Urban Assault Ride! AAAAAAH!

Temperatures predicted to be mid 90s instead of last year’s 104F, but I don’t think we’re ready to ride. It’ll be fun, though. Why is complete physical exhaustion doing something insane so absolutely worth it all? Heh.

Caged Produce

Caged Produce
Originally uploaded by carabou.

The year before it was the dogs.

Granted, the dogs were clearing out the kitty chocolates from the neighborhood colony, but still. No garden. Planted quite a bit of amazing potential and I think all we got were two cherry tomatoes and an eggplant.

Last year it was the chickens. They figured out quickly that clay doesn't "scratch" easily, but that non-soil in the square foot garden I set up was wonderful for digging and creating chicken-sized divots. I don't even know where the non-soil went ... it was magic. The only plant that survived the wrath of their claws was the strawberry I fenced in on a whim. Harvested more, but only because the chickens were still growing. They're almost a year old now, and they're cute little feet are now of Russian folklore proportion.

This year ... I'm trying a new tactic. Fencing in the entire square-foot system. They've already figured out that whatever is in there is delicious but so far haven't torn it apart yet. I'm waiting.

I'm also using egg shells (emptied, and with a hole pierced on the bottom) to plant the seeds. Still trying to convince the earthworms that my yard is delicious but in places where the chickens can't get them. Whenever I pull out the hand cultivator, the chickens come running. They're cute, but I have a lot to learn about negotiating for yard space with my little urban flock.

Oh, my that was cute

Danger just pounced on a blade of grass … and she caught it!

Happiness Re-framing

“DANG! I have a lot to do” = “YAY! I have a lot to do!”

WhoDat!

… and it’s not at all sunny outside so there is no chance for feelings of guilt for spending the evening with my butt on the couch. Woo!

Random Text sent to AC while listening to Geto Boys channel on Pandora

“Don’t push me ‘cuz I am close to the … Edge” – Grandmaster Bono

Home Ownership: What not to do

The first thing not to do: Don’t buy a home that is a “fixer upper.” It doesn’t matter how convenient it is to the bus stop, that it’s only two miles from downtown, that it’s in an area that is guaranteed to have nothing but an increase in property values, that it is INSANELY CHEAP for being such a large corner lot … Don’t. Just Don’t. Walk away … unless you are a contractor, married to one, insanely stupid, or willing to live in a “work in progress” for the rest of your sad, pathetic, and insanely messy life.

I pre-ordered and purchased the book associated with Gretchen Rubin’s Happiness Project  and have taken it on as my New Year’s resolution. I tried to host a happiness group, but there was some weird disconnect between what I perceived as the purpose of the group and where the group took it. So I bought the book and with eager resolve, started with Chapter One and all intention of actually doing everything on a month-by-month basis, as an art project or life hack or whatever you want to call it. The Happiness Book of Hours is where I ended up. January is all about energy, and reclaiming time and getting rid of those nagging bits of frustration and clutter. What a wonderful place to start, I thought, and decided to take care of three things that have been bothering us on our home maintenance list.
1. Get a new roof (the old three were finally leaking in the back)
2. Get gutters (Niagara falls over the front porch finally reached the peak of it’s novelty, and I’m sure there’s going to be another fantastic drought by August)
3. Finish up a majority of unfinished house projects.

This is just three things from the home maintenance list; my personal list is much longer and much more … personal.

So we got a new roof. Woot, that was fun. Three bids, lots of research, didn’t quite end up with what we wanted, but we’re not rich effs, so whatever. Apparently, unless you have enough money to sue someone, most contractors are willing to give you what they think you want (or what they’re willing to give). Either way, we got what we expected within a vaguely reasonable price.

Getting new gutters installed sometime next week. Dang! Gutters are expensive. And the company is cracking me up because we’re supposed to move all of the cable and electric wires. Um … that’s why we’re hiring you to do it. So, yeah. No. Just no.

And I’m in the middle of the beginning of finishing up the unfinished house projects. There are a lot of them, and they’re all up to me to finish because the N&D is trying to finish up his own projects. I have unstained wood waiting to be glued together, spackle on the hallway door frame trying to patch up where I removed the fifth door in a three foot hallway (seriously? How many doors can one put in a three foot hallway and still call it a hallway instead of some weird game room focusing on the “guess what’s behind door number seventeen?” question?), a box of tile in the kitchen, silicon seal in the bathroom, the address of the plumber etched on my forehead, paint samples all over the house, pictures from shelter porn taped on all the walls and and the reminder that yes, I did sign the paperwork on this house and no, there isn’t a back button. That crazy small house in Hyde Park that was 10K more with disgusting tile floors, no fence, no garage and a tiny lot, but all the work was done, suddenly doesn’t look so bad. How is it that my buyers remorse waits five years before it kicks in? And sadly, our house has almost doubled in property value (despite the lack of us actually doing anything to it), so it’s really not worth selling since every other house in this area has also doubled, and the only thing we could afford IS a fixer upper.

AHHHH! GIANT BUNNIES!!

Did I say it’s February but since I’m still working on my to-do list from Chapter One I doubt I’ll finish all the projects before the end of the year, that the Chapter-a-Month may actually turn into a Chapter-a-Year? This is going to be a long year. 

PeepDiddy and FiddyCent

Are so cute. We have urban chickens.

A poem for AC

Once upon a Peep there was a little time available. But it was only a little time -- a forgotten second lost somewhere between "put on socks" and "brush teeth". It snuck away in secret, but the little peep knew about it. "Peep!" it peeped. Then it went back to sleep. But I forgot to turn off the light. Will you?

smart monkey

Sometimes I think I'm just such a smart monkey, and then something happens that puts me back in my place. PO Box. Post Office Box. As in, Box of the Post Office which They Maintain and Provide Service. Of COURSE FedEx isn't going to deliver. duh.

Wobbling on my ethics

WOBBLE!!!! Yesterday I had an interview and I realized most of my clothes are either uber-corporate (from my uber-corporate suit days) or scrungy t-shirts. So I decided to buy a semi-nice shirt and a pair of shoes for an interview, but put it off until the last minute. I decided to buy something from a local store, not made in China, in a style I might actually like. I decided to go to Whole Earth thinking they would have a nice selection of bamboo and organic cotton clothing. Nope. Everything was made in China and most of it was sleeveless (not so great for interviews). Everything -- everything except the linen weird baggy thing I bought that was made in ... Lithuania -- was made in China. I bought some non-leather shoes thinking they would at least be okay, but Near and Dear pointed out the "vegan" earth shoes had cute little US flags stickers with the VERRRY tiny statement "DESIGNED IN USA" and, totally separated, in an out-of-the-way spot and in VERRRRRRRY small letters, "MADE IN CHINA." AGH! How can I support a store that actively sells novelty plastic tacky landfill items at the counter? Returning my purchases hurts the local store. But the items they sell hurt my ethics because they don't go far enough.

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.