I prefer mine stale. I like food that fights back.
Really, darlings, I’m all for convenience, but I think this is silly. What do you think? I think learning to use a pan is not too much to ask.
Now if I could just find someplace to get a bowl at midnight on a Sunday in Reading, PA, I’d be set. *sigh*
Tootling ’round town today, happy as a clam, perhaps even happier, in my trusty 2cc, I was listening to NPR, which I like to think of as “Culture on the Go!” Does anyone listen to the radio whilst stationary? Rhetorical; I’m sure many do, however, I am not of that persuasion. The radio means the smell of the asphalt and the wind in my hair. Well truly, the wind in the scarf that covers my hair. At any rate, the road represents “freedom” to me, a freedom not felt whilst in the confines of my own home. Perhaps it was all those years being constricted by my late husband, Otto.
Where was I?…
Oh yes, road, 2cc, NPR…Well, there I was. And on came the most fascinating piece.
Sandor Ellix Katz, quite the name, was chatting about fermentation. Of food. He is a, or possibly, the, “fermentation revivalist.” His exploration and experimentation in the area of food preservation is seemingly encyclopedic. He has written a couple of volumes on the subject, his latest being “The Art of Fermentation: An In-Depth Exploration of Essential Concepts.” Well la-di-da say I, in the most reverent way possible. If you are going to love a subject, I say, love it to the depths of your soul. And he certainly has. Perhaps this is what comes of being a Jew in Tennessee; one can only speculate. But yes, preservation!
Well, you all know, or should, that I am fascinated by anything to do with preservation. I love old books, papers, furniture, my 2cc, myself… To that preservationist end, I am currently soaking my face in a tub full of vinegar. This is not something Mr. Katz recommends, but I thought, “Why the heck not?” At the very least, it is refreshing, and allows me some quiet, albeit wet, time to share with all of you. The burning in my eyes is but a small price to pay for our wonderful time together!
I am very glad, however, that I invested in that waterproof and, it seems, vinegar-proof, case for my cellular telephone on which I am writing this entry. Frivolous then, prescient now.
Should you be interested in more information on Mr. Katz and his fermented life, you may follow this link: Wild Fermentation.
Oh my, my hands have gotten quite prune-y, and I’ve become overtaken by a strong desire for salad. Time to say, “Bye” for the while. Until next time we meet, here’s a thought: Try to live each day with a little more kindness than the day before. It’s just a thought.
Is it Monday? Already? Where have I been?
I’ll tell you where: Asleep. Asleep for three days. Well, not asleep for the entirety of these last three days, but much, much of them. “How is that possible,” you ask, and you would be right for asking.
As it turns out, all you have to do is make the mistake of not having turkey for Thanksgiving! I know, it is a sacrilege… But yes, I was taken for Thanksgiving dinner by some lovely friends. At a lovely restaurant, but not so lovely that I’ll name it.
It turns out that at this particular establishment, one can order things other than the holy bird. Who knew this was possible? Not I. And so I thought to myself, “Jane, you are in a holiday rut; you need to shake things up!” And so I did. Throwing caution to the wind, I ordered the prime rib! And it was delicious.
But it was not turkey.
And on the ride home, (my dear friends had graciously driven so that their dear Jane did not have to drive after dark) I began to feel that I had betrayed this most American of holidays. And I began to have a guilty hankering, or yen, well, really, a strong desire, urging, no, need, to make things right.
And so, after they had dropped me off at my little abode, waving bye-bye to the boys until they were ’round the corner; I hopped, perhaps “hopped” is a misnomer for what I did, but let me have my few delusions, into my darling Citroën 2CV, and off to the grocery store I went!
Once home, arms laden with the makings of holiday amends, I got to work. I mixed, I kneaded, I baked, and roasted! By 6 am the following morning my feast was complete, and I, well, I was a complete mess! But I felt so very redeemed.
After a short nap, I dug hungrily, and thankfully, into my after-holiday repas.
And there, my dears, is where the trouble began.
I ate, fell into a tryptophan haze, woke, ate some more, fell back into my tryp-snooze..woke, ate, snoozed. And there it was, from Friday until just moments ago: wake, eat, tryp, wake, eat, tryp, wake, eat…and on.
And here it is, Monday; the turkey, and all the fixin’s are gone. Yes, in the last three days I’ve eaten an entire 24 pound turkey and its corresponding side dishes! I’ve been a fiend, alternately eating, then sleeping. I’ve wasted an entire weekend in a chemically, and gluttony, induced semi-wasteland. But now, I’m awake. It is a new day. I am a new woman.
And I’ve learned never, never, to eat steak on Thanksgiving.
I hope you all had a safe, happy, and love-filled holiday!