Today was a good day. I took a hoe to all the weeds and dirt among a row of potatoes, and upon seeing the farmer doing a much better job on his row, went back and redid mine to standards I could accept. Not quite as good as him, but not too shabby. Sometimes, when hoeing the rocky dirt, instead of the clank of metal hitting stone, I got a sound almost like metal hitting glass. Investigation showed some of the rocks looked an awful lot like broken-open geodes, and I was striking chunks of solid quartz. Next time I'm taking a break from farm work or shooting, I'll wash a few off in the creek and see if any make pretty paperweights.
The butter beans will be awfully sparse. When bean sprouts come up through the soil, they bring the bean with them - and to the few surviving roosters too canny for coyotes and foxes, the beans looked awfully tasty.
Some of the other plants also suffered from a cow getting loose. Fortunately, not everything has sprouted yet, so there was less damage than there could have been.
Cats like basil. Not quite as much as catnip, but I'm down to four out of the original twelve basil seedlings. I've started more seeds, and will try for better survival rates on round two.
Parsley seeds take a month to germinate. Once they've poked their first set of leaves above the soil, they then take weeks to get their first true leaves out. I'm clinging with hope to the advice that they take a long time in the beginning, but the more greenery they get, the faster they grow. (Next year, I think I'll just buy a plant from the nursery.)
I cannot find mint for sale anywhere. This is the south - land of mint juleps, right? Can I not find mint because everybody is already supposed to have it? Or did it get labeled as an invasive weed? Why may I not have my own minty weed with aspirations of kudzu held in check by minty peas, and mint teas, and lamb?
Strangely enough, I can find catnip. It may be a member of the mint family, but I refuse to plant it - no sense in training the beasts to dig about in the container garden.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Mine! .38 Special edition
Today, I shot a gun in a caliber I haven't been able to in years - .38 special. No, it was not a snubby, and no, it was not pink. Sadly, the Pachmayr Compac Pro grips weren't in purple, either. Calmer Half spent a couple of hours with ten different guns and at least six different grips once the guns were narrowed down, trying to find something comfortable to my hand. He finally found a pair of grips that came on a gun he'd gotten, and were way too small for his hands.
(This being one of those points gunnies and airplane restorers agree wholeheartedly on: "Never throw useful parts away! Even if you can't use them!" Poor Calmer Half is not so at ease with the lengths to which this is taken by airplane restoration, which continue on to say "All parts are useful, even if it'll take far more than you can do to rebuild them! They might be needed as a ferry part or template, or shim, or something, someday!")
So, now exercising the grand tradition of cats and wives, I have declared "What's mine is mine and what's yours is mine, and this is my gun now!" with his Smith & Wesson Model 65. He seems perfectly at ease with this, and indeed is making happy noises about me and concealed carry class.
Once we got back from the range, our housemate broke out the gun cleaning stuff, and taught me how to clean 'my' gun. Having cleaned it, it's as surely mine as when the "Just because you can fit into it again doesn't mean you should" shirt that Calmer Half unboxed gets absconded as my new nightshirt, and ends up in my laundry.
All this exercising at the gym we're doing is paying off. Calmer Half is finding new nightshirts for me, and I'm able to take the weight and recoil of more of his guns... Maybe, just maybe, soon it'll mean I have to go pants shopping for a smaller size, with belt loops that will actually hold up to a holster! ...Nah, not while I'm using up extra apples that started to go mealy by making apple pie.
I swear, I take the shirt off a man's... clean laundry pile, and one of his guns, and all he does is smile at me with this fond expression. It's darned hard to rile Calmer Half. I'm so glad he's mine!
(This being one of those points gunnies and airplane restorers agree wholeheartedly on: "Never throw useful parts away! Even if you can't use them!" Poor Calmer Half is not so at ease with the lengths to which this is taken by airplane restoration, which continue on to say "All parts are useful, even if it'll take far more than you can do to rebuild them! They might be needed as a ferry part or template, or shim, or something, someday!")
So, now exercising the grand tradition of cats and wives, I have declared "What's mine is mine and what's yours is mine, and this is my gun now!" with his Smith & Wesson Model 65. He seems perfectly at ease with this, and indeed is making happy noises about me and concealed carry class.
Once we got back from the range, our housemate broke out the gun cleaning stuff, and taught me how to clean 'my' gun. Having cleaned it, it's as surely mine as when the "Just because you can fit into it again doesn't mean you should" shirt that Calmer Half unboxed gets absconded as my new nightshirt, and ends up in my laundry.
All this exercising at the gym we're doing is paying off. Calmer Half is finding new nightshirts for me, and I'm able to take the weight and recoil of more of his guns... Maybe, just maybe, soon it'll mean I have to go pants shopping for a smaller size, with belt loops that will actually hold up to a holster! ...Nah, not while I'm using up extra apples that started to go mealy by making apple pie.
I swear, I take the shirt off a man's... clean laundry pile, and one of his guns, and all he does is smile at me with this fond expression. It's darned hard to rile Calmer Half. I'm so glad he's mine!
Monday, April 4, 2011
50nm at a time, stewing all the way
Today, I sat down and started plotting how to get from Alaska to Nashville. The first thousand miles are easy; I fly to Northway, and take the Alcan down, cutting a little east to cross the border at Montana instead of Seattle. Then, I started picking my way south down the mountains to Ogden, UT to visit a friend and crash on the couch. From there I tried to find an easy way out and east that didn't take me through Salt Lake City's airspace, and then a rough shot east with a descending southern curve.
Theoretically it's 3500 miles, with two couches (and more importantly, showers) assured between there and here. Hmm. More planning required.
While all this plotting and line-drawing was going on, a line of storms hit, and the house shuddered in the wind. I realized exactly why tying your plane down outside in the lower 48 seems less wise than in Alaska, and took a break from the computer to sear some cubed venison steak in a mix of olive oil and a hint of bacon grease, and follow with browning some minced garlic, then deglazing the pan with an oatmeal stout and a glass of lambrusco. (The original recipe called for sugar added, but lambrusco is a sweet enough red no extra sugar was needed.) With more thyme than I was comfortable with, a full tablespoon of my nemesis, Worcestershire sauce (Calmer Half loves the taste. I loathe it.), and two tablespoons of tomato baste, I added three cans of low-sodium beef broth and set it to simmer for an hour. Then I diced and sauteed potatoes, two carrots, and an onion in two tablespoons of butter. When the broth had simmered for the hour, I transferred it all to a crockpot to simmer merrily on high for another hour. Then I added a bag of frozen mixed vegetables and a teaspoon of pepper, and reset the crockpot to low. That kept the non-sauteed vegetables crisp and flavorful, while the rest of the stew blended together.
Then I pulled out the sourdough starter and the cast iron pan, and made Sourdough biscuits to go with the stew. Since my starter is thick, I added a little milk to thin it, and next time I'll cut the sugar to 1 tablespoon - but otherwise, followed the recipe at the end of the post. The biscuits came out of the oven as the stew was smelling irresistible, and our housemate finally made it home past downed trees and blacked out traffic lights. Dinner was good.
Now back to stewing over the route. Maybe there are state parks with camping facilities between Ogden and Nashville. Hmm. Maybe just cool places to land I could throw up a solar shower in the heat of the day, and fly in the evening calm to dry out my hair? Sadly, I have an addiction to hot water that makes being a dirty hippie slumming across the US a despicable thing to shun.
Irish Beef Stew Recipe with venison instead
Dutch Oven Sourdough Biscuits made in the oven with a cast iron pan
Theoretically it's 3500 miles, with two couches (and more importantly, showers) assured between there and here. Hmm. More planning required.
While all this plotting and line-drawing was going on, a line of storms hit, and the house shuddered in the wind. I realized exactly why tying your plane down outside in the lower 48 seems less wise than in Alaska, and took a break from the computer to sear some cubed venison steak in a mix of olive oil and a hint of bacon grease, and follow with browning some minced garlic, then deglazing the pan with an oatmeal stout and a glass of lambrusco. (The original recipe called for sugar added, but lambrusco is a sweet enough red no extra sugar was needed.) With more thyme than I was comfortable with, a full tablespoon of my nemesis, Worcestershire sauce (Calmer Half loves the taste. I loathe it.), and two tablespoons of tomato baste, I added three cans of low-sodium beef broth and set it to simmer for an hour. Then I diced and sauteed potatoes, two carrots, and an onion in two tablespoons of butter. When the broth had simmered for the hour, I transferred it all to a crockpot to simmer merrily on high for another hour. Then I added a bag of frozen mixed vegetables and a teaspoon of pepper, and reset the crockpot to low. That kept the non-sauteed vegetables crisp and flavorful, while the rest of the stew blended together.
Then I pulled out the sourdough starter and the cast iron pan, and made Sourdough biscuits to go with the stew. Since my starter is thick, I added a little milk to thin it, and next time I'll cut the sugar to 1 tablespoon - but otherwise, followed the recipe at the end of the post. The biscuits came out of the oven as the stew was smelling irresistible, and our housemate finally made it home past downed trees and blacked out traffic lights. Dinner was good.
Now back to stewing over the route. Maybe there are state parks with camping facilities between Ogden and Nashville. Hmm. Maybe just cool places to land I could throw up a solar shower in the heat of the day, and fly in the evening calm to dry out my hair? Sadly, I have an addiction to hot water that makes being a dirty hippie slumming across the US a despicable thing to shun.
Irish Beef Stew Recipe with venison instead
Dutch Oven Sourdough Biscuits made in the oven with a cast iron pan
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Cheating at Pot Pie
Looking through the freezer today, I noted a package full of ice that was supposed to contain meat. The label proclaimed it turkey sausages, which are rarely wonderful at the best of times. Fortunately, they were almost untouched by freezerburn. (Note for bachelors: the nice packages of meat at the store with lots of air and space to display the meat inside are NOT good for freezing the meat! Remove it to a ziplock with the air pushed out and relevant meat & date information written in Sharpie! Your taste buds will thank you!)
How to turn unimpressive turkey sausages into good dinner? Why, by surrounding them with a thick, rich, flavorful gravy that will provide all the moisture and flavor, and vegetables that will give a good contrasting texture. Sounds like a recipe for pot pie to me!
Now, I cheated a little at first. By the time I had cooked the sausages enough to know they'd turn out to be okay, I did not want to wait another two hours while pie crust pastry relaxed in the fridge. I also object to paying $2.30 for $0.35 worth of ingredients, plus the half-hour it'd take to run to the store and buy pie crusts. So, instead of cutting refrigerated butter into flour, I reached into the freezer, where I store the bulk of the on-sale butter until ready to use. Also, instead of spilling salted flour all over myself and the floor while exercising restraint on cursing, I cut the frozen butter into the flour using the food processor. I adore technology! As for the very cold water - I just ran cold tap water into a glass of ice cubes before I started messing with the flour and butter, and it was plenty chilled to dribble on and fork the dough together. In the end, the dough rested for roughly 30 minutes while I sauteed the veggies. (And the glass cutting board rested in the freezer, to make rolling dough easier.)
When it came to sauteeing the veggies, I cheated a bit. Sure, I used the last onion that was going soft, and the celery that was starting to wilt a little, and chopped one carrot - but after they were sauteed, I reached into the freezer and pulled out a bag of mixed vegetables. As they've been frozen, they will be softer than raw veggies, and don't really need to be sauteed as much as warmed up. Stirring them in, I added garlic, and black pepper, thyme, sage, and rosemary. As the veggies were steaming, I chopped up the sausages, and added the coins of meat back to the mix, stirring them so they soaked in the juices.
I rolled out the dough for the bottom crust, and draped it gently into the pie plate. Then I considered my filling. It wasn't quite thick and savory enough. I should make a roux or a gravy, to provide a savory note that the turkey sausages lacked...
Instead I reached into the pantry shelf, and cracked a can of condensed cream of mushroom soup. I try very hard not to use the soup mixes - I try to make everything from scratch. I view it as a failure to resort to them - in fact, my test for a good slow-cooker cookbook is how many recipes in it do NOT call for "can of cream of X soup." But I was tired, and it was late, and dinner was already 45 minutes of baking away...
It tasted wonderful. Calmer Half thoroughly enjoyed it, and Housemate stated that this should definitely go on the make again list. The buttery pie crust was light, crispy, and flaky - even the bottom crust. The filling was wonderful, savory and redolent with herbs, and dense with meat and vegetables. And if it was this good with turkey sausage with a touch of freezerburn, I think it's going to be wonderful with some of the venison still in the freezer and awaiting a dish to delight its hunter.
To paraphrase Larry Corriea, "If it's cheating and it rocks, then it rocks!"
Flaky Buttery Pie Crust Recipe
How to turn unimpressive turkey sausages into good dinner? Why, by surrounding them with a thick, rich, flavorful gravy that will provide all the moisture and flavor, and vegetables that will give a good contrasting texture. Sounds like a recipe for pot pie to me!
Now, I cheated a little at first. By the time I had cooked the sausages enough to know they'd turn out to be okay, I did not want to wait another two hours while pie crust pastry relaxed in the fridge. I also object to paying $2.30 for $0.35 worth of ingredients, plus the half-hour it'd take to run to the store and buy pie crusts. So, instead of cutting refrigerated butter into flour, I reached into the freezer, where I store the bulk of the on-sale butter until ready to use. Also, instead of spilling salted flour all over myself and the floor while exercising restraint on cursing, I cut the frozen butter into the flour using the food processor. I adore technology! As for the very cold water - I just ran cold tap water into a glass of ice cubes before I started messing with the flour and butter, and it was plenty chilled to dribble on and fork the dough together. In the end, the dough rested for roughly 30 minutes while I sauteed the veggies. (And the glass cutting board rested in the freezer, to make rolling dough easier.)
When it came to sauteeing the veggies, I cheated a bit. Sure, I used the last onion that was going soft, and the celery that was starting to wilt a little, and chopped one carrot - but after they were sauteed, I reached into the freezer and pulled out a bag of mixed vegetables. As they've been frozen, they will be softer than raw veggies, and don't really need to be sauteed as much as warmed up. Stirring them in, I added garlic, and black pepper, thyme, sage, and rosemary. As the veggies were steaming, I chopped up the sausages, and added the coins of meat back to the mix, stirring them so they soaked in the juices.
I rolled out the dough for the bottom crust, and draped it gently into the pie plate. Then I considered my filling. It wasn't quite thick and savory enough. I should make a roux or a gravy, to provide a savory note that the turkey sausages lacked...
Instead I reached into the pantry shelf, and cracked a can of condensed cream of mushroom soup. I try very hard not to use the soup mixes - I try to make everything from scratch. I view it as a failure to resort to them - in fact, my test for a good slow-cooker cookbook is how many recipes in it do NOT call for "can of cream of X soup." But I was tired, and it was late, and dinner was already 45 minutes of baking away...
It tasted wonderful. Calmer Half thoroughly enjoyed it, and Housemate stated that this should definitely go on the make again list. The buttery pie crust was light, crispy, and flaky - even the bottom crust. The filling was wonderful, savory and redolent with herbs, and dense with meat and vegetables. And if it was this good with turkey sausage with a touch of freezerburn, I think it's going to be wonderful with some of the venison still in the freezer and awaiting a dish to delight its hunter.
To paraphrase Larry Corriea, "If it's cheating and it rocks, then it rocks!"
Flaky Buttery Pie Crust Recipe
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Nothing Thrown Out
Yesterday I wanted to make something with chives, to celebrate the fact that they're flourishing in the yard. (It's kind of strange that I'm used to thinking of chives as expensive herbs when bought fresh in the store, and common as freeze-dried herbs. Meanwhile, Calmer Half didn't even know what a chive was, and Housemate only thought of them as "darned weed." Thus does abundance blind us to value.)
So I set out to make Rosemary-Sage Burgers with Apple Slaw and Chive Mayo. Which would have been awesome, if I hadn't been interrupted right before putting the burgers on, and one thing after another that ended up being a nuke leftovers night.
Today, the rosemary-sage burgers were turned into meatballs by Calmer Half while Housemate and I were getting back from testing our newly rebuilt boat motor out on the lake. So, left with the apple slaw slowly oxidizing into an unappetizing brown, I figured the chive mayo can easily go on a sandwich or three, but the apples needed to be used tonight.
So, into Apple Bread they go! (with a half cup less sugar, a little molasses to make it equivalent of a brown sugar mix, and a little extra spice.)
I'm not perfect at making sure all food is eaten - every now and then I have to clean the fridge, too. But I make a darned good try!
So I set out to make Rosemary-Sage Burgers with Apple Slaw and Chive Mayo. Which would have been awesome, if I hadn't been interrupted right before putting the burgers on, and one thing after another that ended up being a nuke leftovers night.
Today, the rosemary-sage burgers were turned into meatballs by Calmer Half while Housemate and I were getting back from testing our newly rebuilt boat motor out on the lake. So, left with the apple slaw slowly oxidizing into an unappetizing brown, I figured the chive mayo can easily go on a sandwich or three, but the apples needed to be used tonight.
So, into Apple Bread they go! (with a half cup less sugar, a little molasses to make it equivalent of a brown sugar mix, and a little extra spice.)
I'm not perfect at making sure all food is eaten - every now and then I have to clean the fridge, too. But I make a darned good try!
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Complacency blinds
We went out shooting last weekend. In my case, this often means I pack food for everyone, bake something for the farmer who is kind enough to let us use his land (Sourdough coffee cake with mixed berries and a graham cracker strudel crust this time), and generally putter around. Often, my round count for six hours out in the sun is under 30 shots - I find it more fun to watch other people shoot, and maybe try five shots with a new gun - or maybe just one shot.
Both Calmer Half and Oleg are very used to this pattern, though both keep encouraging me to try this pistol, try that pistol, try this revolver. Generally, I humor them, but rarely do I really actually enjoy shooting the gun.
Sunday, Oleg handed a SU-16 in .22 to me, while another photographer set up the tripod - this is probably going to end up in an ad somewhere down the road, if he got any good pictures. So I shrugged, knelt down, and considered the berm with its strewn clay pigeons through the scope. Carefully, mindful of the height of the scope above the barrel, I centered on the top of an orange clay, and waited for the small shakes of my arms and imperfections from breathing to settle into a pattern. Touch the trigger, and the gun pressed lightly into me as the clay exploded. I dropped the gun just a little, looking a foot down at the next clay, and started to work my way across the berm from left to right, removing every target with two magazines (I switched after a misfeed, suspecting the low-powered rounds in the first magazine were the problem). I wasn't doing so well, after over a year out of practice - it took two shots to clear a couple of them, and three for the second to the last as my concentration lapsed into noting my knees hurt, and the ground was cold and damp from a recent rain.
Calmer Half was very surprised at me, and was doing his darling best to make sure I knew he was very supportive, very happy at my participation, and very pleased at my skill. What also came across was that he was pretty startled I could kneel down and remove all the targets - but then, I haven't sat down and touched off seventy-five rounds of .22 with the aim of keeping them inside a dime since I moved to be with him. My poor CZ 452 has languished in the gun safe while all my male friends have tried to convince me that I should not regard handguns with loathing, and should train and carry one for defense. No wonder they've grown to expect I'm a bad shot and less than uninterested in guns at all.
I think I'll take my lovely little beauty out for the next trip, with a camp chair, and get in practice for pegging gophers in the garden at 50 yards. It's been too long since I practiced that particular form of meditation, emptying my mind of everything but the moment, the target, and the shot.
Both Calmer Half and Oleg are very used to this pattern, though both keep encouraging me to try this pistol, try that pistol, try this revolver. Generally, I humor them, but rarely do I really actually enjoy shooting the gun.
Sunday, Oleg handed a SU-16 in .22 to me, while another photographer set up the tripod - this is probably going to end up in an ad somewhere down the road, if he got any good pictures. So I shrugged, knelt down, and considered the berm with its strewn clay pigeons through the scope. Carefully, mindful of the height of the scope above the barrel, I centered on the top of an orange clay, and waited for the small shakes of my arms and imperfections from breathing to settle into a pattern. Touch the trigger, and the gun pressed lightly into me as the clay exploded. I dropped the gun just a little, looking a foot down at the next clay, and started to work my way across the berm from left to right, removing every target with two magazines (I switched after a misfeed, suspecting the low-powered rounds in the first magazine were the problem). I wasn't doing so well, after over a year out of practice - it took two shots to clear a couple of them, and three for the second to the last as my concentration lapsed into noting my knees hurt, and the ground was cold and damp from a recent rain.
Calmer Half was very surprised at me, and was doing his darling best to make sure I knew he was very supportive, very happy at my participation, and very pleased at my skill. What also came across was that he was pretty startled I could kneel down and remove all the targets - but then, I haven't sat down and touched off seventy-five rounds of .22 with the aim of keeping them inside a dime since I moved to be with him. My poor CZ 452 has languished in the gun safe while all my male friends have tried to convince me that I should not regard handguns with loathing, and should train and carry one for defense. No wonder they've grown to expect I'm a bad shot and less than uninterested in guns at all.
I think I'll take my lovely little beauty out for the next trip, with a camp chair, and get in practice for pegging gophers in the garden at 50 yards. It's been too long since I practiced that particular form of meditation, emptying my mind of everything but the moment, the target, and the shot.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Two Pictures To Make You Smile
Be warned, some profanity ahead (I don't have photoshop skills before coffee to clean it up).
First, via Amanda Palmer - who is a rock star, and swears like it. (Link NSFW) She was getting ready to go on a flight to Christchurch for a concert when the earthquake hit - and as fan and people who were going to help with the concert checked in on her comments section, one left this picture of life going on. She included it in a later post, too.
Second, via Stephen Bodio's Querencia - which is an awesome group blog on falconry, hunting, herding dogs, and many other fascinating things. (Link is SFW; I was a little surprised at the cuss word.)
First, via Amanda Palmer - who is a rock star, and swears like it. (Link NSFW) She was getting ready to go on a flight to Christchurch for a concert when the earthquake hit - and as fan and people who were going to help with the concert checked in on her comments section, one left this picture of life going on. She included it in a later post, too.
Second, via Stephen Bodio's Querencia - which is an awesome group blog on falconry, hunting, herding dogs, and many other fascinating things. (Link is SFW; I was a little surprised at the cuss word.)
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