Saturday, July 1, 2006
Fireworks, not
Tonight was the biggest fireworks display in the Midwest. It takes place every year in a park 1/2 mile from us. We thought about walking up the hill and watching it from the mobile home park where a lot of people set up lawn chairs every year. But the thought of Ulysses running around in the dark in that big crowd near the main road and possibly getting away from me scared me. And if he got lost he couldn't even talk to explain to anyone who he was and where he belonged. Maybe next year he'll be mature enough for us to go. So we just stayed in and he watched some old cartoons from the 30s, 40s and 50s while I did stuff in the kitchen. Then out of nowhere came a big lightning storm with huge winds that blew our stuff right out of our yard! It started up around 9:15, right around when the fireworks were scheduled to go off. A freak incident. Nature's fireworks.
Smokin' Butt
This post still needs links and pics. The original Blogware post
A few weeks ago, Don saw a Good Eats episode where host Alton Brown, a fanatical do-it-yourselfer, constructs a smoker out of terra cotta flower pots, using a hot plate and a pie pan for heating wood chips and a round grill to suspend the food. He's been talking about it ever since. Then he sat me down and made me watch the episode, too (he had recorded it). "After you watch this, you'll want to do this right away!" he said. He was right.
So we've both been excited about this and laying plans to built this clay smoker contraption for our long weekend together around the Fourth.
The Fourth is on Tuesday this year, and I have paid holiday from my wonderful job where they actually respect workers; I also requested, months ago, to take Monday off as well.
A four-day break! The longest we've been home together for a long time. Don took a few days off from work last summer when he was still at Union Cab, the sham workers' paradise. He had a few hours of paid time off, about a day's worth, and the rest was unpaid. (The managers gets two weeks' paid time off in a year; the drivers sweat to earn a few hours over the course of a year. A workers' paradise! How again, exactly?) The unpaid-ness of the break lent an underlying strained quality to it, because we couldn't really afford the time off, although we needed it so desperately.
Anyway. Four days off, without any cut in pay. Woo-hoo! It is a tremendously relaxing sensation.
The cut we used is the same as in the episode, pork butt. Alton purports to explain why a cut from the top of the shoulder is called the butt. However! As you see if you check the transcript, he really doesn't. I read years ago that butt, or Boston butt, is so named from the stout wooden barrels used for packing it back in the day. The meat came to be known for the name of the container.
A quick check in my Merriam-Webster's 12th tells that "butt" meaning a large cask has been in use since 14th century Middle English, coming through Middle French butte and Old Provencal botta from the Late Latin buttis. That's the same Late Latin word that gave us "bottle."
By contrast, "butt" meaning the part of you that you sit upon is short for "buttocks." That usage also dates from Middle English, but it has a different derivation: Low German butt, meaning blunt.
Twelve hours in the smoker! The sky threatened rain -- not good when you're using a hot plate outdoors. But the weather held. We put an eggplant in there, too, and I made baba ganoush out of it later. Boy, that BG was some strong stuff, with all that smoke flavor. You had to wait a day for all the garlic and smoke and all to settle down together before you could enjoy it without being blindsided by it.
The pulled pork was tender and flavorful as promised. Worth the hassle? Yes, yes, yes! We can't wait to do it again! Pulls apart easily by fork or fingers. We shredded it and served it on on buns with my favorite cole slaw on the side.
Don on the taste of the Q: "It was definitely smoky. And the smoke was all through the meat. It was that warm smoke taste." Tender! If only the meat were a little fattier, I think, it would have come out jucier. Damn those low-fat enthusiasts and their pervasive influence on... on much too much.
Here's the official recipe for pulled pork on the Food Nework site. It doesn't capture the crazed essence of Alton tinkering with his homespun food tech projects. For that, you need to visit this Good Eats fan site. You can navigate to the episode named "Q," which contains the flower pot sequence, here. Astoundingly, this guy has transcripts, complete with scene-by-scene screenshots, of nearly every episode. Something like this is really essential for following a Good Eats plan. It's about a lot more than just a recipe.
A few weeks ago, Don saw a Good Eats episode where host Alton Brown, a fanatical do-it-yourselfer, constructs a smoker out of terra cotta flower pots, using a hot plate and a pie pan for heating wood chips and a round grill to suspend the food. He's been talking about it ever since. Then he sat me down and made me watch the episode, too (he had recorded it). "After you watch this, you'll want to do this right away!" he said. He was right.
So we've both been excited about this and laying plans to built this clay smoker contraption for our long weekend together around the Fourth.
The Fourth is on Tuesday this year, and I have paid holiday from my wonderful job where they actually respect workers; I also requested, months ago, to take Monday off as well.
A four-day break! The longest we've been home together for a long time. Don took a few days off from work last summer when he was still at Union Cab, the sham workers' paradise. He had a few hours of paid time off, about a day's worth, and the rest was unpaid. (The managers gets two weeks' paid time off in a year; the drivers sweat to earn a few hours over the course of a year. A workers' paradise! How again, exactly?) The unpaid-ness of the break lent an underlying strained quality to it, because we couldn't really afford the time off, although we needed it so desperately.
Anyway. Four days off, without any cut in pay. Woo-hoo! It is a tremendously relaxing sensation.
The cut we used is the same as in the episode, pork butt. Alton purports to explain why a cut from the top of the shoulder is called the butt. However! As you see if you check the transcript, he really doesn't. I read years ago that butt, or Boston butt, is so named from the stout wooden barrels used for packing it back in the day. The meat came to be known for the name of the container.
A quick check in my Merriam-Webster's 12th tells that "butt" meaning a large cask has been in use since 14th century Middle English, coming through Middle French butte and Old Provencal botta from the Late Latin buttis. That's the same Late Latin word that gave us "bottle."
By contrast, "butt" meaning the part of you that you sit upon is short for "buttocks." That usage also dates from Middle English, but it has a different derivation: Low German butt, meaning blunt.
Twelve hours in the smoker! The sky threatened rain -- not good when you're using a hot plate outdoors. But the weather held. We put an eggplant in there, too, and I made baba ganoush out of it later. Boy, that BG was some strong stuff, with all that smoke flavor. You had to wait a day for all the garlic and smoke and all to settle down together before you could enjoy it without being blindsided by it.
The pulled pork was tender and flavorful as promised. Worth the hassle? Yes, yes, yes! We can't wait to do it again! Pulls apart easily by fork or fingers. We shredded it and served it on on buns with my favorite cole slaw on the side.
Don on the taste of the Q: "It was definitely smoky. And the smoke was all through the meat. It was that warm smoke taste." Tender! If only the meat were a little fattier, I think, it would have come out jucier. Damn those low-fat enthusiasts and their pervasive influence on... on much too much.
Here's the official recipe for pulled pork on the Food Nework site. It doesn't capture the crazed essence of Alton tinkering with his homespun food tech projects. For that, you need to visit this Good Eats fan site. You can navigate to the episode named "Q," which contains the flower pot sequence, here. Astoundingly, this guy has transcripts, complete with scene-by-scene screenshots, of nearly every episode. Something like this is really essential for following a Good Eats plan. It's about a lot more than just a recipe.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Sleeping babe
This post still needs pic. The original Blogware post
Ulysses likes to nap on the couch. Well, maybe it's better said: when he naps, Ulysses would rather be on the couch. Any sentence inlcuding the phrase "Ulysses likes to nap" is probably overstating the case.
Posted to:
Ulysses likes to nap on the couch. Well, maybe it's better said: when he naps, Ulysses would rather be on the couch. Any sentence inlcuding the phrase "Ulysses likes to nap" is probably overstating the case.
Posted to:
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Sunday, June 11, 2006
First roar; first flower
This post still needs links and pics. The original Blogware post
Ulysses held up a toy T-Rex -- a dark purple, realistically styled, suede-ish critter about 4" high, once merchandise from my street vendor days in Philly -- and said, all throaty and gutteral, "Rar! Rarr!"
Another first today: Ulysses gave his mother a flower. That's me!
We made awesome chicken and dumplings from a Food 911 show we saw Saturday morning. Starts out with roasting the chicken with fresh herbs tucked under the skin and stuffed into the cavity. This morning, I took U out to our herb container garden and gathered some rosemary, marjoram, oregano and sage. Also chives, in full purple bloom.
As I was working at the cutting board, I felt a tap at my side. Which I ignored, at first. It repeated. Finally, I looked down. Ulysses was looking up at me, his hand outstreched. In it, the long, stout, green stem of a chive flower, a purple puff of color at its end. A flower. For me. I took it, thrilled. "Svetich jedan za Mama tvoja!" (A flower for your mother!) I said. He smiled and seemed to expand in his joy. Ulysses sniffed big sniffs: "A flower, smell it!" he seemed to be saying. I held it to my nose and sniffed. He beamed.
Later, Don and U and I went walking through the construction near our house, the environmentally friendly retooling of Starkweather Creek. I picked a couple of wildflowers and gave them to Don. Ulysses plucked them from his hand and gave them to me.
Big mud puddle on the way home. U stomped and splashed in it, gleefully. After our long walk and adventures in the greenery, and a long day including a trip to Savers and a new grab bag including little cars and, an electronic Name That Tune gadget, U was tired and fragile. Don carried him in his arms and said to the form draped over his shoulder, "We're going home, and you can have a nice, warm bath." And so he did, the muddiest tub ever, filled with his favorite pouring toys.
Ulysses held up a toy T-Rex -- a dark purple, realistically styled, suede-ish critter about 4" high, once merchandise from my street vendor days in Philly -- and said, all throaty and gutteral, "Rar! Rarr!"
Another first today: Ulysses gave his mother a flower. That's me!
We made awesome chicken and dumplings from a Food 911 show we saw Saturday morning. Starts out with roasting the chicken with fresh herbs tucked under the skin and stuffed into the cavity. This morning, I took U out to our herb container garden and gathered some rosemary, marjoram, oregano and sage. Also chives, in full purple bloom.
As I was working at the cutting board, I felt a tap at my side. Which I ignored, at first. It repeated. Finally, I looked down. Ulysses was looking up at me, his hand outstreched. In it, the long, stout, green stem of a chive flower, a purple puff of color at its end. A flower. For me. I took it, thrilled. "Svetich jedan za Mama tvoja!" (A flower for your mother!) I said. He smiled and seemed to expand in his joy. Ulysses sniffed big sniffs: "A flower, smell it!" he seemed to be saying. I held it to my nose and sniffed. He beamed.
Later, Don and U and I went walking through the construction near our house, the environmentally friendly retooling of Starkweather Creek. I picked a couple of wildflowers and gave them to Don. Ulysses plucked them from his hand and gave them to me.
Big mud puddle on the way home. U stomped and splashed in it, gleefully. After our long walk and adventures in the greenery, and a long day including a trip to Savers and a new grab bag including little cars and, an electronic Name That Tune gadget, U was tired and fragile. Don carried him in his arms and said to the form draped over his shoulder, "We're going home, and you can have a nice, warm bath." And so he did, the muddiest tub ever, filled with his favorite pouring toys.
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