My friends, forgive my absence. I got a job. It's remarkable, really, how much less time you have to ponder the more frilly things when you have to work four whole days per week. For the past few weeks I've been settling into my new schedule as a salesdude at Providence Bicycle. It's a large store with an even larger warren of storage and warehouse space. If we don't have it, it probably doesn't exist. My first day, I got lost and found myself face to face with the Wall Of Bottom Brackets. I expect I will eventually find the Room of Requirement--when I need it most.
I've already learned a great deal about bikes, bike shoes, bike tires, bike racks, and general accoutrements des bicyclettes. But mostly, I've learned that I know nothing. I thought I knew something about bicycles: I am a rank amateur. It's pretty exciting to think about how much I have to learn--how much is out there. Of course, knowing nothing hasn't stopped me from selling bicycles. I know enough to say "Oh yes and here's the Raleigh Detour 3.5 with, ah, lessee... SRAM components, of course. That's good." Luckily, from teaching bike safety classes through LAB and by being a watchful cyclist, I've spent a lot of time watching people ride bikes. So I can tell pretty quickly if the bike is a good fit, which has helped greatly. But still, I have yet to even come near the serious mountain or road bikes. I'm strictly selling hybrids and kids' bikes these days. But I'll get there.
I've been enjoying riding and learning about lots of different bikes. We have a ton of Electra cruiser-style bicycles and they're a lot of fun to ride. There's also a Schwinn adult sized tricycle that I enjoy riding around the store to celebrate whenever I sell a bike. On her first visit to the store, Laura came upon me gleefully tooling around on the tricycle. That thing is awesome. It has a backrest! Love it.
This weekend I am lucky enough to play host to a BMC Streetfire SSX. Triple-butted aluminum frame, Easton carbon fork, full 105, FSA carbon compact crankset and--perhaps best of all--Fulcrum Racing wheels. As Moses said to the burning bush, OMFG. It's a wonderful ride, mannered yet ready to snap. Before you all go worrying about such a nice piece of merchandise in my possession, let me put you at ease: its frame is dented and we can't sell it. Luckily there are plenty more of them out there and for $2100 one could be yours. Of course, if entry-level isn't what you're looking for, I'll be happy to show you something a little more your speed.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
The first harvest
The garden is coming along nicely. We thinned the mesclun mix and harvested some chives, sage and thyme. Our squash and beans are just popping up, while the peas are already six inches tall and clambering all over themselves. The nasturtium are coming up happily, and on Saturday we went to a local plant sale and bought some heirloom tomato and chili pepper seedlings. It's starting to look like a real garden out there. With this harvest, and admittedly I did some noshing earlier, I have now fulfilled my resolution to grow something and eat it. The seeds I sowed at the end of April have now turned into the tender lettuces you see in the picture. They are delicious, and it is a tremendously satisfying feeling to eat something I grew myself. Now I can't wait for the rest of it to come up. On a sadder note, my okra failed to sprout. I think I put it in too soon and the poor things froze. However, I have more seed and plan to put some more in later in the Summer. Also, my scallions made it to about two inches tall and have stalled. I'm going to give them another few weeks, but if they continue to sit on their hands I'm going to pull them up and eat them--and put something else in where they were. Kale, most likely.
Flush with my success, I called my sister in Virginia, who gleefully informed me that she's been getting CSA deliveries for six weeks already. And that they continue into December. Ah, New England...
Monday, May 18, 2009
Chow Rhode Island, Episode 5: Stuffies
"If I gave you some quahogs, would you know what to do with them?"
I didn't want to lie to Uncle Wayne, so rather than tell him that I'd have no idea what to do with some quahogs, I simply smiled expectantly, made some positive-but-noncommittal noises, and followed him to the cooler. He looked at me skeptically and said, "I'll just give you a few." A minute later, I was the proud owner of a bag full of freshly-dug quahogs. After a brief consult, Laura and I decided to use them to make stuffies.
A brief note about quahogs: Everywhere else in the world they'd be called clams. This excellent fact sheet from Rhode Island Sea Grant describes some of the vast array of names these mollusks possess, and the interesting source of their Latin scientific name. Quahogs are big time in Rhode Island. Many local delicacies are based upon these fist-sized bivalves. So it was with great expectations that we brought home our bag of quahogs and made us some stuffies.
Subject: Stuffies
Aliases: None
Major Features: Chopped quahogs, onion, breadcrumbs
Minor Features: Dizzying array of seasonings, cheeses, and preparation techniques
We got some pointers from the locals about how to make our own stuffies, then read a bunch of recipes. Laura and I decided to each make our own variety, but the salient features of each were the same. Shucked, quahogs chopped in the food processor with onion, breadcrumbs, seasonings, and raw bacon, then stuffed back into their shells and baked. Laura did a rough-chopped version with tomato and parsley and I did a "salsa verde" style with cilantro, parsley, capers, and Ritz crackers.
Assessment: Delicious. The bacon rendered during baking and soaked everything through with goopy deliciousness. I also think a dollop of olive oil would have done the trick too, but man they were great. Chopping the meat and some of its own juice in the processor along with the seasonings gave the stuffies a uniform texture and slight tang. Both the varieties Laura and I made were tasty, and very different.
Conclusion: I can't say if these were "traditional" at all, but after reading a number of recipes it seems like what we did was pretty close to what most folks will do. The neighbors seemed to like them. The clam juice really brought everything together. They were very tasty and I would absolutely make them again. I expect that pretty much anything you care to put in your stuffies will be good.
And, as a bonus, I didn't throw up even a little. It seems my childhood clam allergy is a thing of the past. Or maybe I'm still allergic to clams, but quahogs are another thing entirely.
I didn't want to lie to Uncle Wayne, so rather than tell him that I'd have no idea what to do with some quahogs, I simply smiled expectantly, made some positive-but-noncommittal noises, and followed him to the cooler. He looked at me skeptically and said, "I'll just give you a few." A minute later, I was the proud owner of a bag full of freshly-dug quahogs. After a brief consult, Laura and I decided to use them to make stuffies.
A brief note about quahogs: Everywhere else in the world they'd be called clams. This excellent fact sheet from Rhode Island Sea Grant describes some of the vast array of names these mollusks possess, and the interesting source of their Latin scientific name. Quahogs are big time in Rhode Island. Many local delicacies are based upon these fist-sized bivalves. So it was with great expectations that we brought home our bag of quahogs and made us some stuffies.
Subject: Stuffies
Aliases: None
Major Features: Chopped quahogs, onion, breadcrumbs
Minor Features: Dizzying array of seasonings, cheeses, and preparation techniques
We got some pointers from the locals about how to make our own stuffies, then read a bunch of recipes. Laura and I decided to each make our own variety, but the salient features of each were the same. Shucked, quahogs chopped in the food processor with onion, breadcrumbs, seasonings, and raw bacon, then stuffed back into their shells and baked. Laura did a rough-chopped version with tomato and parsley and I did a "salsa verde" style with cilantro, parsley, capers, and Ritz crackers.
Assessment: Delicious. The bacon rendered during baking and soaked everything through with goopy deliciousness. I also think a dollop of olive oil would have done the trick too, but man they were great. Chopping the meat and some of its own juice in the processor along with the seasonings gave the stuffies a uniform texture and slight tang. Both the varieties Laura and I made were tasty, and very different.
Conclusion: I can't say if these were "traditional" at all, but after reading a number of recipes it seems like what we did was pretty close to what most folks will do. The neighbors seemed to like them. The clam juice really brought everything together. They were very tasty and I would absolutely make them again. I expect that pretty much anything you care to put in your stuffies will be good.
And, as a bonus, I didn't throw up even a little. It seems my childhood clam allergy is a thing of the past. Or maybe I'm still allergic to clams, but quahogs are another thing entirely.
Friday, May 15, 2009
A Proper Cup of Coffee in a Copper Coffee Cup
This one, like most conversations about coffee, starts with Johnny Appleseed. Born John Chapman in 1774 in Leominster, MA, Johnny Appleseed was, in fact, a real person. He spent much of his life traveling around the midwest planting and tending to apple orchards and, apparently, wearing a pot upon his head. A 4-quart saucepan by my estimate. So he planted apple trees and tra la la la went on his merry way--but why does that make him a folk hero? People like eating apples, but not that much. As it is, the apples Mr. Seed was planting weren't the kind of apples you'd like to eat. Eating them wasn't the point at all. The point was to make hard cider. Not the hefty boozy stuff we have today, a mild kind of low-alcohol applejack. The reason this was so important was that during those days there wasn't a whole lot of potable water. Turning it into booze was the only sure way to sterilize the drinking water. And so, everyone just drank applejack all the time. And so, you have a population that was just a little bit sauced all the time. And you wonder why Johnny Appleseed is a folk hero.
By now I'm sure you're all wondering "where the hell is he headed with this?" And that's a reasonable question. Like most conversations about coffee, we're headed to the Industrial Revolution. It's 1894. You're an up-and-coming London steel tycoon. You've got these huge factories, sophisticated supply and distribution lines, and plenty of potential employees crowding into squalid apartments and desperate for dangerous, low-wage jobs. But they're all just a wee bit drunk. Getting them to work at 8am is sort of a hassle. What do you do? Replace that applejack and near-beer with coffee, of course. As much as technology, globalization, urban crowding, and the railroads drove the Industrial Revolution, so too did coffee. While it had been available to Europe for over 150 years, for much of that time coffee was seen as an indulgence, or even a sin. Nothing a few hundred temperance societies couldn't straighten out.
I love coffee. Of course applejack in the morning sounds nice too, but then I'm unemployed. I've held two different jobs that involved making straight coffee and espresso drinks, but still (or, perhaps, because of that) I struggle to make good coffee at home. I'm happy to write off my difficulty with good espresso at home for lack of proper equipment. Once you've used a professional espresso machine, my friends, I guarantee--you can never go back. But as for regular drip, I've tried everything. Cheap coffeemakers, expensive coffeemakers, home grinding, pre-ground, French Press, melitta method. Coffee is so simple--crushed roasted beans and water--yet so complex. The type of bean, roast, grind, water, temperature, extraction duration, and method all play a part in this complex dance. Brewing good coffee requires delicacy and precision: two things I lack before I've had a cup of coffee. Our French press broke, so for the past few years Laura and I have been using the melitta method, with which it is definitely possible to produce good coffee. But still, we struggle with consistency. Possibly due to the fact that we rarely buy the same kind of coffee. But I've recently come upon a local roaster, and plan to try and stick to one of their offerings.
In the meantime, it's becoming iced coffee weather. Nothing cures a crummy pot of coffee like letting it cool and pouring it over ice. Or, even better, carbonating it. With a Guinness-like head, carbonated iced coffee is a drink that almost bridges the gap between coffee and beer. You can have your Appleseed, and still get to work.
By now I'm sure you're all wondering "where the hell is he headed with this?" And that's a reasonable question. Like most conversations about coffee, we're headed to the Industrial Revolution. It's 1894. You're an up-and-coming London steel tycoon. You've got these huge factories, sophisticated supply and distribution lines, and plenty of potential employees crowding into squalid apartments and desperate for dangerous, low-wage jobs. But they're all just a wee bit drunk. Getting them to work at 8am is sort of a hassle. What do you do? Replace that applejack and near-beer with coffee, of course. As much as technology, globalization, urban crowding, and the railroads drove the Industrial Revolution, so too did coffee. While it had been available to Europe for over 150 years, for much of that time coffee was seen as an indulgence, or even a sin. Nothing a few hundred temperance societies couldn't straighten out.
I love coffee. Of course applejack in the morning sounds nice too, but then I'm unemployed. I've held two different jobs that involved making straight coffee and espresso drinks, but still (or, perhaps, because of that) I struggle to make good coffee at home. I'm happy to write off my difficulty with good espresso at home for lack of proper equipment. Once you've used a professional espresso machine, my friends, I guarantee--you can never go back. But as for regular drip, I've tried everything. Cheap coffeemakers, expensive coffeemakers, home grinding, pre-ground, French Press, melitta method. Coffee is so simple--crushed roasted beans and water--yet so complex. The type of bean, roast, grind, water, temperature, extraction duration, and method all play a part in this complex dance. Brewing good coffee requires delicacy and precision: two things I lack before I've had a cup of coffee. Our French press broke, so for the past few years Laura and I have been using the melitta method, with which it is definitely possible to produce good coffee. But still, we struggle with consistency. Possibly due to the fact that we rarely buy the same kind of coffee. But I've recently come upon a local roaster, and plan to try and stick to one of their offerings.
In the meantime, it's becoming iced coffee weather. Nothing cures a crummy pot of coffee like letting it cool and pouring it over ice. Or, even better, carbonating it. With a Guinness-like head, carbonated iced coffee is a drink that almost bridges the gap between coffee and beer. You can have your Appleseed, and still get to work.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Veering dangerously close to preachiness
I was reading the latest issue of Bon Appetit yesterday. It had a feature called "Eco-Chic" which contained recipes for a multi-course dinner and suggestions for how to serve it. The focus of the piece seemed to be more on the serving dishes (bamboo plates, petrified wood platters) than any sort of eco-ness in regards to the actual food (which contained two meat courses and numerous out-of-season ingredients). Clearly, the "Chic" was the subject and "Eco" the modifier. Something about that title bothered me, and I spent the morning pondering it (as I awkwardly transplanted a clump of chives).
Things that are chic are, by their very nature, transient. Hipness, coolness, chic are intrinsically fleeting, insubstantial. Maybe jean jackets will make a comeback, but right now--ugh. Of course, evolving and revolving style has been a part of human civilization since the beginning (so you're still using stone arrowheads? How quaint), and it makes no sense to bemoan that.
That conflation, that linking of hipness to environmental awareness, that rubbed me the wrong way. Of course, it's good for people to find ways to make and sell and buy things that are less destructive to the environment. It's good to get the Braindead Media Industrial Complex involved in a positive way. I'm not about to stand in the way of every honky in a Prius who wants to serve hors d'oeuvres on a bamboo plate, but what happens when this particular trend runs its course? We have treacherously short memories in this country. What happens when our callow news cycle gobbles up the last dregs of inconvenient truthery, and we're left right where we started? What's more substantial to the human race than the planet upon which it stands? Maybe making environmentally responsible decisions shouldn't just be cool, it should just be life.
Things that are chic are, by their very nature, transient. Hipness, coolness, chic are intrinsically fleeting, insubstantial. Maybe jean jackets will make a comeback, but right now--ugh. Of course, evolving and revolving style has been a part of human civilization since the beginning (so you're still using stone arrowheads? How quaint), and it makes no sense to bemoan that.
That conflation, that linking of hipness to environmental awareness, that rubbed me the wrong way. Of course, it's good for people to find ways to make and sell and buy things that are less destructive to the environment. It's good to get the Braindead Media Industrial Complex involved in a positive way. I'm not about to stand in the way of every honky in a Prius who wants to serve hors d'oeuvres on a bamboo plate, but what happens when this particular trend runs its course? We have treacherously short memories in this country. What happens when our callow news cycle gobbles up the last dregs of inconvenient truthery, and we're left right where we started? What's more substantial to the human race than the planet upon which it stands? Maybe making environmentally responsible decisions shouldn't just be cool, it should just be life.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Chow Rhode Island, Episode 4: Doughboys
Pan-fried pizza dough topped with a heaping spoonful of sugar. Need I say more? I need? Well then:Subject: Doughboys
Aliases: Fried Dough
Major Features: Dough
Minor Features: Sugar
Not to be confused with funnel cakes, which are made by piping soft sweet dough into hot oil, doughboys are generally made with a slab of pizza dough in a (relatively) moderate amount of oil. Sugaring after is delicious and traditional.
Assessment: Crunchy on the outside, soft and chewy on the inside. The sugar clings to and soaks up the residual oil on the outside, forming a secondary crust of greasy sugary goodness.
Conclusion: These are generally enjoyed for breakfast, and therefore usually with store-bought pizza dough. Probably any dough would work, really. Just heat some oil (your choice) until smoking, stretch out a piece of dough (your choice), slap it (gently) into the oil for a few minutes per side, remove, drain, dump a pile of sugar on top, enjoy. Simple, fried, carbs-n-sugar. Best eaten prior to a day working on the farm. I'm kind of a priss about sweet breakfasts, but this was very tasty. Not something I'd eat everyday, though.
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