher salt
• 1 2/3 cup unbleached all-purpose flour

Preheat oven to 350.

Combine the sugar and candied lemon peel in a blender or food processor. Be brief! Or try adding a little cornstarch - how much? I don't know (yet). In your mixer, combine the butter, sugar-lemon peel mix, and salt for about four minutes (until fluffy). Don't forget to scrape down the sides when done. Then, on low speed, add 1 1/3 cup of the flour and combine for about two minutes. If the dough isn't soft enough, add the remaining 1/3 cup about a tablespoon at a time until it is. Not sure what that means? I took it as "it's raining, so I'll need the rest of the flour". The dough was battery before I added the remaining flour. After I added the flour, it glonked around the mixer paddle.

Put the dough on a lightly floured surface and shape into an oblong (yes, really). Then roll out with a floured rolling pin into a rectangular-ish shape 3/8 of an inch thick. Cut into 2 1/2" squares (huge) with a floured knife or ravioli cutter (I don't have a ravioli cutter, but the pizza roller was fun) and transfer to a a cookie sheet covered with parchment paper at least an inch apart using a spatula that has been lighlty floured first. They suggested that the recipe would fill three sheets. Not mine - I just got one. Not sure what when wrong there, but it may have affected the cooking temperature of my oven, too. Anyway. 15 minutes in the center, turn, and another 10 or until lightly browned. Cool a little by placing the sheet on an inverted cooling rack. The cookies are really soft and will burn you if you try to eat one. But they're really good with a cup of tea (try Republic of Tea's Botswana Blossom Red Tea. Yum!)

Happiness Lifehack

i love it when things just flow together, and I haven't had that happen in a while. I feel like I slogging through a mire of cellophane wrappers (real cellophane, not that cheap petroleum based polypropylene stuff). So I was doing one of my random "that seems interesting; I think I'll google it and see what it means" searches that comes out of editing pages from weird books, I found out about the Happiness Manifesto lifehack (the BBC has a whole lifestyle section on this, including an easy-to take test to discover happiness levels. And there's recipes, too. Because recipes make people happy). There's even a group following it informally on 43 things, and my new obsession is 43 things

And writing of 43 things, I love the idea of setting up self-imposed punishments for not meeting my publicly-declared challenge. I heard on NPR (I think) about a group of people who swore they were medically incapable of losing weight, but when threatened with having pictures of themselves posted naked on the internet (taken with their permission, and the study was started with their permission to post if they didn't lose weight - always read the fine print, people), these same study victims managed to drop some poundage. Crazy that. Although I did get chastised for suggesting that I might really want to eat a worm if I don't get the worm bin up and running. I don't really want to eat a worm, even with the recipes in the back of my worm book. I ate snails in Paris. I discovered they're just carriers for butter and garlic, and I much prefer bread or mushrooms for that. In fact, mushrooms have pretty much the same texture and consistency of snails without the creepy knowledge that they once had eye stalks. Eye stalks kind of freak me out.

yeah.

Yummers!

So dinner was from a new cookbook. Fish en papillote with fennel, thyme and olives (but not sea bass, because they had lasers on their forehead, were $24/lb, and the Central Market guy had a substitute that was just like seabass for half the price); crushed cauliflower with bear cheese, and asparagus with orgasm butter lemon sauce. Central Market must have had their artisan baker quit, because their bread suddenly sucks balls. The rustic bread had fine holes. Not rustic at all. Last week, we bought bread and the chef must have mistaken cup for teaspoon, because it was salty like a seadog. Enough Complaining!

Crushed cauliflower, modified for two:

6 cups water
Kosher salt
1/2 pound cauliflower, separated into medium sized florets
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/8 cup finely grated parmesan reggiano (or chunked extra sharp bear cheddar cheese
pepper (freshly ground, preferably white, although I don't keep white pepper around, so black works fine)
cayene pepper (my addition - if it's got cheese, it can stand a sprinkle of cayene)

Pour the water into a large, heavy bottomed pan, add 2 teaspoons salt and bring to a boil over high heat. Add the cauliflower and cook about 10 minutes. Drain.
Return cauliflower to pot and cook for 3 minutes more over medium-low heat to evaporate excess liquid. Why? Because he said so. Add butter, oil and cheese. Turn off heat. Break up the florets and mash with a potato masher, or if you're me, two wooden spoons, while you tell the story of not knowing what that thing was that your friend gave you because your mom never used a potato smasher, and your husband's mom used a pastry blender. Who uses potato smashers? Season with salt if you want, pepper, and if you're me, cayenne, and a dash of crushed thyme to meld with the fish. Yum!
Transfer to a bowl and serve hot. I transfered to a steel mixing bowl I got at IKEA and put on the back burner of the range so it got the heat of the oven as the fish cooked. The bowl was nice and hot and kept the food warm without drying it out.

The boy said, "Cheddar and cauliflower? OMG - thank you."

It's a keeper. And it helps if you consume an ENTIRE BOTTLE OF WINE!
gah.

Pan's Labyrinth

Don't read this if you haven't seen the film yet. And this is brief so don't read it as complete as I haven't fully formed all of my arguments, I just want to get it down. But yeah, she died.

It's a great film, but I've been thinking about the imagery, and the symbolism. Ofelia's first discovery of the dual identity with Princess Moanna left her with a sense of pride, and pride is the first of the seven deadly sins. At that point, she was already human. The image in the well was of the faun holding the girl with a baby. Didn't happen: the captain took the baby back. Ofelia failed her promise to trust the faun without asking questions and her promise to her brother that she would take him with her and make him a prince. And all of the other deaths were delusions - the captains desire to pass on the legacy left by his father - denied; the mother's desire to take care of her family - denied (especially with the hints that the captain was the one that caused the death of the tailor); the death of Ofelia was the death of an innocent past. I don't know much about the Spanish Civil war, except for the glorious propaganda of Hemingway and Gramsci, but she represented something other than an innocent child. Maybe the delusion of being able to maintain belief in a dream instead of facing the reality of utter failure. Dunno. Could be.

I will be watching this again. Imagery keeps coming back to me - the editing of the chase through the forest where trees are used to make the captain's troupes jump around in the frame. It was a brilliant way to disturb time and space. I also want to reexamine the train scene where the lights/screens were manipulated to give an otherworldly sense of dusk/dawn. The technical was nicely executed. And this was so much better than Hellboy (not that I didn't like Hellboy, but this was just better.)

Another Texas Charmer

I didn't expect, so soon after going to the Ann Richards memorial, that I'd wonder if I wanted to go to the Molly Ivins memorial (with a gathering at Scholz Garten afterwards - how fitting). I used to read the Texas Observer diligently, and have always loved Ivins' ability to turn the Texas legislature into the object of mockery that it deserves. Sad day. I remember when I was studying at Mojo's Daily Grind (I think it's Kasbah Coffee or something even more ridiculous now), I overheard a blonde scrawny thing complaining about a woman in her class: "She's like, a *feminist*". And she spat the word out like it was an insult. I wanted to slap the blonde scrawny thing, and remind her that unless she was there to get her M-R-S degree, the only reason she was at the university was because *feminists* made it acceptable for women to express their opinions and get educations. Ivins had that Texas charm that, like Richards, could have made that girl feel both shame for being so stupid, and for expressing it in public. I just piss people off.

You will be assimilated

Yesterday I went over to my neighbor's house to help out with Flea stuffing (our neighborhood newsletter is called "the Flea" in honor of a large cat colony that used to exist on one of the streets). I mentioned that I stumbled into the artisan baking class at TCA and he immediately loaned me a book from The Cheese Board Collective (he lived in Berkeley for a while). Yum!

I'm working my way through the history and the basics, and am looking forward to trying the recipes. I'll post my findings as they appear in the kitchen.

Outrage

Just hit one of the blogs I lurky-read. The first story made me want to post because I've downloaded enough to the boy. Having been raped at 16 by a total stranger (my first sexual experience), this causes bile to rise up in my throat and makes me want to scream. Seriously. WTF? A woman was raped, then thrown into jail? (It was a clerical error. She had no reason to be there.) And then she was denied a prescription to keep her from getting pregnant because the jail medical examiner had a personal problem with it? I spent time volunteering for NARAL and TARAL, but it seems more than a few men need a firm kick in the balls. And some women, too. Wouldn't it be great if there was a rape awareness day and every man and woman who had been raped or sexually assaulted wore a pin that said "Rape survivor". (Actually, I think I'm going to start a campaign because there IS a Sexual Assault Awareness Day!). And the first google link is for the Florida Council Against Sexual Violence. *snort* the woman's story above happened in Tampa. Seems they've got a bigger problem than they think.

Random Random Random Senseless Practice

(The second week of February is Random Act of Kindness week. I hate that bumper sticker, but really love it when people mutate it into other messages.)
One of the things I do that doesn't actually bring in any viable income but is still fun because of the randomness of it all, is proofreading OCRed documents for a company that contracts with major publishers for online document search retrieval. I'll edit a Christian marriage counseling page, a page from a children's book, and then a page of soft-core erotica, then a math book page. Great for keeping the brain non-linear, and I get to play with my weird ability to immediately spot the typo in written text. (I inherited this ability from my super-human mom, and until recently, just used this ability to constantly criticize myself. So this is a slightly lucrative use of a power for good, and not evil.)

For the most part, I don't get involved in the content, but I sometimes I'll proof a page that compels me to read the rest of the book. Rarely does the publisher omit the author or the title of the book from the layout of the individual page, but it does happen, and I'm left fumbling with half-finished novels in my head that will never be completed. So far there's a fictional biography of an icelandic punk band, a sci-fi series that I think I can track down, and an autobiography of a person who did a tibetan monk thing in England somewhere and has a funny writing style that I adore.

So yesterday afternoon I had a conversation with my fabulous neighbor about our ability to convince ourselves that we're worthless by listening to others trying to beat us down and turn us into something they think we should be, and not who we really are (a common enough occurrence in our media-inspired culture, I suppose). She went back to the gym and I sat back down in front of the computer and immediately ran into a great (para)quote in that tibetan monk book I happened to get to proof a few pages: I choose my own direction. And however much I may wobble in reaction to others, I keep my direction steady.

Half.com conflict

So I'm in the middle of a weird little conflict with someone that purchased a book from me on half.com. I didn't realize when I bought the book at Book People, that some ass had decided to rip a few pages out. So I, in my naiveté, listed it as a complete book. The buyer recognized this and sent me an email demanding a refund, thinking that I had ripped the pages out. This was a logical assumption, since that was the first thing I thought he did. But it cost 2.15 to mail the book media mail, and with the commission and packaging, the book I listed for $5.00 really only brought in about $2.50 in profit (the idea of commission and postage being separate from the value of the book is beyond the buyer). Since that's only about a fifteen cent difference from postage, I'm going to end up in a no-win-no-lose situation for no reason (I seriously doubt half.com will give me money for return postage - they're a business, not a charity. A concept that is also lost on the buyer). So I asked the buyer to neither waste his time nor mine, and get a faster refund, by not returning the book, destroying it and providing proof of that destruction. I even suggested he do it in creative ways. This is beyond him. I'm guessing this isn't a lesson in patience for me, but instead is The Ganzfeld desperately trying to tell me this guy is too repressed to own a copy of something that's an expression of creativity.

Dog fence span completed (almost)

Yesterday was an amazing combination of complete laziness and getting things done. AC made biscuits and we watched Veronica Mars for breakfast. Then he watched another Netflix movie while I did a bunch of random things, including attacking the growth on the fenceline. I got enough of it out to convince him to make a span of wooden dogfence, and when he finished it, it looked so good, I pizza&beer bribed him to do the last span to the cottonwood. I'm afraid of the cottonwood: this is the tree with the poison ivy trunk that's larger than my two hands fisted together. Avoidance! Avoidance!

So since I pulled the bribe out, I had to call for delivery. I hate papa johns - their sauce tastes like corn syrup - but besides Conan's (which is way too expensive for what you get) and Eastside Pies (which we weren't in the mood for -- the crust is too crusty), they're the only pizza that we know of that delivers to our house. I wouldn't have minded carryout Slices & Ices, but I wanted something different to remind myself why we like them. So I went on a pizza hunt, looking for a place that wasn't evil that might possibly deliver to our area. Austin's Pizza looked promising. They won a "best of austin" award for delivery from the auschron, so they might deliver eastside as most of the staff at the chronicle has lived over here at one time or another. I called. Nope. At least the guy was highly apologetic (we're about two miles away).

But I can't figure out why this myth of eastside Austin still prevails. It's quite cush now. I remember when cops would pull you over if you were white and driving east of IH35 after 8pm (mainly because it happened to a friend from the coop - and yes, he was actually trying to buy something illegal), but that's been decades. Seriously. AC and I were trying to figure out how we could best share our disdain for having to pick up our own pizza (which we really didn't mind, since he wanted to get beer, too), and he decided to write a letter. I suggested rather than pulling out the "I approve food orders for our events and I'll never shop there again!" whine (since it would be hard to really enforce - he has frequent lunch meetings there), that he instead do the "I would think Austin's Pizza was a little less racist than that" tactic. I doubt it will work, but I can still highly recommend the Bacon Pizzaburger with Fat Tire. Yum!

Friday mini-vacate

As planned, I drove to San Antonio Friday afternoon to pick up AC from his conference. Did I mention San Antonio drivers suck? We found the McNay (after taking a long and circuitous path. I *so* hate that city. Who plans a city around a friggin' circle? At least the mormons have it down - identify temple square and name the streets ordinal from there on a grid. Not a circle. Once you figure it out, you'll never get lost in Deseret - I mean, Utah. Oh, and never tell the story of the bulimic seagulls at an airport waiting for a plane going to Salt Lake City. Duh! Sure to be someone who doesn't find it as amusing as you).

At the recommendation of one of the docents at the McNay, we ate at a pretty tasty little sandwich shop called the Twin Sisters on New Braunfels - not as good as NeWorlDeli, but what is? Their parmesan bread was pretty amazing, the waitor was pretty funny (and obviously recognized his regulars). The soups left a little to be desired, but we're spoiled for soup. I should post my celery soup recipe - it's not for the faint of heart.

Once fortified, we were back at the mansion. I had been there when I was in high school (and saw pages from the first edition of Tom Phillip's A Humament - incredibly instrumental in who I am now. Art is best explored in its original form - not in a book, especially when it is a book) but AC had never been. So we walked around for a couple of hours, talked with the guards, and did a wonderful job not spending any money in the gift shop. It's a great museum, intimate without being overwhelming. It has representative pieces from artists, great for student field trips, but the exhibit that blew me away and left me with tears in my eyes was Jacob Lawrence's Migration Series (showing as part of Black Heritage month). Wow.

I did something right in a dog fight!

Maggie posing as a "good dog"
Originally uploaded by carabou.

Woo hoo! OK. Let me clarify. I'm not woo-hooing because Maggie jumped Pico. In fact, I feel kind of stupid because I figured something like that would happen, but I was really hungry and I was busy scarfing down half a can of kidney beans while dispersing cheers. My bad. Anyway.

It's a fantastic day, and I didn't want Pico digging up all of my worms and coming back in the house with a filthy nose, so I had her in the kennel for most of the day while I worked in the garage. Sorry A - it was driving me crazy. I wanted to take the trash out since the bin was full, and ended up doing more than I expected. Anyway. I decided to take some time and play with Pico and Hopus. I put Maggs and Chew in the back-back yard (we seem to have developed a complicated back yard system) and threw a toy for Hope. Pico ran around, peed twice (sniffed a lot first), and took a very large poop (which I cleaned up, thankyouverymuch mrC). It was fun, but I tired out Hope and she started to get a little grumpy toward Pico (I think she sprained her rear leg when I had her jumping and twisting in the air. She's amazing twirly dog!). Then Pico didn't want to run around any more because Hope was grumpy. So I thought I'd run in, grab a bite, and then do the doggy shuffle, but leave Hope and Pico in the main back, and Chuy and Maggie in the back back.

Bad idea. Kind of. I had the kitchen door open, and when person-walking-by triggered dog barking frenzy, I heard a dog run by the door and back again. "Huh? -- there shouldn't be any dogs there" so I peaked my head out the screen door and saw Chuy, but no Maggie. Crapola. Maggie probably jumped the fence and is now in the same enclosure with the dog that she has caused more than 5K worth of damage in at least three separate instances. Yay.

So I open the back door to the dogroom. And Pico runs in. A HUGE no-no, and Maggie, being the enforcer of all rules (she's very fascist that way), jumps Pico in the office, on the rug, next to the pile of books I'm trying to sell. I am sooooo happy Pico already did her bidness -- all that came out was a tiny little turdlet that I stepped on after the mess was over (I was wearing a sock. It's now in the trash and there's pee-eating enzymes on the floor where it got smushed).

So my long rambly story is now to the "I did something right!" part. What I didn't do: Panic. Yell. Scream. Pour water on the dogs. Rush around like a frantic person. What I did: I put down my bowl of food (I was eating a half a can of kidney beans, remember? Although, for a split second, I really did consider throwing it at Maggie, but how kidney beans would deter a fight is now beyond me. Glad I didn't - one less thing to clean up). After I put down my food, I put down my chopsticks (hehe). I grabbed Maggie by the tail. Still not screaming, I pulled. I didn't say anything, I just pulled Maggie away from Pico. Thankfully, she let go (I didn't get a chance to tether Pico to anything, so she was on her own).

Quick survey: no pee or crap everywhere and Pico is free. I'm still holding Maggie by the tail, and she's snarling like a mad dog (frothing at the mouth and grrr!) Pico, sweet little stupid thing that she is, is sitting there, wondering what the frack she should do. I am so glad we trained Pico to go to her kennel. "Pico! Kennel" (stupid dog, I'm thinking - but she's not alpha, and has no idea what to do, so it's actually good that she waited for me to tell her what to do. It's my job.) Pico heads out to her kennel in the living room and I reach behind me, open the door and very calmly shove Maggie outside. Go to the living room, check Pico over (she's slobbery, but no damage. Whew!). Walk back to check for a more thorough pee-poop check and step in some. Take off socks and throw away. Let in Chuy, let in Hope. Walk around with Maggie for a little bit to reaffirm my alpha (and she's really doing it all right - walking behind me, totally focusing on my face. I ignore her, but demand she come out with me while I'm taking out the recycling). Let her back inside with me (and yell at Hope for jumping over the couch and eating all the cat food).

Then I realize that I don't have a headache, nor despair, nor melancholy. Maggie just attacked Pico and I didn't lose it. I actually handled it in a way that didn't cause more damage to Pico (unlike the previous times when I yelled and screamed, which I realized afterwards caused more damage b/c Maggie thought I was encouraging her - she's such an obedient dog. If only she weren't so rule-bound). So I'm happy in a weird sort of way. And I'm proud of myself. So, yeah, I'm bragging. But in a weird sort of "my dogs aren't really well-behaved" way. Which is perfect, because it makes no sense. Just like me.

Snopes has a picture gallery!

I like snopes, but it's not one of those sites I look at every day. I usually only use it to refer people who send spam as they were one of the first, and are still pretty active, and -- they've got pictures! I'm not so keen on the gruesome bits, but the one that really cracked me up was a pic of urinal art. I though, "Oh, the stupid fly target again" (which is clever, btw, but since I'm female never really appealed to me). Not that. In fact, not that at all. I almost sent it via email to some people I know, but resisted -- oh ... so ... hard ... -- cuz if it's on snopes, it's already been emailed too much. So I put it here. (And the shopping bags are pretty cool, too.)

Quinoa recipe from my acupuncturist

lightly toast about a cup of quinoa in ghee until it starts to pop and smells really toasty. Add in about the same to double of broth and some peas and chopped red and yellow peppers. Cook like rice (bring to boil, then simmer low low low! with barely any flame for about 20 minutes). TaDa!

Argh, A Restaurant Drink, Limey!

I have mixed feelings about Saba Blue Water Cafe. We went when they first opened, when the warehouse district was just on the edge of being the urban scene it truly is now. OK - I lie. It was pretty hipster then, but I was better paid, better dressed, and much younger (but never a hipster - swear!). They were one of the few places in town that knew what a Mojito was, and theoretically, how to make it. I tried to make one at home, but couldn't really figure out the "muddling" bit, so I wanted to compare it to a "real" one. I'm still no expert, but I decided I like margaritas more.

Mojito

• 3-4 fresh lime quarters (like, take an organic lime? and wash it? and then cut it into quarters? Right?)
• 10-12 fresh sprigs of mint (and I used spearmint, which is what I had at the time. There are so many types of mint, I bet this could really change the drink. I bet lemon verbena would also make a killer replacement. Mmmm. I love verbena.)
• 1/2 ounce simple syrup (easy enough to make - but it takes an hour. Don't burn yourself, and you may want to consider adding flavoring to it if you think you want the extra kick
• 1 1/2 ounces white rum (I'm not a big rum drinker, and the boy likes spiced rum - I'd probably just use plain Bacardi, but if you know more about rum, get what you like. There's tons of rums - lemon infusions, raspberry flavored. I bet vodka would also work fine and I really like my Hanger One vodka)
• soda water (not coke, just the carbonated water stuff you get at the drink mixer section)
• Ice

Add limes, mint and simple syrup together in a 12-ounce glass. Pestle (really - that's what it says. Probably mean "muddle") together with 5-10 downward twisty motions (or muddle, if you know how to do that). Add the ice to the rim of the glass, and alternate adding rum and soda until the glass is full. Shake two or three times (the glass - in a shaker if you were smart and put the ingredients in a shaker glass) and serve. Don't forget to strain the mint leaves. No one thinks green stuff in your teeth is attractive.

It's in the eyes

So I was watching an episode of Dead Like Me on the sci-fi channel last night that I hadn't seen before (which is weird, because I rented the DVDs, but it's been a while and I'm easily distracted) and a new show is previewing that I thought I might want to watch - the Dresden Files. Looks dark, looks like a good carrier for some cool stuff. I ended up recording it to the DVR, but it was not necessary. (GAH! THE DOGS WON'T STOP BARKING AND WHEN I WENT OUTSIDE TO SEE WHAT THEY WERE BARKING AT - CONSTANTLY BTW - HOPE JUMPED ON MY KHAKI-COLored pants (yelling PICO really loud seems to have calmed me down a little bit) and now my pants have four dog-foot smears on them. Lovely).

Anyway. I started thinking about all of the webstreaming of tv shows and how they've got a directed target (I caught up on Vanished and was both annoyed and amused at how they require you to watch an ad before seeing content). So in my inbox this morning, I find a link in my Benton Foundation communication update to a Reuters article regarding an analysis of TV shows being watched on teh internets. The Benton synopsis made me laugh: [Nielsen stressed, however, that watching TV on your computer does not make you younger, smarter or more affluent.]

darn.

Another Door, another Drink

I haven't been to the Cedar Door in a while -- something about avoiding trying to find a place to park and the fear of the overpriced downtown crowd. But I found the recipe for their absolutely delish Mex Mart, so I may not have to worry about this anymore. Mmmm. Mex marts. If only they had Migas and Fajitas, I could avoid going to the frat-packed horribly loud Trudy's ever (but then, I actually like Trudy's, so I can deal).

CD's original mexican martini

• 1 ounce Sauza Gold tequila
• 1 ounce Hiram Walker Triple sec
• Freshly squozed lime juice (Central Market sells non-pasturized freshly squoze in convenient pint-size containers in the produce section)
• splash of both orange juice and sweet&sour mix

Combine the ingredients in a 16-ounce pint glass chock full o' ice. Shake well (the glass) and serve in a salted rim glass (they recommend one of those Marie Antoinette boobie champagne glasses, but any ol' glass'll do), and garnish with three green olives on a miniature pirate sword pick and a wedge o' fresh lime.

You'll recognize the template

I took this amazing workshop with Liz Belile when I was in grad school (although, because of the mess of teaching and learning, and the politics of accusations and money disbursement that was going on with the faculty at the department, I had to stop going to the workshop to save my sanity (although losing it happened anyway. My shrink totally sucked. I needed tools to cope with what was happening then, not to revisit the rape that happened in high school, or retell all of the "poor-little me" stories from my childhood while holding a human-kid-sized doll and sitting on battery cables - yeah). So I never performed my pieces but that's okay because it was still a cool workshop). Anyway. Liz has a new blog up for people who can't take the workshop because she's put a hiatus on offering it until she's got a kiddo. So go and take a look at it. Now!

(and san antonio drivers suck.)

Beautiful Day!

Yesterday I worked in the garden in a short-sleeved shirt. Amazing. 65 degrees, sunny, beautiful. We took Chuy, Hope and Maggie out for a short walk (just around the neighborhood) and enjoyed the beauty of the day. We thought about going to Town Lake, but decided not to waste gas (we could bike, but there's too much glass/debris on the road there for the dogs' paws). My new goal - walk all four dogs at the same time. Maggie hasn't had the opportunity to go for Pico's throat in a while, and I like to live dangerously. (Just kidding. I would never do that. I would like to be able to walk them all at the same time, just with Maggs and Pico on opposite sides of the two sets of legs holding the leashes.)

An update on the cats: Taki has taken to crawling under the cover with me when I get into bed. It's a little creepy and a little cute at the same time. He's gotten incredibly demanding when it comes to my attention/time/space. Right now he's in my lap (he demanded his way there). It's really cute, but poor Esme and Nuncle aren't getting any me-time. Eh - not true. Esme still sleeps on my head (which is great for my asthma - let me tell ya) and Nuncle hangs out on the desk when I'm working. He's there now, leaning on my stack of business papers I have to sort through. It's a good thing he's so cute, because it would be annoying if he weren't.

I had a dream last night that he had a tortoiseshell coat, with green on the head. And that all mathematicians had to run 4-minute miles. What an interesting combination. There was another long complicated movie dream, but I think it was just a recreation of Children of Men. The main thing I remember was a synchronized blackening with spraypaint of all of the security cameras in the world.

Turquoise Rita

Once, when I drank in public more because I had a horrid job working for people who's only mission in life was to be well-dressed, I asked for a "blue drink." The bartender, since it was slow, amused me and himself, and came up with a drink he called "Windex." I don't think I've ever been to Z'Tejas. Or, if I had, I don't remember it. But if I had, I'm sure I'd remember the Turquoise margarita.

• Rose's lime juice
• 2 ounces Patron Silver tequila
• 1 ounce blue curacao
• 2 ounces sweet and sour mix
• 1 fresh lime wedge
• Coarse salt
• Ice

Pour a little Rose's lime juice into a saucer or shallow dish, and coarse salt in second dish (about 1/8" deep). Dip the rim of a pint glass (the 14-ounce pilsner variety) in the juice, and then the salt. Set aside.

Fill a shaker with ice, and add tequila, curacao and the sweet and sour mix. Cover and shake vigorously. Pour the drink and the ice into the salt-rimmed glass. Squeeze lime wedge into the drink and plop it on in to drink.

I 'm warm.

I 'm warm.
Originally uploaded by mikapon.

I borrowed the picture from mikapon because I don't have any new pictures of anything vaguely normally. Aielli did a search on "cold" - so far we've got Muddy Waters "Cold Weather Blues", Guy Clark's "Expose", and Crosby, Stills and Nash "Cold Rain". Yep. It got turned off. Guess I need to charge the ipod battery.

Today is "catch up on everything I haven't done yet" day. A five day vacation was nice, I suppose, but I didn't really get much done. I could have been editing, but then I would have felt even more snow/ice bound than I did, as I would have been in front of the computer all the time.

The N&D is off to work. The dogs are outside, the cats are asleep on the bed. It's all back to normal.

Another Wintery day

cold seat
Originally uploaded by carabou.

Either we're getting bored of the cold, or it's warming up. No half inch of snow like weatherman predicted, but it's still cold and slushy outside. The dogs are going crazy in the house, so I turned on the electric heater in the dog room and put them out. They've got fur coats, and when we take them out for a run later, they'll already be acclimated to the cold. We're loving the names the news stations are giving the weather. "Ice Storm 2007!" If it freezes again, I wonder if it will be "Return of Ice Storm!"

I turned the thermostat (turned? No, actually, I punched a button) down to 68. I can breath easier with the cold, and it makes the cats more affectionate and snuggly. Nuncle and Esme were growly toward Tsuki this morning, so maybe I need to punch it down a little lower.

I have an acupuncture appointment today, but I'm hoping it's canceled (even though I walk there. I don't want my acupuncturist to drive on the ice. He's got kids). I'll call later to see. Got emails from most of the family. They're all doing okay (for the most part). The N&D needs to call his family to see how they're doing and to wish the MIL a happy birthday.

Snow day!

Snow!
Originally uploaded by carabou.

It's snowing! It's actually snowing! We're inside being lazy. I really want to see Children of Men, but don't feel like taking off my pajamas. hehehe. There's lots of people walking by our street, more than I've seen in a long time. I even emailed my dad to let him know it was snowing, and uploaded a silly video (with no sound) to youtube. I've seen snow before (drifts and mounds), but it's fun to see it in Austin.

Worms!

It's actually freezing outside. Wow.

Yesterday I spread some pea gravel on the side yard because the rain that is happening all at once rather than taking several months to descend turned it into a muddy mess. It looks good, but eight bags didn't make it all the way to the Pico fence (we have to lock her out of the side yard, otherwise she digs up all of my plants to sleep as close to the back door as possible. Plus, I got a little tired of troweling in pansies and finding large turds. Fun fun fun). So I'm braving the sleet and rain and writing "get more pebbles" on my list of things to do. I'm debating whether I want to visit the large home supply store just for pebbles. I might, but it's still under consideration.

I also added two bags of mulch to an unfinished project because I realized I've been deflocculating (I think that's the word) a spot of clay next to the dog room. I'll admit I'm too lazy to finish the greywater tank, but I really need to get on it. I've got the design, I've just got to get the motivation. Freezing weather is not motivating. (update from near&dear - "The ice is building up on the Subaru.")

I've started a new goal for the year. I'm going to eat vegetables from the garden (instead of being fascinated by the eggplant and tomato, I'm going to eat it).

And I'm going to grow worms. I've got the plans set out, and made of list of things I'm going to need to make it work. I've grown them before, but there was a die-off when our house-sitter firmly placed the lid on the interior worm bin while we were away, thus suffocating them. Poor things. We came home to dead, dessicated worms all over our kitchen floor. It was rather depressing.

So -- worms, veggie garden, and side yard. It's freezing outside, and I'm doing what I should be doing: making plans.