Ravings of a Textual Deviant

Last year, for Passover, my pal Sean came up with an awesome gefilte fish recipe.

Yes, I did just use the word “awesome” to describe gefilte fish.

If you’ve only ever had the kind from the jar (or like me, one whiff of the jarred stuff puts you right off your matzah ball soup) then just let the trauma wipe it from your mind and start over. As Sean says, “if one has a food processor, there is no reason not to make it oneself”.

And so, without further ado, the recipe, as emailed to me by the chef…

“The recipes (I used more than one) say the it requires about 1/2 lb of fish per person.
1. Basically - 1 part salmon to two parts whitefish (I used tilapia and cod)*
2. enough broth (fish) to cover (I used 2 quarts in the pan I have and cooked the fish in two batches.)3. 3 tsp. salt (or to taste)
4. 3 onions
5. 4 carrots
6. 2 Tblsp sugar
7. 1 parsnip
8. 3-4 eggs
9. pepper to taste
10. 1/2 cup cold water
11. 1/3 cup matzah meal

1. In large saucepan bring broth to boil. Add 2 tsp. salt, slice 1 onion and 3 carrots, place into broth. Add sugar cover and simmer about 20 minutes while preparing fish.
2. In cuisinart chop remaining onions, carrots and parsnip - set aside in large bowl.
3. Grind fish in cuisinart (if you want the fishballs softer use more whitefish) - mix fish and chopped vegetables.
4. Add eggs one at a time to mixture, then the remaining salt, pepper, and cold water. Mix thoroughly.
5. Add enough matzah meal so that the fish can be formed.
6. Form fish into oval patties about 3 inches long.
7. Remove stuff from the broth. Place fillets into simmering stock. Cover and cook for 20-30 minutes. Shake the saucepan on occasion to keep the patties from sticking.
8. When done - carefully remove remove and place on platter. Allow to cool at least 15 minutes. May be refigerated until needed.”

*There is a fish called “whitefish” that my mother thinks the recipe is referring to, and carp is also more traditional than salmon; however Sean’s version is sufficiently tasty that I would not recommend changing anything.

I’ve got the cell phone of the dinosaurs (8+ years old) and as much as I like it, I think it’s going to have to be replaced. I’ve been looking around online, but I am not really happy with anything I see. I have looked at the Nokia 2610, and while the manufacturer’s reputation is generally good, that particular model is not getting good user reviews. The Sony Ericsson j300a, likewise, seems to meet my specs but doesn’t rouse much enthusiasm among users.

I turn to you, the Reading Public, for suggestions.

I’m looking for a very basic cell phone. I want definitely DON’T want a camera; one of MPOW’s client sites specifically prohibits them. I don’t need, and prefer not to have, text messaging, internet, music, video, GPS, or anything else fancy-schmancy. I want a phone, not a multi-functional device.

I am indifferent to bar or flip body styles, but I don’t think I’d like a slider or a twist.

I DO want quality–something that is reliable, sturdy, holds a charge, offers a good amount of talk time, is easy to navigate, and has excellent reception and speaker/microphone. International calling would be nice, but (alas) I don’t get out of the country enough for it to be necessary.

I would like to stay under $100, but will go higher if it’s exactly what I want. Any suggestions, either what to look into or what avoid, are welcome.

Me: Here’s my first draft of the May presentation and notes. All feedback is welcome.

Reviewer: I found only one minor spelling mistake (see attached). You know I gotta find at least one.

Me: Goodness knows, I’m awful at finding my own spelling mistakes—I count on your orthographical vigilance.

Reviewer: Who you callin’ orthographical?

Me: Everyone’s a diacritic.

Minx went into the veterinary opthamologist yesterday and had his dignity greatly offended, both by the ride in the box and by being wrapped up in a towel for the exam.

His corneal infection is completely gone, and the blood vessels and edema will go away in 4-6 weeks. No need for surgery. No more oral meds, and we’re down to eyedrops twice a day instead of six times—a great relief to all involved, I assure you.

His Supreme Catness is expected to make a full recovery.

By now it’s all over the news that we had an earthquake very early this morning, biggest one of the century for the area, and so on.

Yeah, it woke me up. Very briefly. I distinctly remember thinking that I hadn’t heard any of the low-frequency sound waves, but couldn’t imagine what else it might be. So, I rolled over and went back to sleep. I don’t get out of bed for anything less than 5.5.

I was in San Francisco in 1989, for the Loma Prieta quake. That was a 7.1, and there were fires, deaths, and really slow building inspectors. We had aftershocks that were 5+.

However, after having a spring full of flooding, a possible meteor over northern Indiana, and an earthquake, and Passover starting tomorrow…well, let’s just say that if I see a single locust, or a rain of toads, I’m outta here.

ETA: It turns out that it was not a meteor; it was a military jet breaking the sound barrier, which is kind of a shame, as a meteor makes a much better story.

After my local supermarket stopped carrying cinnamon chips, I was distraught at the thought of not being able to make cinnamon chip scones. A dear enabler friend recently found several bags and brought them to me, but those won’t last forever. Especially as I have already made two batches of scones and show no signs of stopping…although I probably should.

Fortunately, with the package to hand, I was able to check the manufacturer’s website and discovered that the chips are sold at local Meijer and SuperTarget stores. Those aren’t places I normally shop, let alone get groceries, but I am willing to go out of my way for a specialty item.

Let the NOMs begin!

You don’t necessarily think of a kitchen as a room with a lot of ergonomic problems…unless, like me, you are under five feet tall and find yourself reaching up to stir pots on the stovetop. My mom, who is a good cook when she puts her mind to it, is two inches shorter than I am, and has to reach up to get into her kitchen drawers.

Both mom and I have been known to climb onto the counter top and stand there, heads well clear of the ceiling, to reach the back of the lowest shelf in an upper cabinet. I remember well the first time Fiancé found me standing on the counter; I got the look, as if what I was doing was weird, or something. I don’t think it’s weird at all—my aunt and at least one of my cousins have also done it. I wouldn’t be surprised if my brother did too, although he’s the only one of us who could easily vault up there, acrobat that he is.

But I digress.

At any rate, a standard-sized kitchen can quite literally be a pain when you’re petite. One of my shorter (but not that short) male friends solved the problem by putting in a bank of bathroom cabinets, which are a couple of inches lower than kitchen cabinets, when he redid his kitchen. It’s a good idea, but I am nowhere near a kitchen remodel, nor is mom.

Mom solved the problem in her own, inimitable way, though. She went out and got an inexpensive pair of 4″ platform, wedge-heeled espadrilles, which she now wears to cook. She found that it made a huge difference, and she was so enthused about her cooking shoes that I thought I’d give it a try.

Now, anyone who knows me is probably thinking something along the lines of “any excuse for a new pair of shoes, eh?” Not this time; my tastes run pretty much opposite to the platform, wedge-heeled, and espadrilles families of shoes. Partly because I think that large, awkward, clunky shoes look even more awkward and clunky on small feet, but mostly because most platform, wedge-heeled, and espadrille shoes are just ugly.

Be that as it may, I ended up with a pair of 3″ wedge-heeled sandals that are not only comfortable, they are aesthetically acceptable, even though I’m not really a blue-plaid-shoe person. Still, they make such a big difference in being able to see what I’m doing, reach things, and use the countertops comfortably that I’m will to overlook their stylistic shortcomings. I highly reccomend the idea.

Fiancé is of the opinion that generally, I am the snarky one, where as he is snide.

“So, counselor,” I asked him, “what exactly is snark?”

His response was that, in the fashion of the Supreme Court, although he could not define snark, he knew it when he saw it.

That statement would be snarky, he added.

Whereas my response of “bravissimo” was merely snide.

Normally, I enjoy a good ride. But tonight, the “horse” is old and sickly; the gifts paltry; the cigar reeking and cheap. No way to treat an honored guest—or ghost, eh? So I go looking for some fun.

There’s a young man’s voice nearby, “…I try to make my way to the ordinary world,” he sings.
Sounds like a good idea to me. I move into the singer.

But it’s not a good idea. There’s nothing there, no flesh. Instead, I see a web of light. I’m the fly, now, with nothing to do but wait for Mister Spider.

Fiancé and I got our marriage license today. We could get married at any moment.

Squee!