Tuesday Hatred: Sevenfold Song of Hate
1. At the “market” (a store) the other day (in fact the day on which I write this—but not the day on which you read it) I saw several packages of bread whose packaging prominently announced “SLOW NATURAL FERMENTATION” and also “NO DAIRY / NO GMO / NO YEAST”. How, I wonder, is this possible? (One knows what they mean, of course, but it’s still fucking annoying.) (Lactic acid?)
2. Church parking.
3. When, before a concert or film, some representative of the presenting organization stands up on stage and delivers (usually poorly) a tiresome little spiel about his, her, or the organization’s excitement at the soon-to-take-place whatever, and a little more besides about how it came to be, all of which is of interest to precisely no one who isn’t already familiar with it.
4. How boring people are! I myself not excluded.
5. My forehead is all over pimples.
6. No amount of incompetently applied polish will return these shoes to their former state. Many favored shirts are stained.
7. America is ruled by the vicious.
Monday Movies:
This week, I watched the following films:
- The American — this marked the first time I’ve watched a movie during the week in a while. I was swamped with work for the last few weeks, but now things have slowed down to the point where I felt I could indulge and watch a movie in the morning. This was the most relaxing thriller I’ve ever seen in my life, showcasing George Clooney’s skill in portraying a socially isolated low-level functionary who does terrible things and yet still gets you to root for him.
- Unforgiven — continuing our Western kick, The Girlfriend and I went for the late-career Clint Eastwood and found him to be even better. The ambivalent treatment of the Western myth, neither fully debunking nor fully embracing it, was masterfully done, as was the gradual unfolding of Gene Hackman’s character. The Girlfriend thought the kid’s character was overly annoying, but I pointed out that it might be realistic that a person like that would become anxious in the face of Clint Eastwood’s taciturn bearing and thus be overly chatty. Overall, a triumph.
- Heathers — we watched part of this at E. Bolden’s, and wow was it ever bizarre. The popular girls are the ones who dress like the Golden Girls?! There were so many great lines that I’m surprised “what’s your damage” became the catchphrase. My personal favorite when Christian Slater said that a jock’s only likely future contribution to society would be “date-rapes and AIDS jokes.”
- The Brothers Grimm — another partial viewing, this time concluded because we were frankly bored. The Terry Gilliam formula can be great, but it can also be labored and dull.
Friday Afternoon Confessional: A Frank Assessment of My Apartment in Kalamazoo
I confess that when I moved to Kalamazoo, my primary criterion in seeking an apartment was price. I succeeded in finding an apartment so cheap that it makes all my Chicago friends jealous and even sounds cheap to my suburban relatives. I also found a place that is free of insects and small rodents (there are occasional spiders, but I leave them alone in the belief that they eat insects); that is located in easy walking distance to the college, the Amtrak station, downtown Kalamazoo, and (recently) a grocery store; and that has working appliances, ample electrical outlets, and a reliable furnace.
I confess that I find certain aspects of this apartment to be undesirable, however. As I related in the comments to this week’s Tuesday Hatred, I have to shovel my own walkway. This wouldn’t be a big deal, except for the fact that all the runoff from the roof joins with the ice on the sidewalk to become an impenetrable block — so that my sidewalk paradoxically becomes much more icy as it becomes warmer. I have been known to attack this block of ice with the claw end of a hammer, to little effect. My apartment is also located on the opposite side of the house from all the others, making it difficult for delivery people to find.
One frequent delivery service is my laundry service, which I use because there are no laundry facilities open to me. It’s not that there are no laundry facilities in the building — there are, but they are for the sole use of one apartment out of the three. As I don’t have a car and there are no laundromats within even a very generous concept of walking distance, the delivery service is my only option other than doing it by hand in the tub (which I briefly tried). I confess that I am afraid to complain about anything to them, because they might get mad at me and refuse to do my laundry anymore. I confess that this fear extends to their habit of occasionally choosing a counterintuitive and more expensive option (such as dry cleaning and pressing my sheets), which I interpret as “punishing” me for not using their service consistently enough. I confess that having professionally pressed dressed shirts is really, really nice, however.
I confess that my apartment is a converted attic with low ceilings and an awkward layout. I confess that the low ceilings once resulted in me eviscerating my finger on the ceiling fan while hanging up laundry during my experiment in doing it by hand.
The only way to move into the apartment is by way of a narrow staircase with a narrow door at the top — this resulted in several items not making it into the apartment when I first moved in and, I confess, me using the f-word in front of my parents. I confess that I am terrified at the prospect of moving back out, in part because I purchased a new home-assemble desk that I’m all but certain won’t fit through the door in its present state. I confess that I am tempted to take an axe to it and leave it in the garbage rather than even try to move it out. But that would require me to buy an axe, and I know of no hardware stores within a reasonable distance!
I confess that I have to leave the kitchen and bathroom sinks running at full blast for approximately five minutes before hot water comes out — and then it’s unbearably hot. I confess that, mysteriously but blessedly, the shower works normally. I confess that my apartment has an electric range, and I prefer gas. I confess that there is virtually no counterspace in the kitchen and that I had to repurpose a desk to gain some. I confess that there are almost no circumstances under which a usable amount of natural light enters my apartment.
I confess that my apartment comes with a designated parking spot. I confess that despite not owning a car, I initially became annoyed last year when one of the other residents caught on and started parking there. This last is a true confession: although I did not act on that feeling, the fact that it even occurred reflects poorly on me as a person.
I confess that I got what I paid for.
Spoiler Alert Thursday
If my riveting dissertation on last week’s TV shows didn’t get you excited (which it clearly did not), this will most certainly will (highly unlikely).
“Spartacus: Gods of the Arena.” It would seem that Calavius was not the first social superior murdered by Batiatus (Ovidius doesn’t really qualify given that he is just a business rival, presumably just more successful) given that the episode ends with Batiatus’ beating by Vettius and Tullius. It would seem that the reason why Batiatus liked Spartacus so much is that he has a thing for cocky gladiators, like the current champion, Gannicus. I can’t wait for Crixus to break Ashur’s leg.
“State of the Union Address.” Didn’t watch it; pre-empted “NCIS,” which is unforgivable: what else is there to watch on Tuesday night other than that offensive Sarah Richardson show on HGTV? I won’t recount the offensive details of the latter show.
“Fringe.” Glad that the show is back, but it clearly isn’t going to “pull an X-Files” and do well on Friday nights. Friday is where shows go to die, especially on Fox.
“The Cape.” Continues to be boring. I feel sorry for sad fate of Cameron the Terminator and Franklin the Crazy Vampire. The latter, at least, does completely insane rather well, but it still doesn’t save the show from sucking. Last week (or the week before?), I hypothesized that the show would have been better had Helo been cast as The Cape. Noticing that Sam Adama is appearing in “House” this week, I suggest that “The Cape” would have been better had he been cast as The Cape. Basically, it isn’t clear to me why I’m not involved in all aspects of TV production because clearly I can do it better than the professionals.
“House.” Didn’t watch it, but Sam Adama (see above) was the sick person of the week.
“The Big Bang Theory.” The “final fart” was basically the best part of the show. And that isn’t saying much.
Wednesday Food: Soft Pretzels
I went to a party this weekend in honor of a sport that sends this city (until recently) and this country (generally) into fits of panic and tension. It’s not something that particularly electrifies my life, so I tried to find another way to get involved. To escape the bewildered looks that followed my question of why the weighty people serve no purpose other than canceling each other out, I threw my hands up and attended to the snack supply. Brats were on the grill and pork was in the smoker, so fresh soft pretzels were the perfect starter.
Having mastered yeast just last week I thought it appropriate to take my new skill for a ride. Literally. I made the dough the morning before the game, let it rise a while, packed it up, and cycled to the party. It kept beautifully. I left the big ball of dough covered and on top of the oven for most of the afternoon and fired off a batch when needed. I can’t pinpoint what it is about pretzels that make people so happy—the sense of nostalgia? the goofy shape? the likeness to bread?—but there’s something magical about this food. A simple dusting of course sea salt will suffice for topping but next time I’ll try grated asiago and sriracha or perhaps bacon and sage.
With the pretzels I served homemade beer mustard and rosemary onion confiturra. Smuttynose Brewing is fresh on Chicago’s distribution roster so I incorporated their Robust Porter. Somewhat mellow but full-bodied, it has roasted nut and chicory flavors that work well both in the mustard and for drinking. And at a modest 5.7% abv it’s a lighter quencher for your winter stout craving. The onion confiturra was good and went well with meat, but it would have benefited from a reduction in sugar and a deglazing of Smuttynose.
If you, like so many of your fellow countrymen (though not this one), will be gathering around the television for a climactic sporting event, this is your dish!
Tuesday Hatred: Upset Screws
I hate that not until I typed it did I realize that this week’s TH subtitle could be taken to mean something like “angry copulations”. (Nevertheless, on typing it I realized it immediately—so I’m not totally out of it.) In fact the title has a far different origin, in my discovery on leaving a party Saturday that my front derailer cage was totally misaligned (the result of the lock’s weight having rested on it for so long? Who knows!). I managed to get things mostly in order when I got home, but the high limit set screw did nothing. Nothing! I turned and turned that screw to no effect. The internet indicated that if this happened the shifter cable should be tightened. But the last time I tried anything involving that disaster ensued. (This time all that happened was that I pulled off the little thing crimped onto the end to keep the wires from fraying.) I hate all this bull. But, you see now what I was going for. Set screw. Not right. Upset, you might say. Upset set screw. Ho ho ho.
I hate that I spent today in a most unpleasant headachy state, in which, more or less, having my eyes open caused me pain. I hate that, although I was able to get a Haskell solution to a silly algorithmic problem to go from taking several minutes to taking thirty seconds to run, I have no idea why the changes I made had that effect. (They also had the effect of making the code cleaner and even slightly more, dare I say it, elegant. But I know why that happened.) I hate that a friend’s bike was stolen. I hate that I’ve been limping for over a week because of some weirdness with my right big toe.
Monday Movies: Kubrickian
This weekend, The Girlfriend and I watched but one movie: 2001: A Space Odyssey. It had a lot more monkeys in it that we were anticipating, and I have no idea what the last half hour was about. Kubrick did manage the feat of a slow-paced movie that nonetheless moved quickly. I almost want to pull a McManus on Kubrick.
Friday Afternoon Confessional: The Phone
I confess that I may have missed out on a campus interview in part because I didn’t sound enthusiastic on the phone. This is because I never sound enthusiastic on the phone. The way I come across on the phone accurately reflects my true feelings: I hate being on the phone. Yet it is also misleading, insofar as one naturally extrapolates to the idea that my tone reflects my feelings about the content as well as the form of the exchange. I can think of a lot of other good reasons why I didn’t get the campus interview, though, so I’ll be okay.
I confess that few things please me as much as an empty inbox and a zero balance.
I confess that after having a bag of rice on hand in my Kalamazoo cupboard for nearly a year, I finally decided to try my hands at beans and rice. I count it as a success.
I confess that whenever I realize that one quarter has already come and gone this year, I am shocked. They just get faster and faster. Thankfully (?) this is the last one for now, or else I might completely lose all concept of time.
Spoiler Alert Thursday
While “The Cape” was moderately enjoyable last week, it was somewhat uninteresting this week. Admittedly, I had my computer on my lap while the show was on and was kind-of doing work. But that doesn’t explain it. A hypothesis has been suggested: Cameron the Terminator and Ames the Thief should swap roles: Ames would become Orwell on “The Cape” and Cameron would become Ames on “Human Target.” This would be a major victory for “Human Target” and would mean that we don’t have to watch “The Cape.”
“Human Target” was preempted last week because of that idiot in Arizona forcing the episodes to be broadcast on Friday night. The first episode was rather boring, largely because it was about Ilsa and her sister: no one cares. Guerrero was funny when he was using morse code to communicate with Winston. If you want the joke, watch the episode. But, really, it involved a light on a gun, morse code, and a comparison to a certain type of mobile home. Great stuff. In the second episode, Harry Morgan/Tom Zarek’s second was amusing as a prison warden running a meth lab. Even more amusing was when Chance imitated his bad Southern accent with an equally bad Southern accent. Show is likely not returning for a third season: two week hiatus and then new episodes will air on Mondays and then Wednesdays. Fox is absolutely insane: no one will watch a show if they don’t know when it is on.
“General Hospital.” How long can the drag it out that the lawyer and the Balkan are one and the same person? And won’t someone just kill Lisa, maybe Johnny?
Wednesday Food: Conquering Yeast
After last week’s post I continued making cinnamon rolls and attempting to overcome my yeast anxiety until they’d bent to my will and produced satisfactorily risen dough. Jms’s recipe was my most successful. I came out of the cinnamon-sugar bender with a few lessons learned. Then, I moved on to bread. Pictured on the right is this fantastic no-knead bread, and on the left is this excellent low-fat banana loaf (no yeast required). If you undertake baking with yeast make sure that you are wiser than I am and these points are already second nature.
- You can’t deprive yeast of their heat. I live in a very cold apartment. Leaving dough to rise in the kitchen when it’s 61ºF will not do. Find a radiator to keep it company, or set the bowl of dough in a bain marie.
- Don’t compromise rise time. When the recipe says “let the dough rise for __ hours,” they say it for a reason.
- Active Dry and Instant Yeast are quite different. They are interchangeable but proofing, quantity, and rise time change. Red Star calls it “Quick-rise” for Fleischmann’s it’s “RapidRise.” These are the only products I’ve used so far, if anyone has thoughts on starters/ live/ wild cultures, please advise.
- The difference between all-purpose and bread flour is worth knowing. It’s all about protein, and it means a lot to the little fermenting buggers. It will also improve your gluten window.
- THIS is a gluten window. And this generous person provides us with visuals. Having proper elasticity has everything to do with resulting texture and density.
- Finally, never leave your dough unattended or at least unprotected when you have gluten-addicted felines.
And don’t forget you don’t always need yeast, but sometimes just a bottle of beer for bread baking.
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