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.