Nuke It

Nothing has revolutionized modern cooking the way microwaves have.

It used to be that we had to punch in the time we wanted to nuke our food: 2 (minutes) ... 2 (twenty) ... 7 (seconds). But most microwaves nowadays have an easy one-minute button; with just one press, your food instantly warms for 60 seconds. Some (like mine) even have a +30s button. And adapting to this convenience, a lot of people now just round their cook times up/down to the nearest minute and repeatedly press the button to that amount.

But what if you want to warm something for an odd or exact amount of time? Like making 3tbsp of melted butter, or softening up a flour tortilla? Only takes 10s or so. I find that I always press the +30s and figure, "I'll stop it at 0:20." and I have to keep an eye on that time while I tend to other kitchen work in the meantime. More often than not, I get carried away and end up cooking the stuff for 15s, or even completely letting the 30s lapse! And yet, I don't know why I still insist on doing it this way (besides the fact that I'm stubborn in my ways).

But this got me to thinking about how "convenient" these buttons really are. I mean, how many people have overcooked foods in the microwave (or cooked longer than they intended, even if the food didn't come out overcooked), because they opted to save on keypresses in the beginning, and didn't watch their nuclear edibles?

Hella-Smelly Yellow-Pee

Last Wednesday night, I had some people over for steaks, sided with some beautifully seared asparagus (thank you, thank you). This sprouted a conversation on the wonders of this vegetable -- after all, a scene of Austin Powers in Goldmember really spears the point. Questions begged.

Why does it make our pee smell?
Why does it make our pee so yellow?
Can this be used as some kind of territory-marking liquid around our homes, like wolves do in the wilderness?

I went to ask Greenworks to get the straight dope on this local harvest, and understand generally how stuff works with asparagus. Here's a 15-second summary.

Asparagus has six sulfur-containing compounds in it. The smell is caused by S-Methyl Thioesters, which are compounds that result from the reaction of an acid with one of those sulfur-containing alcohols. But not everyone gets it: about 40% notice the smell, and the rest don't. Why? The jury's still out. Some think the 40% have an enzyme that lets us to break down the sulfurous amino acids to produce the smellier components, while others believe those 40% have a gene that gives the ability to smell those odours. (I personally believe the former reasoning, though this should be easy to sort out by experiment: just have them smell each other's pee.)

Either way, it's a small price (for others) to pay for such a delicious vegetable (for you). And aside from the pee smell, it has very good nutritional value and taste. (I mean the asparagus, not the asparagus urine.)

Sit, Ubu, Sit. Good Dog.

What's that, Lassie? You really like dancing with Olivia Newton John? (Warning, large video file, but worth watching.) Oh, and by the way, happy Cinco de Mayo.

I Didn't Know (Flap) Jack

As I tried my hand at making some Good Eats pancakes this past weekend, I sure learned a few things. First of all, the order of mixing all the ingredients in the recipe is

[ (butter + egg yolks) + (buttermilk + egg whites) ] + [ all dry ingredients ]

- Make sure the buttermilk/whites mixture isn't too cold when you add the butter/yolk mixture, or the butter will solidify and you'll have to start over. (Uh, hypothetically speaking.)
- On my large burner, around 4.5 is the right temperature (350F) where water dances without bubbling violently.
- Your griddle must be ready before you mix the dry ingredients with the wet, because you want to make the pancakes immediately after mixing.
- When you mix in the dry with the wet, whisk and fold quickly, 10 seconds maximum (or else your pancakes will get tough and chewy instead of light and fluffy).
- Leave the lumps; they'll disappear during cooking!
- I desperately need to buy a set of mixing bowls instead of doing it in eating bowls, ghetto-style. But at least I have a whisk.
- My 4" spatula means I can flip 5" or 6" pancakes nicely, which means a 3oz ladle for batter.
- None of my ladles have labels on them, so I can't tell how much they hold. And I need to buy a bigger spatula to make bigger pancakes.
- Putting a small pat of butter on a paper towel, and using that to wipe up the pan is the perfect amount of butter.
- If you try to pour more batter on one side to make the pancake rounder, the browned side shows obvious signs of how you tried to cheat. Just leave it alone.
- In the beginning, you won't see bubbles. Wait for that 120F point, where they start releasing, and then wait for the bubbles to set.
- You have to flip swiftly and lightly.
- Frozen blueberries have too much liquid in them to make good blueberry pancakes. And there are no fresh blueberries to be found in the summertime.
- I sure make a big mess for just 6 delicious pancakes drizzled with maple syrup. (Product of Maine, USA. I'm saving my Ontario maple syrup for special occasions.)
- I could probably have folded in some finely chopped apples and cinnamon to make a few of those.
- If I ever invite friends over for a pancake breakfast, I'll need two more griddles to get enough "bandwidth".

Now that I have the "instant" pancake mix (those dry ingredients), I can make about 35 more pancakes with ease (just need butter, buttermilk, eggs) within the next 3 months. Sweet. :-) What else can I eat with / in pancakes??

1 + 1 = 2

She's in a flurry, running around the apartment, getting ready to go out with her friends. Late again, I imagine. I continue casually stirfrying some ground pork with vegetables. She approaches me hurriedly, pulling a $20 bill halfway out of her purse.

"Do you have change for a $20? Two 10's?"
"Hmmm ... let me go check."

I leave the pan on simmer, wipe my hands and get my wallet. A $10 bill, some wrinkly $1's, and a few $20 bills. I reach the end of the folded bills without finding enough to make another $10 for her.

"Nope, sorry, I just have this $10."
"Okay, never mind then."
"Well, do you just need the ten for now? You can borrow this and pay me back later. No big deal."

She pondered whether that might help her cause.

"Um, maybe. Do you have another $10?"

I look at her with the single $10 still clutched in my hand. I couldn't decide whether to just stare at her incredulously, or to laugh out loud. I chose the latter.

Twist of Fate

I woke up like I did any other Saturday morning, and hit the treadmill to the soothing sounds of FoodTV, got lazy, and cut my run about 5 minutes short. And eggs and ham for breakfast. Yeah, nothing special.

But what was unusual was the contact made to me nearer noon. Someone unexpectedly messaged me, with an unsaid purpose -- but only small talk began. I braced for the news, bunkering against the pending lightning and thunder, expecting the worst.

Strangely, no such storm came. No heavy rains to drench me to the bone, no torrents of winds to slam me against walls and rid me slowly of my will to live. Instead, pleasant news. Ironically, it was an announcement that the worst of the storms were indeed over, and that the skies would eventually clear up, allowing the sun to shine once again.

I was ecstatically relieved. And pleased. A shadow of doom had been lifted.

It was like ... when you're showering with the curtain drawn, and you hear that creak of a door opening and you see the outline of a person holding some kind of sharp object in their hand in that scary stabbing position, and suddenly in your head is that repetitive screeching violin chord that means someone in the movie is going to die. And when you thrust the shower curtain open, ready to meet thy doom, you discover it's a huge, happy, furry rabbit offering you a bag of delicious candies that you loved as a child.

It was like that.

Like when there's this Tupperware in the back corner of your fridge with old food in it, and you've known that it's been there for quite a while, but somehow never get around to cleaning it out, and it just gets older and has that menacing feeling hanging over you. When you finally have the guts to open it and throw out its contents, you're scared that what you open will bubble up at you with nasty stenches and multi-coloured furry mold, but when you finally tear the cover up, there's a perfectly medium-rare filet mignon slathered in a beautiful red wine reduction over top.

Yeah, like that. Kind of a nice way to start the weekend.

Blonde, Hot and Bothered

After some initial pondering, I've concluded that California is definitely not the best place to have a convertible, especially in the unseasonably hot weather we've been having of late (30+ degrees).

But you certainly wouldn't know it from those gorgeous, Hollywood-glorified blondes from Los Angeles. With their shiny manes and sun-golden tans, TV and movies would have you believe that they are commonly found driving around SoCal in a sporty luxury convertible on a hot summer's day! (These ladies are also typically single, carefree, and openly flirtatious with any boys along the drive. Supposedly.)

But when the mercury rises, leather seats get hot. I mean hot, like egg-frying hot. So you can imagine the impossibility of girls jumping into their cars without searing their booty roasts (lightly brushed in suntan oil). And the sun bearing down with its broiling heat makes being in direct sunlight almost unbearable -- how do you stand it, when people are continually seeking shade? The movies / shows also don't show you the next day, when they're red as lobsters, skin starting to peel off their noses and foreheads. Or even twenty years later, when you see the leathery sun-damaged skin of such ex-beauties.

But I digress. The point is, I'll bet that Vancouver and Seattle are more ideal for convertible driving than SF or LA. Yeah. That's all I have to say about that.