Tuesday, February 19, 2008

While I’m day dreaming the garden layout and the imaginary bounty of my vegetable garden, can we talk about peas?

Oh how much I hated the grayish army green peas that tasted like can and reliably appeared as the designated vegetable perched on the edge of every single plate of spaghetti threatening to contaminate the noodles with watery iridescent can juice. I had to always eat at least one forkful. I don’t think I ever ate more. Imagine whirled peas, indeed. My wily sister figured a way to smash the wrinkly waterlogged orbs to the underside of her plate and flick the vegetable interlopers to the dogs while she was clearing her place to the dishwasher. (There was also the time she taught my mom never to force her to eat anything ever again, when she threw up on the curtains in the kitchen and again on the carpet on the way to the bathroom- but that is a different vegetable.)

Dear peas, how could I have misunderstood you so? I love the flirtatious wispy tendrils of your early vines barely sautéed in garlic and olive oil or butter. I love the early delicate harvest that can be eaten pod and all. So sweet that cooking is just a formality. The wet crunch snapping the later peas, then unzipping the tough string from the edge of the pods and slipping a finger inside to pop each pea out one prayer bead at a time. Stray ones escape skittering across the counter and bouncing their pointy heads irregularly on floor. The dogs run after them knocking rugs and furniture aside to tilt their heads and dart their tongues into crevices that even good housekeeping (unlike mine) would miss.

On the phone with my grandmother the other day we were probably talking about my fantasy vegetable league draft picks from the seed catalog when she reminded me of the carrot salad she used to get from the Gentilly Pap’s market especially for me for family dinners. Apparently I was the only one who even liked it. I hadn’t known that she didn’t make it from scratch either.

As a kid who didn’t like to eat almost everything, my mom at some point figured out the carrot salad recipe:(mayo-phobes should stop reading here.)

Shredded carrots (I remember being tasked to help prepare dinner with a stack of carrots, the potato peeler, and the box shredder.)
1 can of pineapple chunks with 2/3 the juice drained off
Dollop of mayo
Handful of raisins or 2 of the small red boxes full

I’ve been thinking about it since the call but it is one of those kinds of coveted kid foods that may not work for an adult palate (like twinkies), so I wasn’t willing to invest in new ingredients to make it happen. No, not for a mayo based salad, but tonight the refrigerator remnants all fell together.

3 Shredded carrots (I should have peeled them and it would have been prettier bright orange but I was feeling lazy)
All the nearly done citrus in the fruit basket (zest, skinned chunks and juice of 1 blood orange, and 1 ½ tangerines)
Handful of golden raisins
Handful of dried cranberries
Spoonful of soy-naise
Ruby grapefruit, dried cherries and chopped walnuts or pecans would have also been good additions or substitutions.

Is it too trite to say I was thrilled that it was just as good as I remembered?

Also isn't it weird that citrus is a winter crop? Doesn't it seem like it's you know essence is hot?

Also my dad used to mix his peas into the spaghetti and meat sauce. I'm no longer a plate food seperatist, but this is still disgusting.

Also, remember the carrots and peas candy? What did it taste like?

Something about this reminds me of Hawaii. Maybe because the original was made with pineapple? It seems like the sort of thing that would be right at home in a plate lunch. But what do I know? I don't see anything wrong with buttered rice.

Monday, February 04, 2008

Happy Super Fat Tuesday everybody, or is it Fat Super Tuesday... some clarification from those who know would be greatly appreciated.

Sunday, February 03, 2008

For those of you who knew about Carbon/Silicon and did not tell me: I loved you just a little less, just for a moment.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Happy New Year everyone

Friday, January 11, 2008

Hey, look at that. It is 2008. I just woke up from a long 2 year nap.

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

whadda you know. how did it get to be 2008 already? happy new year and god bless us every one.

Friday, January 12, 2007

It's been sooooooo stinkin' long since I've posted here that I nearly forgot my user name and password. That my friends is a bad thing.

Mike: just read about your bad ass class. How fucking cool are you? I forwarded the article to a few friends who are into old punk. I'm sure they'll enjoy it.

Zach: where is your top albums of 2006 list?

Sunday, September 10, 2006

DIY Network
Knitty Gritty
Episode DKNG-411
Sept 11:30 am EST
Sept 16 4:30 pm EST
Oct 10, 11:30 am EST
link to DIY page

Friday, August 18, 2006

Yeah, some of us got tired of waiting on the LE summit to happen so we took matters into our own hands. For me, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to make it to the island.

I *still* dream about the partial ocean view from my hotel room.

Yes, my friends, Hawaii lived up to its tropical paradise reputation. But with our tour guide extraordinaire, it was beyond human comprehension. We ate, ate, ate, ate and ate some more. A good time was had by all.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Ladies of Hawaii (visitors and resident) - thank you so much for the postcard. And Angie, I loved seeing all the photos - esp. of all that you guys ate. So jealous over here. It looks like a wonderful time - though that submarine tour gave me claustrophobia just looking at it, cute turtles aside.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Mini-summit: Honolulu

What's in the box?

For them, it was just a nice cooling drink. For me, it was dammit I have to try to walk now.

"Partial ocean view"

Sunday, March 19, 2006

i'm so glad you are ok. it's so funny to think that paradise has real problems too.

i'm watching basketball right now.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

So on Sunday, 13 utility poles fell over and blocked all four lanes of the highway out on my side of the island. I didn't go home until Monday night.

photo album of downed poles

newspaper article about the incident.

A friend of mine who lives on the side of the island that has been experiencing flooding due to torrential rains pointed out that my side of the island was overdue for a highway closure due to flooding/water main breaking/brush fires/hostage situations. The mountain pass (dirt, switchbacks, no lights) is opened for emergencies, but only during the day, and runs through military property, so vehicle and ID checks have to be done, slowing things down even more. It's been an unusual winter; most of my island has been under a flash flood watch for much of the past few weeks. The weather in general has been very Seattle-like, with tropical storm moments.

The dam that broke was on another island (Kaua'i), and has shut down pretty much the entire island.

I'm fine, the goats are a little tired of being damp, but the dry streambed behind the property is clear and so far the biggest damage I've had to suffer was the purchase of a set of work clothes. I usually have a full set of work clothing at my sister's house, but I'd used it on Saturday and hadn't replaced it yet. I was going to do that on Monday, ha ha. The tourists who have been trying to work on their tans, on the other hand, not so happy.

In other completely unrelated news, I have been watching Wonderfalls on DVD and look forward to the day I can just download TV shows for viewing and do not have to actually watch TV.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

National Park visit of 2006 #2: Haleakala. At sunrise, which was not my idea. I understand the nature of the social beast which dictates going to certain places and whatnot because it's what everyone does, therefore it is safe and sanctioned and you can share it with everyone when you get home. Still, listening to the other tourists around me spew inanities ("oh there it is!" "yep, it's coming up" "whoo that's bright!") instills in me the desire to punch people in the face. Add in their tendency to crowd the window (just stand back a couple of feet, please, the view is the same and it's easier for everyone else to see) and take flash photos of the sunrise through the window (...), and I would have left the enclosed lookout but it was 38 degrees with a stiff wind outside, and I'd left my shoes in my car back at the HNL airport. Also rather amusing to note the palpable disappointment afterwards. Yes, people, you drove 37 miles up a switchback riddled mountainside in the dark to see the sunrise. And that's all that happens. It comes up. If you pay $60, though, you can go up in a bus and ride a bicycle down.

No photos, because a friend's camera crapped out and I gave her the batteries from mine (her camera takes vastly superior photos, which I will get copies of).