Fringe

It’s like you took a bottle of ink and you threw it at a wall. Smash! And all that ink spread. And in the middle, it’s dense, isn’t it? And as it gets out on the edge, the little droplets get finer and finer and make more complicated patterns, see? So in the same way, there was a big bang at the beginning of things and it spread. And you and I, sitting here in this room, as complicated human beings, are way, way out on the fringe of that bang. We are the complicated little patterns on the end of it. Very interesting. But so we define ourselves as being only that. If you think that you are only inside your skin, you define yourself as one very complicated little curlique, way out on the edge of that explosion. Way out in space, and way out in time. Billions of years ago, you were a big bang, but now you’re a complicated human being. And then we cut ourselves off, and don’t feel that we’re still the big bang. But you are. Depends how you define yourself. You are actually–if this is the way things started, if there was a big bang in the beginning– you’re not something that’s a result of the big bang. You’re not something that is a sort of puppet on the end of the process. You are still the process. You are the big bang, the original force of the universe, coming on as whoever you are. When I meet you, I see not just what you define yourself as–Mr so-and- so, Ms so-and-so, Mrs so-and-so–I see every one of you as the primordial energy of the universe coming on at me in this particular way. I know I’m that, too. But we’ve learned to define ourselves as separate from it.

Alan Watts

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Outside

It is outside season, fully, unabashedly. After our weekday workout and dog walk, we make espressos, extra hot and steaming, in my case, before heading to the porch. We plug in the fountain and are transported, a distant creekside, the burble and rush meditative and most pleasant.

Some days I clumsily pile books and reading glasses, settling in for the long haul. Juniper stays within earshot, until each coffee mug is thoroughly dispatched and licked good and proper. We puzzle – each our own. I read and plant gaze. I read and bird gaze. I read and sky gaze. I have a cooling snack. I might even nap if the elements are right.

Saint

I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.

Nelson Mandela

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Homemade yogurt! Greg and I are big fans and really hate all the plastic waste it entails, so I decided to make it with milk from a carton (better but not perfect). Rather hilariously, I searched the interwebs, tried a couple of slightly complicated variations in my giant Staub, with powdered starter purchased online, but neither was quite right. Then I found, on a comment thread for one of the recipes I tried, someone wondering if they did it “wrong” because they just used the “yogurt” button on their Instant Pot.

Friends, I am a frequent flyer in instant pot land, and never even noticed said button! Mix the milk with the starter, put the lid on, and press it. No babysitting while waiting for a certain temperature, for a certain amount of time, no keeping in an only barely warm oven to incubate. It’s amazing! I start it in the morning, then, just before bed, scoop about half of the finished product into a cloth bag over a strainer. It drains in the fridge overnight, and in the morning I have very dense yogurt and a decent bit of whey to use in recipes! I blend the dense bit into what finished the night before for delicious Greek style yogurt. Happy days.

In more button pushing, we had a great system for making rice on our gas stove. When we got the induction, we could not get it right (always crunchy, blech) and resigned ourselves to be a rice-free household. No big deal, as we don’t eat it frequently anyway. But then, well before the yogurt button, we spied it on the instant pot. We dad gum did it again (serious nod to AiC)! Of course it is great, and perfect each time.

How frequently it pays to observe the world with a bit of discretion, eh?

Now to our latest fun eats catalog. This is The Choi of Cooking (thanks Roy!) Green bean and chicken stir-fry. The sauce is his sweet garlic teriyaki, slightly labor intensive, but totally wonderful!

Somewhere on the web, I spied a picture of fish baked with crushed potato chips and was diggity down. Tastes like yum.

I love pudding, just about anyway I can get it. Except, traditional Southern style banana with vanilla wafers. Perhaps, if they were crushed moments before sprinkling on top, I’d be interested, but baked or layered in is just gross. Read: mushy. So, when I crave banana pudding, I candy a couple handfuls of pecans in some sugar, maybe adding a little ginger, and sprinkle them over top. Now that’s what I’m talking ’bout!

I made bagels! I’ve got some rolling and shaping to improve, but the texture and flavor was on point.

Gochujang marinated steak and salad with gochujang ranch. It’s a delicious theme.

Milk and cream braised pork chops! Salad!

I made pumpernickel and sliced it too soon! It was worth every bite. Also, did you know that much of the color and flavor is from cocoa powder? Chemistry!

We made open face fish sandwiches with the pumpernickel. They were the tops!

More pumpernickel! I also used the whey from yogurt making to brine chicken breasts, which is akin to buttermilk. They were the most tender I have ever made. Oh, and topped with Frank’s. Salad had apples and a nice vinaigrette.

Flank steak with miso gravy, homemade lemonade, and an approximation of coleslaw made with fennel and apples. Why an approxiation and not the real thing? I can not tolerate brassicas! Womp, womp.

When I was a kid, my mom made Brussels sprouts, and I became violently ill. Thinking it was just me being picky or maybe they were a little old, I bought them quite fresh, on a beautiful stalk, in Portland. I roasted them in butter and maple syrup, and topped the whole dish with bacon. They were so damn tasty, and I threw all of them right up. Case closed on the sprouts.

Not making any sort of connection, I ate roasted cauliflower, cabbage every which way, and my favorite broccoli in spicy garlic sauce at our local Chinese. I always got sick, but, but, but, I also always thought it was something else. Chinese food being rich, eating too much wheat, fill in the blank. Then, one not so fine day, I ate a big bowl of coleslaw, made fresh and perfect by yours truly and got awful sick. After literal decades, I put it all together and got very sad. So, only approximations, and what a difference!

Blueberry clafoutis. So good!

Turkey and brie burgers with homemade onion, shallot, and jalapeno relish. Good gravy was it tasty!

Here’s to eating…

The Moon

For he would be thinking of love – Till the stars had run away – And the shadows eaten the moon.

W.B. Yeats

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Happy Birthday, Stephanie!

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