Quiet Night

Making Scalloped Potatoes to serve with a semi-Salade Niçoise for dinner, to get ready for the Yom Kippur Fast. (We're starting a little late, but tant pis.)

May any of you who are observing have an easy fast.

Dancing

So I felt the inspiration, and between kneading my bread dough (challah yum!) and emailing and reading webcomics and playing with the cat, I got out my choli, skirt, and coin belt and danced. I hadn't for a while - my old studio is of course in Boise, and I loved Mearah - she had a good, very positive atmosphere, where I didn't feel like an orca trying to shimmy. I can't really afford it yet, but I'm starting to look around online for local studia where they teach raqs sharqui that isn't too fancy-schmantzy über-skinny tanned super-cabaret, but reasonably authentic, reasonably priced, and maybe reasonably close.

I miss dancing. luckily, I have lots of time alone in the apartment to do that, with only the cat to watch me with alternating fascination and disdain, but I miss the camaraderie of being the Wednesday night class. We even had a name . . . I can't remember. Desert Flowers? Desert Breezes? Desert Winds? Watching Oksanna's beautiful hand motions, even though she'd never come stand up front.

I never even got to perform outside. :(

Mmm.

I'm eating the same thing for 'lunch' that I did for 'dinner' last night. Pizza-bagel with cream cheese, baby carrots, and an apple. I wish I had three oreos in a plastic baggie, then this would be almost like junior high.

And lots of water and the delicious ladytea DBF* got me. Their website is down for some reason. Which is a shame- it's fun to play around in.

*Website all better! View here: http://www.yogiproducts.com/
*In case somehow you never quite got this, 'DBF' is 'Darling Boyfriend'.

Hazards of Love

How has it been this long? This album came out . . . in March. It's September. That's half a year. I got to the Crane Wife within three or four, I thought. It's funny how much you jump on things based on who you're around.
. . .
. . .
Bad choice of words. But it's true. When I was hanging around a big indie-music buff, I was learning so much about music coming out now. Well, then. When I was dating a guy really into sixties and seventies stuff, I learned about that, and while I half-kept up with the Decemberists and Of Montreal, I haven't heard or looked up anything about the Arcade Fire, the Flaming Lips, Interpol, any of the bands I was learning about then.

Anyway, Hazards of Love. This is, if anything, perhaps the ultimate Colin Meloy. The man is meaner than Joss Whedon to his lovers, (I mean the lovers who exist in his songs, for all I know he as Miss Ellis, his ladyfriend/maybe wife? and illuminatrix, have a nice life.) and his music itself has gotten heavier and heavier with each album. Most of Five Songs and Castatways and Cutouts could have been written in the 19th century, and you wouldn't know the difference, except for some strange mid-20th-century references. Maybe The Tain really let him explore those metal bands he loved when he was a nerdy adolescent, blending it with his lovely folky lyrics and reedy, nostalgia-soaked-wearing-a-flat-cap-and-suspenders voice.

Anyway, the usual star-crossed lovers, set sometime between the middle ages and the early 20th century, magic ghosts, drownings. (Colin loves to drown his characters. There have been a few stabbings, a poisoning or two, some deaths in childbirth or exposures of infants, two who presumably expire in a pitched battle inside a whale, and at least one off-screen shooting ('July! July!'- the uncle, who "was a crooked French-Canadian who was gut-shot running gin". And yes, that's a more or less direct quote. I love this band. But mostly, drownings.)

But Margaret, our ingénue, sings to the throbbing bass and some kind of guitar on track four - her light melody floating over the beat as if she didn't know it was there. 'Won't want for Love' will probably be my most-sung song for the next bit. Lyrics here.

William (her shape-shifting boreal lover)and his mum, the Forest Queen have an awesome duet as well, where we get to hear William's theme for the first time (The Wanting comes in Waves), interspersed with the gorgeously theatric 'Repaid'. William, over a slowly, tortured harpsichord(?) just sounds Colin-y, slightly, well, not atonal, but . . . anyway, a near-arpeggio of repetition as the back-story comes out. Then the drums and wall of guitar comes up, and off he goes into the stratosphere, his longing almost a palpable instrument.

Then up comes a meedly guitar thing that reminds me of (darker, more metal) the helicopter-like sounds from the beginning of 'Damned for All Time', from Jesus Christ Superstar. And in a rôle evocative of some of the great Broadway villainesses (from Rock opera, anyway), the Forest Queen spits out her rebuke, loving each caustic syllable, rolling it around in her deep, luscious tones like Tim Curry's Frankenfurter (go watch it- I'll wait. It's probably been far too long since you've seen it, anyway. Probably mostly NSFW, depending on where you work. ;) ), just relishing every word, it's so much fun to sing. I'm vamping more to this bit of this song than David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust and the Stones' Beggar's Banquet (which includes the incomparable for dirty, grinding dancing 'Stray Cat Blues'.) But seriously, I dare you to not want to sing along with her, every time she draws out that "And now . . . this is how I am Repaid!"

'The Rake's Song', on the other hand, seems like it might be the first laid-back thing to come along, a nice mellow(ish . . .) return from our Interlude. If you don't listen too close, it sounds somewhat upbeat, and the 'Alrights' almost fool you. (Until the freaky background-singing children come in like the chorus from some Dickens/Bosch mashup.) But this is Colin Meloy, so applying the tale of multiple, unrepentant infanticides into easily the most danceable track on the album shouldn't be too much a surprise. I mean, for heaven's sake. The lyrics are reminiscent of Voltaire's gleeful 'When You're Evil', though this is one time when someone beats Colin on theatricality. Go watch this one too. Well, listen.

And I won't tell the ending, but no doubt you've guessed. Anyway, if you like theatrical neo-folk bands, inching their way toward metal-influenced concept albums, give a listen. apparently, I love them.

Pizza Stone woes

So DBF has a pizza stone. When I first saw it, it had lots of caked-on nasty and I thought to myself that I had no interest in that thing whatsoever. But I like to bake, so yesterday I took a chisel and some time on the balcony and tried to chip much of it away. Then I opened all the windows, turned on all the fans, set the oven to 500 degrees F (as high as it goes), and baked the thing for nearly two hours. I got used to the smoke smell pretty fast, but DBF was blinking back tears when he got home from work. All the other-colored stains, etc had turned black. Some were ashy black, some greasy nasty oil-black. I let it cool anf swept off all that I could.

So I want to make bread on this thing, but had no intention of wasting the time, effort and yeast on a challah braid if the bottom was going to be awful/disgusting anyway. So I whipped up a no-yeast pizza crust, brushed it with oil, sprinkled on mixed herbs and let it bake. It looks fine. It looks rather lovely, actually. The question now is whether it tastes all right. I'm worried about a smoky, ashy flavor. I can smell the smokiness, but that may just be the stupid oven itself. So I wait for it to cool a bit, then I'll check. Here's hoping!

Knitastic

So, becoming bored of/frustrated with my Mindflayer doll, I turn my eyes (and needles) to a shorter, more instantly gratifying project. The Minisweater is a vaguely Georgian/Regency looking number, a single-buttoned sweater with short, slightly poufed sleeves which ends just below the bust. Too much Jane Austen recently? Probably yes.

Plotting and planning for Changeling, cleaning the oven and pizza stone with extreme heat, going a run (I cheated a bit today. /lame) and knitting were the prime objectives of the day. And all pretty much happened. Bread will just have to be a tomorrow thing.

And I passed my Drivers' Test, so am officially temporarily licensed in California, and will get my permanent card, complete with sleepy-looking Girl Scout picture on the front.

Frugality

So, Having cooked my delicious Pomerantzen (which are drying, dusted with sugar, at the moment), I was left with a citrus-infused sugar syrup (orange and lemon {non-plural chosen to avoid bringing that creepy nursery rhyme to mind.}). And I remembered that DBF and I were talking about how expensive maple syrup is, and Mapleine has proved hard to find here, to make my own. So I stirred in some more sugar, the juice of both lemons, and a splash of orange juice, along with a little bit of real vanilla extract, and cooked it a while longer. Then voilà, pour into an empty glass bottle. Citrus-vanilla syrup. I tested it on a sliced peach, and it was wonderful. Of course, the peach was also wonderful, but I could detect the delicate syrup flavor as well. Success!

Pomerantzen

Or candied citrus peels. I love these things. Love them, love them. So today, in the heat of the day, I'm hiding inside, watching 'Allo 'Allo, an English sitcom set in Nazi-occupied France, and candying the peels of oranges and lemons. Leftover faux-chicken soup with Quinoa and red bell peppers for lunch!

Miracle Grain

This stuff is awesome.

I'm going to make cheese-and sun dried tomato-filled fried quinoa patties with butter-herb sauce, Curry Spinach and Quinoa, and work on a quinoa-and-breadcrumb stuffing that can be baked in a casserole and served for Thanksgiving.

Maybe some No-bake Quinoa haystack cookies, with coconut and melted butterscotch chips and cornflakes, or with puffed rice cereal for Passover. Oh.

Is Quinoa Kosha for Pesach?!?!?!?!?

YES!

Not quite as good as a level, but who am I to complain?

I have obtained items:

Oven Mitts
Pot Holders
Flour and Sugar Canisters

*NEWSFLASH*

A Sacramento-area woman's recent attempt to forcibly remove the foot of her boyfriend met with little success, a steak knife proving insufficiently sharp, and wielded with insufficient force, namely, being allowed to fall from the counter. Authorities are unaware of any plans to continue these attempts, and the woman in question seems contrite. The injured man abstained from pressing charges, and is able to walk unaided.

Exercise

Exercise. Yup, I'm doing it. My third run in one week this morning, and I think it's getting easier. Hard to tell, since I was a lazy slump over the four-day weekend, using the smoke and the fact that I slept in until it was too hot to run as my horrible excuses.

But I feel good this morning, and am looking forward to swimming this afternoon. I'm turning into a gym-less monkey.

Adventures in Mock Meat: Part One, Epilogue

No. No, not at all. it had the right level of firmness, but the texture was nothing like. Maybe I bought the wrong stuff. Maybe I didn't knead it well enough, or long enough, or simmered it too low, to short a time. But I think we can call recipe one a failure, or at least this attempt.

And I'm off mock meat for a moment anyway, as I marvel over the fact that I actually bought and cooked squash. And ate it. And my Darling BF did too, and they were delicious 'breakfast' burritos, as he read aloud doggerel (catterel?) aloud from T.S. Eliot. And, of course, Full Metal Alchemist. Which remains absolutely awesome.

Adventures in Mock Meat: Part One, Addendum Two

So I simmered the seitan for well over an hour last night, and it seemed to firm up well, expand as indicated, etc. It was . . . slimy, though. I soaked it a bit on paper towels before placing the 'cutlets' on aluminum foil and freezing them, and they left a thick, floury sludge behind. I'm starting to worry if what I bought from the Bulk section was not vital wheat gluten but a high-gluten flour, which would still have that starchiness in it. Hm. But neither Safeway nor the Co-op seemed to have anything marked simply "Wheat Gluten", despite the guy on Youtube insisting it's common enough to be bought at Wal-mart, of all places.

If it is straight-up Gluten, I should try again, maybe frying it this time instead, or baking it. Anyway, the taste test happens tomorrow, I imagine, as we have swimming class this afternoon/early evening, and I know I won't want to cook anything as complex as a theoretical-seitan-based-developed-from-what's-in-the-house dish.

Apartment To-Dos

I need a teakettle. Boiling water in a saucepan takes longer and is harder to pour into the teapot, let alone a cup. Having boiling water available will help with making bouillon for soup, seitan, etc. as well.

And sweet baby Moses in a basket! We need bookshelves on which to put these books. Boxes and boxes of books. Most of the West Parlor could be cleared if only the books were put away somewhere. Probably in the West Parlor, but at least it wouldn't be boxes. I am tired of boxes. Not as much as I am tired of rented trucks and car-carrying hitches, but quite a bit.

I need to obtain or make oven mitts. So far it stands Me: 1, Oven/Stove: 6. Even with me flying solo against a tag team, that's still not very good.

I also want to line the drawers and cupboards. They are clean, but I always am sure that the dishes will stick to the paint. A bit of contact paper and a few hours of swearing will greatly ease my mind on that account.

And I feel I should make myself an apron. But I have no sewing machine and no ambition to become a hand-sewing virago of awesome.

Best Apitherapy Ever

I've been warned by many natives that Sacramento is a veritable Mecca of allergens. I nod, thank them for the warning, and smile to myself, as apparently whatever stuff they have here just doesn't bother me. The palm trees, citrus groves, giant succulents of awesome don't have bothersome pollens.


But, to prevent growing allergic to my new home, I've begun a steady regimen of natural medicine, namely daily walks through the green, shady streets of midtown/east sac, taking in the gardens of the bungalows, Craftsmans (there are several Buffy houses in the immediate area), faux-Spanish homes, etc. Also, every other day or so, I get a big spoonful of histamines, cunningly neutered by the busy activity of our friends Apis mellifera.



The Co-op stocks local Wildflower honey- raw, unfiltered, and uncooked*. This stuff comes straight from Mr. Lienert's bees to me, and I eat it on toast, and one big spoonful of the stuff, to help my body get used to delicious pollen. This stuff is made of seven-times awesome. New favorite thing.

*Most commercial honeys are heated to above 140 degrees, which kills the antioxidants and and enzymes that increase immune functions, and lessens their natural anti-microbial qualities.