I went through a phase recently of being obsessed with growing sprouts in a jar. So easy! How did I not know about this before? Cheaper, and fresher, and fabulouser than buying them. And so easy! Did I already say that? Ok: you need a jar with a mesh lid. You can make one or buy one (I bought one for $3). There are fancy sprout people that sell fancy sprout accoutrements which if you get very excited you might want, but are really unnecessary to get you going.
1. Put a spoonful of sprout seeds or lentils or whatever seed-y things in the jar and soak overnight.
2. Pour out water through handy mesh lid. Rinse with fresh water. Drain. Leave at an angle so it can continue to drain.
3. Repeat that evening, and each morning and evening for the next few days.
4. Watch as they grow! It's like magic. Depending on the sprout, it will take 3-6 days to be delicious.
5. Eat! Marvel at the crispness. Nature's goodness, direct to you. By you.
I'm sure I must have planted potato or avocado or something in second grade, I mean that's the kind of science kids do, but somehow the magic of it did not quite grab me back then. Now? It is absurdly exciting to check on the sprouts every day. Or hour. I'm almost tempted to sit and watch them, they grow that fast. I want to take pictures and make a flip book.
So actually, I have to admit, I haven't made them recently - we weren't eating them quite fast enough, and then had lots and lots at once so they wouldn't go bad, and they lost a bit of their charm. Tarnished, like. But not forever! I envision sprouting again soon! I remain enamored of growing sprouts on a live-aboard boat, or tying a bag to my backpack as I hike through the woods, fresh vegetables ready to join my dehydrated meals... heck, apparently just sprouting the beans a tiny bit makes them much healthier. But this is not about healthy. This is about magic. Something from nothing. Apparent exemption from the conservation of mass. I know, I know, not really - there's all sorts of science to explain it. Shush up with that. It's magic.
4.22.2009
4.03.2009
April is the Cruellest Month
Just as things were warming up, it snows. I'm really over it. And I really don't have much to say tonight, but I was feeling guilty for letting this languish unattended to for so long. And hey, it's poetry month! So, a poem, one of my new favorites:
Bridal Shower
Perhaps, in a distant café,
four or five people are talking
with the four or five people
who are chatting on their cell phones this morning
in my favorite café.
And perhaps someone there,
someone like me, is watching them as they frown,
or smile, or shrug
at their invisible friends or lovers,
jabbing the air for emphasis.
And, like me, he misses the old days,
when talking to yourself
meant you were crazy,
back when being crazy was a big deal,
not just an acronym
or something you could take a pill for.
I liked it
when people who were talking to themselves
might actually have been talking to God
or an angel.
You respected people like that.
You didn't want to kill them,
as I want to kill the woman at the next table
with the little blue light on her ear
who has been telling the emptiness in front of her
about her daughter's bridal shower
in astonishing detail
for the past thirty minutes.
O person like me,
phoneless in your distant café,
I wish we could meet to discuss this,
and perhaps you would help me
murder this woman on her cell phone,
after which we could have a cup of coffee,
maybe a bagel, and talk to each other,
face to face.
--George Bilgere
Bridal Shower
Perhaps, in a distant café,
four or five people are talking
with the four or five people
who are chatting on their cell phones this morning
in my favorite café.
And perhaps someone there,
someone like me, is watching them as they frown,
or smile, or shrug
at their invisible friends or lovers,
jabbing the air for emphasis.
And, like me, he misses the old days,
when talking to yourself
meant you were crazy,
back when being crazy was a big deal,
not just an acronym
or something you could take a pill for.
I liked it
when people who were talking to themselves
might actually have been talking to God
or an angel.
You respected people like that.
You didn't want to kill them,
as I want to kill the woman at the next table
with the little blue light on her ear
who has been telling the emptiness in front of her
about her daughter's bridal shower
in astonishing detail
for the past thirty minutes.
O person like me,
phoneless in your distant café,
I wish we could meet to discuss this,
and perhaps you would help me
murder this woman on her cell phone,
after which we could have a cup of coffee,
maybe a bagel, and talk to each other,
face to face.
--George Bilgere
2.24.2009
Mardi Gras!
This Tuesday, she is fat. So fat, and so full of mischief. And meat. And candy and masks. Dancing. Oranges. Small man-shaped dolls on fire. Music and parades. Huzzah!
The first time I ever saw Venice was during Carnevale, and it was fabulous - added to an already magical city. We stayed out all night following the revelry. Someday I'll get to Brazil, and samba my heart out. One of my alternate timeline lives involved moving to New Orleans, living across the river in Algiers and working at Mardi Gras World, building floats for the parade.
And so people will be celebrating all over the world, one of my favorite holidays, but nobody celebrates it locally. I mean, I've got my beads on and will take some good cheer to the bars tonight - toot toot! - but it promises to be somewhat sad and lonely, as Mardi Gras celebrations go. I remember the days when the only thing keeping my shirt on was concern I might see a student's parent... maybe I'll be able to rustle up that kind of ruckus and take it to the streets. A one-woman carnival!
Tonight, anything is possible.
The first time I ever saw Venice was during Carnevale, and it was fabulous - added to an already magical city. We stayed out all night following the revelry. Someday I'll get to Brazil, and samba my heart out. One of my alternate timeline lives involved moving to New Orleans, living across the river in Algiers and working at Mardi Gras World, building floats for the parade.
And so people will be celebrating all over the world, one of my favorite holidays, but nobody celebrates it locally. I mean, I've got my beads on and will take some good cheer to the bars tonight - toot toot! - but it promises to be somewhat sad and lonely, as Mardi Gras celebrations go. I remember the days when the only thing keeping my shirt on was concern I might see a student's parent... maybe I'll be able to rustle up that kind of ruckus and take it to the streets. A one-woman carnival!
Tonight, anything is possible.
1.20.2009
What If The Mightiest Word Is Love
The title is a line of Elizabeth Alexander's poem from today's Inauguration of Barack Hussein Obama. When I asked my students what they thought of it, they said the only part they remembered was "A teacher says 'Take out your pencils. Begin.'" Actually, they thought the whole event was awesome. I do too.
This is going to be one of those crystallized moments of history, the few that you always remember where you were, what you were doing, who you were with...JFK getting shot, man on the moon, 9/11... There was a sparkle in the air, even from 3000 miles away, with a somewhat choppy internet stream. This is the America I believe in, the one worth belonging to and fighting for, the one that lifts hearts and shows us a better way, the one in the dream; this is my America.
It's a perfect time to be studying US history; we just wrapped the Constitution. I can almost feel the presence of those men as they wrote the documents that define our lives. Scandalous, whoring drunks they may have been, but the Founding Fathers did something incredible (as did the women, of course, though we don't see their names!). The enormity of creating a nation - a work still in progress - is just mind-boggling. But today. Oh, President Obama. Yes, we can. I know all our problems aren't going to disappear; we aren't going to turn into magical unicorns prancing through starlight, it's not the Age of Aquarius...but for a moment, I can drop my cynical remarks and angry reactions, and just feel. Feel the joy, and hope, and redemption, and yes, love.
What else could be the mightiest word? What kind of a world can we create?
This is going to be one of those crystallized moments of history, the few that you always remember where you were, what you were doing, who you were with...JFK getting shot, man on the moon, 9/11... There was a sparkle in the air, even from 3000 miles away, with a somewhat choppy internet stream. This is the America I believe in, the one worth belonging to and fighting for, the one that lifts hearts and shows us a better way, the one in the dream; this is my America.
It's a perfect time to be studying US history; we just wrapped the Constitution. I can almost feel the presence of those men as they wrote the documents that define our lives. Scandalous, whoring drunks they may have been, but the Founding Fathers did something incredible (as did the women, of course, though we don't see their names!). The enormity of creating a nation - a work still in progress - is just mind-boggling. But today. Oh, President Obama. Yes, we can. I know all our problems aren't going to disappear; we aren't going to turn into magical unicorns prancing through starlight, it's not the Age of Aquarius...but for a moment, I can drop my cynical remarks and angry reactions, and just feel. Feel the joy, and hope, and redemption, and yes, love.
What else could be the mightiest word? What kind of a world can we create?
1.01.2009
12.01.2008
31 Flavors
I turned 31 a few days ago, so here are 31 things about me, in no particular order:
1. I am currently obsessed with Flight of the Conchords.
2. Although it doesn't quite live up to the hype, I do not regret my Furminator purchase.
3. I have traveled to more than thirty-one countries.
4. I dressed as an Ewok for Halloween when I was about five (and living in Kenya), and my costume consisted of strips of brown paper attached to a pair of overalls, long brown socks on my hands, and a sign aroud my neck saying "I am an Ewok." There may have been ears.
5. Over winter break during my senior year of high school, I read everything by Albert Camus that I could find.
6. I almost always have homemade kimchi in my fridge.
7. Also: homemade yogurt.
8. I will happily sing either the boy or girl part of Meatloaf's "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" for karaoke.
9. I am too old to headbang. Or perhaps simply out of shape for it.
10. When I was little, I used to bring (or make my mom bring) a peanut butter sandwich to restaurants in case they didn't have anything I would like. Now, I'll try just about anything at least once. I like to give things a second chance. But I'm done with oysters.
11. I wish I knew Yiddish.
12. I don't think there is nearly enough dancing in our world today.
13. I am a bit of a beer snob.
14. I often buy wine for the label. Clever goes a long way with me. And cheap.
15. I have probably read Robert Heinlein's "Time Enough For Love" more times than any other book, although not recently.
16. My dog is a masterful frisbee-catcher.
17. I do not believe in God.
18. I often swear in Italian or French.
19. I have shaved my head twice.
20. I write and perform history raps for my students. This is a line from the most recent, about the American Revolution: "Sugar Act, Stamp Act, Tea Act too; Intolerable and hollerable, what're we gonna do?"
21. Power tools, while not necessarily a girl's best friend, make me happy.
22. My favorite bumper sticker says "Read a fucking book," but I won't actually put it on my car.
23. I crocheted a bag using plastic grocery bags as "yarn."
24. I learned how to slaughter and pluck and butcher a chicken.
25. I am growing vegetables for the first time.
26. The best sunrise I have ever seen was atop a Saharan dune, reached by a camel ride and a hike.
27. I quote from "Clerks" on a somewhat regular basis, though it's been years since I've watched it.
28. I knew the Weird Al version of a lot of songs before I ever heard the originals.
29. When I get bored, I dye my hair in bright colors or rearrange my house.
30. I am a stickler for spelling and grammar.
31. I believe in civic engagement, and making the world a better place.
1. I am currently obsessed with Flight of the Conchords.
2. Although it doesn't quite live up to the hype, I do not regret my Furminator purchase.
3. I have traveled to more than thirty-one countries.
4. I dressed as an Ewok for Halloween when I was about five (and living in Kenya), and my costume consisted of strips of brown paper attached to a pair of overalls, long brown socks on my hands, and a sign aroud my neck saying "I am an Ewok." There may have been ears.
5. Over winter break during my senior year of high school, I read everything by Albert Camus that I could find.
6. I almost always have homemade kimchi in my fridge.
7. Also: homemade yogurt.
8. I will happily sing either the boy or girl part of Meatloaf's "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" for karaoke.
9. I am too old to headbang. Or perhaps simply out of shape for it.
10. When I was little, I used to bring (or make my mom bring) a peanut butter sandwich to restaurants in case they didn't have anything I would like. Now, I'll try just about anything at least once. I like to give things a second chance. But I'm done with oysters.
11. I wish I knew Yiddish.
12. I don't think there is nearly enough dancing in our world today.
13. I am a bit of a beer snob.
14. I often buy wine for the label. Clever goes a long way with me. And cheap.
15. I have probably read Robert Heinlein's "Time Enough For Love" more times than any other book, although not recently.
16. My dog is a masterful frisbee-catcher.
17. I do not believe in God.
18. I often swear in Italian or French.
19. I have shaved my head twice.
20. I write and perform history raps for my students. This is a line from the most recent, about the American Revolution: "Sugar Act, Stamp Act, Tea Act too; Intolerable and hollerable, what're we gonna do?"
21. Power tools, while not necessarily a girl's best friend, make me happy.
22. My favorite bumper sticker says "Read a fucking book," but I won't actually put it on my car.
23. I crocheted a bag using plastic grocery bags as "yarn."
24. I learned how to slaughter and pluck and butcher a chicken.
25. I am growing vegetables for the first time.
26. The best sunrise I have ever seen was atop a Saharan dune, reached by a camel ride and a hike.
27. I quote from "Clerks" on a somewhat regular basis, though it's been years since I've watched it.
28. I knew the Weird Al version of a lot of songs before I ever heard the originals.
29. When I get bored, I dye my hair in bright colors or rearrange my house.
30. I am a stickler for spelling and grammar.
31. I believe in civic engagement, and making the world a better place.
11.23.2008
Jellied Clam Juice Ring
Yes, that's more from the Joy of Cooking, but doesn't it sound like some arcane sexual practice? Or object, maybe. Let's not go there, it's can only lead down a bad road.
I don't really have anything else to say, but I've been going around repeating "jellied clam juice ring" for days now, and hoped that putting it out there to the world might help me stop. But you should try it! It gets all kind of interesting responses. It's all I can do to keep it inside when I'm at school. For the most part, the little switch in my brain works beautifully, and I don't spout inappropriate things around 12-year-olds, but as soon as I get home, boy howdy.
This cookbook has become something of an obsession. I suggested that we limit our eating to its recipes for a year, or a month, but I didn't get much enthusiasm - maybe the deep-fried calf brains were a turnoff? I think I will try the bananas wrapped in bacon, though. How could that be anything but delicious? A perfect addition to thanksgiving tradition.
I don't really have anything else to say, but I've been going around repeating "jellied clam juice ring" for days now, and hoped that putting it out there to the world might help me stop. But you should try it! It gets all kind of interesting responses. It's all I can do to keep it inside when I'm at school. For the most part, the little switch in my brain works beautifully, and I don't spout inappropriate things around 12-year-olds, but as soon as I get home, boy howdy.
This cookbook has become something of an obsession. I suggested that we limit our eating to its recipes for a year, or a month, but I didn't get much enthusiasm - maybe the deep-fried calf brains were a turnoff? I think I will try the bananas wrapped in bacon, though. How could that be anything but delicious? A perfect addition to thanksgiving tradition.
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