Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Sometimes it's hard to say goodbye (to an old computer)
Last week my Apple Powerbook G3 wouldn’t power up.
Anyone fluent in Mac is thinking, “Your what?” followed by, “Manufactured when?!”
It’s true. I was still using an extremely old -- and until last Thursday -- reliable Mac. This was one helluva machine back in its day. And yes, its day was 13 years ago. And in this instance I wasn’t trying to be cool and retro. (Ok so I’m rarely cool and retro.) What happened is that I loved the keyboard. The latest Mac laptop keyboards are too light. By that I mean my fingertips slide off the keys. The Powerbook G3, henceforth referred to as Wallstreet, that keyboard. sigh. For anyone out there who likes the feel of a woman’s skin beneath your fingers, you’ll know what I’m talking about and you’ll know why I’m going to miss that machine. Those keys hugged my fingertips. And as I spend a fair amount of time writing, a keyboard that gently hugs my fingertips makes work seem less like work and more like pleasure.
Today when I made my way to the service counter at Tekserve, the kid who waited on me was really nice although I’m sure he was thinking, “Who is this whacko? I bet she still has a landline.” And I give him a lot of credit for not trying to push a new computer on me. I said, “I’m going to miss this computer so much I could cry.” Little does he know that last night I did cry. Tears were shed when I realized The Wallstreet was pretty much dead and data recovery would be our last act together. sniff.
And I do have a landline...
Anyone fluent in Mac is thinking, “Your what?” followed by, “Manufactured when?!”
It’s true. I was still using an extremely old -- and until last Thursday -- reliable Mac. This was one helluva machine back in its day. And yes, its day was 13 years ago. And in this instance I wasn’t trying to be cool and retro. (Ok so I’m rarely cool and retro.) What happened is that I loved the keyboard. The latest Mac laptop keyboards are too light. By that I mean my fingertips slide off the keys. The Powerbook G3, henceforth referred to as Wallstreet, that keyboard. sigh. For anyone out there who likes the feel of a woman’s skin beneath your fingers, you’ll know what I’m talking about and you’ll know why I’m going to miss that machine. Those keys hugged my fingertips. And as I spend a fair amount of time writing, a keyboard that gently hugs my fingertips makes work seem less like work and more like pleasure.
Today when I made my way to the service counter at Tekserve, the kid who waited on me was really nice although I’m sure he was thinking, “Who is this whacko? I bet she still has a landline.” And I give him a lot of credit for not trying to push a new computer on me. I said, “I’m going to miss this computer so much I could cry.” Little does he know that last night I did cry. Tears were shed when I realized The Wallstreet was pretty much dead and data recovery would be our last act together. sniff.
And I do have a landline...
Monday, April 5, 2010
Get out of the whey.
I think I've found my new obsession: home made cheese.
In a former long term committed relationship I was engaged to a vegatarian who was a really good cook. She must have watched a cooking show because one night she served up saag paneer and she'd made the paneer. After that a conversation regarding dinner might have gone something along these lines:
wifey (the wife): What do you want for dinner?
wubby (that was me): Um. saag paneer with home made paneer?
wifey: Okay. Now scram.
I'd retire to the living room where I'd watch ESPN and the wifey would be in the kitchen cooking. I hid in the living room because I wasn't welcome in the kitchen. I'd get dirty looks and her claws would come out if I got anywhere near her when she was cooking. She could be very intense like that.
An hour or so later she'd be all smiles and place a plate of saag paneer in front of me, which I happily lapped up. Then it was my turn in the kitchen for KP.
Lately I find that something interesting is happening to me. In addition to having a zero tolerance level for bullshit I'm becoming the sort of person who doesn't want company while I'm in the kitchen cooking. Seriously. Don't get too close or you will get burned.
I've got everything organized just so and I want to hit my zen. People underfoot make it hard to get in the zone. (This pertains to living and cooking.)
Yesterday, hot off the success of my homemade mozzerella I decided to give the saag paneer a shot.
And jeepers, it was as easy as falling off a log.
Paneer has two ingredients: whole milk and whole yogurt.
Which begs the question: where's the rennet? (Which leads me to want to explore veggie rennet.)
The thrifty Scot made an appearance here. (See photos.) That clean, very worn out undershirt has been waiting to be put to a new use. Today, that new purpose was discovered: cheese strainer.
The paneer is made like so:
into a pot boil (while stirring constantly) 6 cups of milk. Then add 1.5 cups of whole yogurt. Turn off heat. Stir and watch the curds form. Strain the curds through an old white t-shirt. Twist t-shirt to squeeze out whey. Hang over a bowl, using an elastic band, from kitchen cabinet hook. After 30 minutes twist the t-shirt some strain out remaining whey.
Fix yourself up a batch of saag, add paneer. Voila!
Homemade chevre is on deck but I won't be able to get to it until I find a supplier of organic goat milk. Stay tuned.
In a former long term committed relationship I was engaged to a vegatarian who was a really good cook. She must have watched a cooking show because one night she served up saag paneer and she'd made the paneer. After that a conversation regarding dinner might have gone something along these lines:
wifey (the wife): What do you want for dinner?
wubby (that was me): Um. saag paneer with home made paneer?
wifey: Okay. Now scram.
I'd retire to the living room where I'd watch ESPN and the wifey would be in the kitchen cooking. I hid in the living room because I wasn't welcome in the kitchen. I'd get dirty looks and her claws would come out if I got anywhere near her when she was cooking. She could be very intense like that.
An hour or so later she'd be all smiles and place a plate of saag paneer in front of me, which I happily lapped up. Then it was my turn in the kitchen for KP.
Lately I find that something interesting is happening to me. In addition to having a zero tolerance level for bullshit I'm becoming the sort of person who doesn't want company while I'm in the kitchen cooking. Seriously. Don't get too close or you will get burned.
I've got everything organized just so and I want to hit my zen. People underfoot make it hard to get in the zone. (This pertains to living and cooking.)
Yesterday, hot off the success of my homemade mozzerella I decided to give the saag paneer a shot.
And jeepers, it was as easy as falling off a log.
Paneer has two ingredients: whole milk and whole yogurt.
Which begs the question: where's the rennet? (Which leads me to want to explore veggie rennet.)
The thrifty Scot made an appearance here. (See photos.) That clean, very worn out undershirt has been waiting to be put to a new use. Today, that new purpose was discovered: cheese strainer.
The paneer is made like so:
into a pot boil (while stirring constantly) 6 cups of milk. Then add 1.5 cups of whole yogurt. Turn off heat. Stir and watch the curds form. Strain the curds through an old white t-shirt. Twist t-shirt to squeeze out whey. Hang over a bowl, using an elastic band, from kitchen cabinet hook. After 30 minutes twist the t-shirt some strain out remaining whey.
Fix yourself up a batch of saag, add paneer. Voila!
Homemade chevre is on deck but I won't be able to get to it until I find a supplier of organic goat milk. Stay tuned.
Country living continues
Sometimes I'm disturbed by the way my brain works. I find myself living my life, minding my own business (more or less) and then suddenly I'll be taken hold of by an idea. And when I say taken hold of I mean, "Held in a firm grasp, unable to escape." So when we discovered over an acre of Asiatic Bittersweet on the land I had "that feeling." I couldn't sleep at night knowing there was an invasive species threatening to "take over" and there was something I could do to change that and instead I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
A pair of Felco #7 pruners changed all that.
Now I spend my days removing the bittersweet by hand. And I spend my nights wishing it were the day so I could remove the bittersweet. If you're picking up on an obsessive quality, you've hit that nail square on the head.
After.
An hour and a half later. Fresh mozzerella cheese.
A little bit disturbing that 1 gallon of milk produced such a small amount of cheese.
Kind of put th
ings into perspective.
A little bit disturbing that 1 gallon of milk produced such a small amount of cheese.
Kind of put th
ings into perspective.
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