The Big Green House

The pervert in the bushes and the dope-fiend on the street - They've got one thing in common: they're all crying out for meat

I’m in the middle of a dry spell. Oh, I have ideas for things to post here; plenty of ‘em, too. I’ll start writing them out, and then one of two things occurs – I either can’t stand the way I’ve phrased it, or I like the writing but find that the original idea itself is shit. Lately it’s the latter, most often. Either way is frustrating, especially since it leaves me very little to post other than excuses for why I’m not posting more often. And, y’know, who wants to read that?

Well, hell. I suppose I could tell you about Science Girl’s birthday dinner. We went to Nishino, which was quite nice. I was lead to believe that it was a bit more formal than it turned out to be, so I wore my suit. Given the quantity of fleece on display at the other tables, I was perhaps a little overdressed. Better that than the other way around, I guess. (SG was much cleverer than I, as usual, and dressed in such a way as to appear both formal and casual.)

The food was great. We had some sushi to start. It was probably the best I’ve had – not to imply that I’ve had a whole bunch of experience with sushi, since I haven’t. Just that it was really good, as was the miso soup. The entrees were a sort of (and I’m hesitant to use this term, since I’m no foodie & could well be misapplying it) fusion of traditional Japanese cuisine and, uh, western, in the case of SG’s (I don’t think cheese factors into trad. Japanese cooking, does it?), and Chinese in mine. Sometimes that sort of thing falls flat, but this was aces all the way. We want to go back, dressed comfortably, and sit at the sushi bar to learn a few things.

Where wine goes in, the wit goes out

Science Girl won some tickets for the semi-swanky Taste Washington event last weekend. I wrote up our experience for #1HS. Go check it out.

Ice Cream for Crow

Well, I hope y’all are having a fine Thanksgiving. Me? I’m here at work, of course. Not my first choice, believe me, but A) somebody’s gotta do it, and B) I’m getting double time, so that lessens the sting a little.

Science Girl was making the traditional meal while I was getting ready for work. I gotta tell ya, it smelled really good. She’s said she’d bring me a plate around break time, so I’m not missing out. Much.

It’s a slow day here, so basically I’m waiting for dinnertime to roll around. And thinking about food. Being who I am, that got me thinking about songs about eating, food, or with food items in the title. Here’s what I’ve got so far:

Heresy of thought, heresy of word, and heresy of deed

This can’t be good. I mean, Jack always tasted like it had been filtered through Typhoid Mary’s panties to me, but still… Then again, they’ve already fucked with the recipe once, so I guess another time won’t matter much.

Thankfully, Jim Beam ain’t touching a thing.

Behold the power of cheese

See, the goat ranch fantasy is not such an entirely crazy idea. Why, these folks have been doing it since 1987.

It’s still not gonna happen, of course. It’s just a nice way to occupy my otherwise vacant mind. Besides, that ranch we saw outside La Push is going for… well, let’s just say that it’s a lot more than we have in our checking account.

Sugar sugar

So, Science Girl and I were discussing Bakerina’s post today regarding candy bars. SG said that she was never that into chocolate bars when she was a kid. She was, however, all about the candy. Her drug of choice was Pixie Stix, which she referred to as being “little sugar bongs for kids”*. That made me laugh pretty hard, but it’s actually a good description.

I never dug them that much myself. They were alright, but chocolate was more my style. As it turns out, that may be genetic. We found out a couple of years ago that my Mom’s family is distantly related to the Hershey family. So, in one sense or another, I’ve always had crappy chocolate in my blood.

Anyway, this post only really exists because of the phrase “sugar bongs for kids”. It’s been a slow day.

As a side note, while I was looking around for Pixie Stix links I came across a couple of recipes for drinks going by that name. I ask you, in all seriousness: who the hell drinks this stuff? Surely not adults? Well, I hope it’s as sweet coming back up as it is going down, ‘cause those two are guaranteed return tickets. Yeesh.

*Think beer bong. Versus, uh, whatever else you might have in mind.

Capricorns unite!

I’ve mentioned the café/wine bar fantasy before. The other one that comes up from time to time is the goat ranch. No, really. We’d raise goats and make cheese. Maybe we’d have a few sheep, too, so we could make feta. (Well, we could make it with goat's milk, too, but I’ve always heard that sheep’s milk was used in the authentic article.)

While we were in La Push, there was a place for sale on the road to Forks: 80 acres, mostly in pasture (or so it seemed) with house and barn, on the bank of the Bogachiel River. I still have the phone number of the real estate agent out in the car. We were gonna call to see how much they were asking, just as a lark. Realistically, I don't think we actually will.

See, the thing is, what makes a pleasant fantasy doesn’t always translate into a pleasant reality. Setting aside the fairly huge monetary investment involved in putting together such an operation, there’s also the steep learning curve. When I was a kid I raised a calf myself, but that’s about the extent of my experience in animal husbandry. Science Girl doesn’t even have that background. Also, neither of us has ever made cheese. At all. Again, another steep learning curve. I’m guessing we wouldn’t have market-ready cheese from our first batch, and quite possibly not from our first several batches.

There are plenty of resources available, of course. Neither of us is stupid; I’m sure we’d pick it up, eventually. But the animals won’t wait patiently while you educate yourself. Goats are pretty hardy, as I recall, but things happen – difficult pregnancies, disease, etc. – which need to be attended to right now. And, while the cheese may very well stand alone, it needs help to get to that point.

Also, let’s not forget that taking a vacation from such a set-up would be difficult, if not entirely out of the question. Certainly we wouldn’t both be able to go at the same time. Someone would have to stay at the ranch and take care of the stock & the cheese. They haven’t quite perfected the self-milking goat yet.

Still, it’s fun to think about. It would be a hell of a lot of very hard work, but I can’t honestly say that I’ve totally dismissed the idea. Just almost totally. In the meantime, I guess we can try out this recipe and see how it goes.

The bear's agent is holding on line two

Bear Drinks 36 Beers, Passes Out

This bear has a great future in advertising ahead of him. The Rainier Brewery of old would have been all over this story. Now that the label is owned by Pabst (?) and the beer is no longer made here in town AND THEY TOOK DOWN THE BIG “R’, FOR GOD’S SAKE! I MEAN, IS NOTHING SACRED ANYMORE?!… uh, anyway, we’ll see if the new guys are clever enough to do anything with this.

(While I was poking around for links, I found this little nugget: Rainier Brewing was accused of influencing the naming of Mt. Rainier. I did not know that.)

Summer in the city

So here’s my plan: I’m gonna get one of those inflatable wading pools, set it up in the back yard and fill it with water, set the cooler next to it with some icy beverages inside, bring the boom box out, and spend the weekend there. I think I can find a pool that will fit Science Girl, Lucy and myself and still have a little room for water. (Martin doesn’t do the water thing. He just stretches out in the shade under the birdfeeder and waits for the finches to come land on his head. So far, no takers.)

If we’re feeling ambitious, we’ll head over to the Brewfest and check things out. The Rotten Apples, Visqueen, and Heather Duby on the same bill PLUS lotsa good beer would definitely be worth getting out of the pool for. I just hope I don’t get too wrinkly to drive.

You can tune a piano...

Why do people insist on saying “tunafish”? Does “tuna” not imply “fish”? Are there, in fact, tunagoats? Tunabirds, perhaps? After all, it is the chicken of the sea. Or so I’m told. I don’t eat the stuff myself. Not canned, anyway. A nice tuna steak every now and again, absolutely.

I used to have a recipe for a lime-soy sauce marinade that was just amazing on tuna steak. You’d marinate the steak for about eight hours and then throw it on the grill. Alas, I lost the recipe while moving from one house to another.

Tuna sushi is pretty yummy, too. Ahi, I think it’s called. I’m pretty ignorant when it comes to sushi. (Well, that and a multitude of other things.) I’m more of a donburi kinda guy. Oyako-don, specifically.

When I was living in Sacramento, I used to live right around the corner from a little Japanese restaurant called Moko. Last time I was in Sac. I tried to take Science Girl & my mom there for lunch, but it no longer exists. I miss it. Great food, and pretty inexpensive, too. I ate there so often that they’d usually have my large Kirin open and waiting for me before I even sat down. My Latino friends would get kinda weirded out when I’d invite them to eat there, though. This confused me to no end, as they had no problem going to other Japanese places with me. Then one of them pointed out that the word moko in Spanish means “booger”.

Oh. Yeah, that would be kinda unpleasant, I guess.

These days, I eat a lot more Thai food than I do Japanese, mostly because Thai seems to be everywhere. Granted, there are a lot of teriyaki joints in Seattle. Most of them are more or less the equivalent of fast food, so we only have it every now and again.

Can you tell I’ve run out of things to say?