If you find yourself at this address for my website, you will still find my current posts, yet I have given my energies to another service which I find more attractive. I hope you do as well.
satisfying hunger and other related pursuits
See you on the other side.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Cycled and Pickled
The bike is still in process, as you may or may not be able to tell, but it now is rideable. I still need to rig up the front derailleur to the STI shifter, as well as mess around with how the rear derailleur is cabled to the shifter. It is a Frankenstein sort of ordeal, but I've thus far learned a lot about how to build a bike. At this point, I've replaced a bottom bracket and crankset, quill stem adapter and handlebar, cassette, derailleurs and chain. On top of that, I went through the barbaric motions of coldsetting the rear of the frame, in order that my wheel would actually slide in without undue force. It worked. I am now riding it and have forged through the first downpour of the long season to come. Speaking of, I just ordered my rain gear. A cycling jacket, helmet cover, and rain pants - all breathable and waterproof.
As far as pickling is concerned, I have been equally busy. There are, as I speak, jars and buckets bubbling away with special bacterial activity. Following the tongue-tingling excitement of my first peppery relish, I decided to go hotter, make it into some sort of mind-bending hot sauce with the added benefit of probiotics. It worked, to a point. It was delicious and hot, but the bend it inflicted on the mind was mild comparable to a true hot sauce. All the same it worked deliciously as a sort of face-reddening chip dip. I started pickles, and finished them. They have been steadily escaping the jar since arriving in the fridge, mostly due to my own insatiable urges. I am fermenting another bucket right now. It sits atop the fridge, silently vibrating. Also going right now is something new. A local seller of fermented things made something that intrigued me. Salsa, without the tomato, fermented. I used the hot peppers, cabbage, beet, carrot, onion, garlic and lemon zest. I have yet to truly try it, but I am hopeful. It looks gorgeous. This last Saturday, at the farmer's market less than a black away, I crept up to the stand where they sell peppers. When I say they sell peppers, I mean it. Something like twenty feet of doubled up boxes of peppers, arrayed in order from sweet to mild to hot to uber-hot. I hit the latter of these, and was greeted by the beautiful bulbous bodies of the different habenero varieties. I touched them longingly, knowing what lay within, the amount of pain and pleasure it was able to inflict. My seratonin levels surged a bit just to feel. These still sit on my counter, ready to be used, to be bathed in brine and given to the spirit of the ferment. This will happen. Soon.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Briefly Living in the Forest
We camped amongst massive Douglas Firs and a veritable carpet of mossy growth. Also, we watched whales. We went whale watching and camped amongst big trees and moss. We didn't know it then (and I hope I am totally wrong in this) but we found ourselves camping on the best weekend of the "Summer" and seemingly the last. The first night we arrived at the campground just after the sun had fallen over the horizon. Expertly we assembled our tent and set a fire to blaze and glow on our city-ripe faces. We fed ourselves on previously concocted tuna salad and cracked open hoppy beers which hissed slight cold mists as we did so. The cold light of the LED lantern blanketed the rough wood of the picnic table pocked with the darkened writhing spots of bug shadow. This was the woods, where perfume wouldn't penetrate and phones could barely dial out. This was a separation (albeit an extremely temporary one). We sat and drank and thought and were quiet. There wasn't pressing media to attend to. Except the fire, the silence, the breath, one after another. Then we played shadow games in the tent and found sleep.
Fast forward past the morning stuff (camp stove boiling water for the french press, masterful breaking down of tent, simplistic food-making procedures, repack car and head North) to arrive at the boat times. We acclimated ourselves to the place, pushing slowly along with the bulbous tourism of the thing to find a table of our own in the lower cabin, insulated from the cool ocean air. The heavy-set and red-faced were all about, families of them, settling down to watch other large mammals from the comfort of this boat. I learned stuff. An Orca, the so-called "Killer Whale", was not in fact a whale at all, but a whale killer, a type of giant dolphin with scary big teeth. Screw up Whale Killer just a little and you're left with a great deal of misinformed people. As if it really mattered to the dolphin what the human thought. But, that is that. We saw these massive dolphins, finally, after a few hours of leisurely drifting through the waters, passing along the gorgeous landscape of tree-heavy islands and vanishing-point expanse of amazingly still water. With my humble camera I was able to catch of few of these animals, slick bodies peeking out of the water two hundred feet away from us. There was a mother and her kid that would bob out of the water, one after the other. We kept up with them for awhile and at one point they were literally feet from our boat. I didn't get a picture of it, of course. My pictures don't do much justice to the experience (those above). Anne's camera caught things mine couldn't (below). To really appreciate it though, you'd have to have been there. And you weren't.
We made some friends too. Dan and Maria from Vancouver, B.C. He was originally from Serbia, her Mexico. They randomly came to sit at our table with us and soon we were talking. They make kefir, which I've mentioned and linked to previously, and drink something like four liters of it a week. He said that it contains something like 30 different strains of probiotic bacteria. I now want to make kefir. Dan told us stories of death defiance against all odds while at sea as an engineer on a sailboat out of Serbia. I couldn't tell them if I tried, which I won't, but trust me, they were wholly entertaining. We drank half liter cans of Stella Artois and became better acquainted with our new friends, all the while scanning the horizon for whales or sea lions (which we also saw, the Stellar Sea Lion, splayed out on some nano island, half-heartedly butting heads with each other). As we were leaving, slightly buzzed and exhausted from staring out into the nothingness of water, our new friends told us that they believed we stumbled into each other for a reason. Out of all the people on this boat, they said (and we looked around at the over-made-up and the under-walked, the oddities of a day-long boat tour), we happened to sit by you. He believed in energy. I liked that. I liked them. He gave us his number and told us to call if we were in Vancouver. They would show us a good time. We parted ways and were a little sad/disappointed that we didn't also give over one of our numbers. Social interactions are rarely perfect.
It took some time to get to our next campground. We hit the ferry in Anacortes at about 6:00pm and the ferry didn't leave until 7:20pm. So we sat around in the car. I read the New Yorker article on Scientology called The Apostate, which I highly suggest you read. Finally we got our ferry to Orcas Island, which took another hour. We got to our campground at Moran State Park after sunset, at nearly 9pm, with just about zero help from any of the barely visible street signs. But we made it. Again we set up our tent and started a fire. I got out the cast iron pan and prepped some cheese and veggies for an absolutely wonderful rendition of quesadillas, which were accompanied with my recently fermented carrots and jalapenos, plus some vodka drinks with freshly muddled ginger and squeezed lime. It was one of the most enjoyable meals I have had in a while, out amongst the little bugs and the overwhelming scent of pine and smoke. We got a little drunk and took many pictures. A doe and her baby walked right up to our campground, wondering on us as we were wondering on them. The mother apprached cautiously but rather fearlessly. Anne beckoned to her with that voice you use with babies or dogs. It actually walked closer. Anne got some pictures with the fancy new camera I got her, but mine was much too overwhlemed by the dark. Eventually the deer grew bored of us and took their leave. Eventually we had had enough vodka, so we cleaned up and went to tent. The next day, we woke up and had field roast dogs and it was delicious. I had some more coffee. Woke up and cleaned our temporary home. As we cleaned our dishes another doe sauntered by us, vaguely interested. We left with enough time to go on a hike and catch the 2:20pm ferry. We decided to go on a quick one mile hike to a waterfall. The forest was so alive, covered in moss and fungus and humming with all sorts of animalia. Along the way we saw another doe with her kid. The images give an idea of the hike. We saw the falls and momentarily contemplated them. We had to get back so that we could catch the ferry, so that we could get home, so that we could unload and wash ourselves and get ready for another week. Pulling up to the line, an older man with a white beard informed us that the 2:20 ferry had filled up an hour before, at noon. We would have to take the next one. At 5:35pm. It was a beautiful day though and what better place to be stranded. There was a cafe in an old hotel, where we sat and played Trivial Pursuit (circa like 1975). They had coffee and fish and chips and beers. The sun was out and there were bunnies frolicking in the yard. It was a great time. We got home late and slept hard.
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