Yeast

These eukaryotic micro-organisms make our beer, our wine; they leaven our bread and make our pitas pocketed. Yeast, a significant member of the Fungi kingdom, has been in use for thousands of years, much of that time without our understanding of the why or the what. You let juiced grapes sit out for awhile, and ta-da! we're incredibly ebullient and talkative (or possibly asleep). Live yeast, bought in paper packets from the grocery, bubbles and foams when reinvigorated in warm water, and inflates balls of dough triplefold. Don't forget vinegar either, which itself is only possible through the tireless efforts of these singular creatures. These little unicellular beings sustain themselves on sugars, and depending on the venue (i.e. drowning in a sweet grain or grape soup or enveloped in wetted flour) defecate alcohol or carbon dioxide or both. It lives in our guts, on our skin and in the barely visible particulates of the air.

Imagine France without yeast. Or say, any other place wherein good things are had. The wines, the breads, the dipping vinegars. The flavor imparted upon baked goods is palpable, it is the identity of the thing. To take it away from that bread or roll or bun is to be left with not only an uninspired and airless slag of grain, but also one without that thick and succulent je ne sais quoi flavor. To leave it out of wine or beer is to leave them out entirely, to be left with grape juice and soda. Vinegar, pivotal in most common condiments, is the most unavoidable though, seconded only by soy sauce. Try to go to a restaurant and order around these obvious obstacles. Forget Chinese. No more casual sushi (not only the problem of soy sauce here but also the vinegared rice). You'll have difficulty eating Italian too and most salads are out of the question. You might even go home and attempt to hobble together a ketchup or mayo analogue, in hopes that you could carry it along in a to-go bottle and again enjoy slathering fries in dip. It won't be the same though. You'll notice the unfettered joy on the faces of your devil-may-care companions as they swallow down goblets of wine or pints of beer, getting it on their upper lips or spilling it down their faces, and smiling as they lick it or wipe it away and go after another handful of sweet potato fries in curry ketchup or pesto mayo. You'll know. And you'll cordone yourself off at the bakery, investigating only the scones and the cookies, the muffins and cupcakes (all the while you wanted something savory). You'll take to the internet on fruitless searches for those yeasty borderlands (does rindy cheese have yeast? which restaurants use liquid aminos?) and come out less informed, more confused and in want of all those things you can't have and all the stuff you aren't sure of. Then you'll pull the vodka from the freezer (as it is distilled and filtered) and make a drink. These are the facts and my impressions upon denying it past my lips the last weeks.

Just over a month ago, after completing three fruitless months of a gluten-free life, I got my food-panel blood test back. Yeast (brewer's and baker's) among other less dramatic items showed up as an allergy for me, which I hadn't ever considered previously. A daily fact of my life, from nutritional yeast to wine and beer to vinegars and kombucha, had to be eliminated for an indeterminate period of time. It is still indeterminate, but there has been marked improvement in the state of my digestive system, in the state of that overraw length of piping from throat to gut. And that is where I stand, or sit, or lay. I've friended distilled alcohol and lemon juice. I sigh less when my friends eat things I can't. I am attempting creativity in the kitchen in the face of this adversity, and when all is said and done, it is a hell of a lot easier than divorcing gluten. We've become great friends again. Absence makes the heart grow fond, and the stomach grow wanton.

Ways in Which One Can Make Food

As a follow-up to my previous post about the pathetic state of American eating, a state which could be helped immensely by the actuating of those common sensibilities built (though sometimes hidden deep within an overlarge shell) into each person with thoughts, I figured I would put up some recipes that represent vegetables as a main event. We are just coming into Autumn and as such many of the recipes are attuned to that season's fare. Each week, with our produce box, we get a sheet of recipes which more often than not has saliva-producing effects. The following are four such sheets.

 Each image can be clicked to enlarge and printed out. I would love it if someone made one of these recipes and commented (just below the post) with the results. Enjoy eating healthy.

Bike to Wineries, Check.

Yesterday (Saturday, the 11th), we biked to the wineries. Myself, Anne and our friend Zack. This was an event that we had been wanting to do for some time and only ended up doing as a result of our panic that Summer was in its death throes. The ride was about 18 miles there, but we got off the trail too early and added nearly five more to that. The Burke-Gilman Trail runs through Seattle, beginning at 11th street in Ballard and ending above the Northern finger of Lake Washington at Bothell. From there it is replaced by the Sammamish River Trail, which continues to the wineries accompanied by the Sammamish River, whose banks are crowded with small bungalows and scrappy boats. Both trails are rail trails, conversions of unused railroads, which make for very evenly graded paths.

It was a gorgeous day, luckily for us. The ride was relaxing and surprisingly easy. We rode into our usual winery destinations, starting at Columbia Winery. I am a member there, thanks to my mother, and enjoy two free tastings for four people each time I go. We were joined, via her car, by Zack's girlfriend, Jamie.

We brought various farmer's market fare to eat. A baguette filled with olive oil, basil and garlic. A creamy spreadable fromage with truffle salt in it. Some fontina cheese. Plums, various berries, heirloom tomatoes and lentil sprouts. It was decadent and delicious. We got our tastings at Columbia, our heads humming with wine, then we headed across the street to Chateau Ste. Michelle.

Anne walks with determination near the plants of her Spanish ancestry. Here, at Ste. Michelle, the grounds are much more exciting and decorative. They even have a stage for the big name bands of yesteryear to play such as Crowded House; Steely Dan; Earth, Wind and Fire and Chris Isaak to name a few. And they have fowl. Ducks, geese and peacocks. The vines on the property are decorative only, as the real grapes are grown in more sandy, loamy soil on the other side of the Cascade Mountains. As such, these grapes are a little sour...

... as can be seen in the above picture, in Jamie's face.

There are the ducks, which seem to piss Zack off, or at least make him uber-serious. This is our second eating session, because drinking wine is a task that famishes.

And the following are some of the fowl we encountered.

The ride back was less invigorating than the ride there. We were beat. And there was a football game at UW's stadium so the trail became inundated with drunk, inconsiderate sports fans. We walked our bikes the last mile for this reason. Our final mileage was sitting at about 41 miles. We swelled with pride before succumbing to exhaustion and finding bed.

Cheese, Words and Spring

OK, I have neglected this blog recently. Busy. You know. But, I have had things to say, just not the time to say them in an HTML format. I write this now remotely. Across the street to be precise. The computer can still pick up our wireless signal. So, not too remote.

Firstly, cheese. Everyone should make some farmer's cheese, as it is extremely easy. The idea of making cheese, I will say, is a big and scary one. The good news is that the actual execution of cheese-making, at least this type, is not big and scary. What it takes:

- One Gallon Whole Milk
- One Half Cup of Vinegar (cheap distilled vinegar is great)
- One Tablespoon Salt
- Cheesecloth
- Strainer

Now, bring milk to a slow boil (or, as I have found, a frothing you can barely control), stirring frequently to avoid burning, and remove from heat. Then, slowly add vinegar whilst stirring until curds develop. Congratulations, for this has been the hardest part. Pour this mixture through a cheesecloth within a strainer inside of a sink. What will collect are the curds. What won't is the whey. Goodbye whey! Anywhey, what you now have without the addition of salt is essentially ricotta cheese. If that is your stop, then go ahead to the next enlarged first letter. The rest of you will add the salt and mix it through. This works to further void the curds of liquid resulting in a more solid product. You can also add herbs, spices or even colorful flowers at this point which will all inform your cheese. I haven't yet elaborated on the plain cheese. Gather up the corners of your cheesecloth and tie them together, opposite to opposite, tightly. At this point, one can either hang this ball from a hook elevated over a bowl for the drippings, or one can put it on an angled cutting board (a lego or wine opener under one end) with another cutting board or pan or whatever on top, weighed down with any heavy thing you can find (I put my cast iron pan and a pumpkin on there). Wait two hours or more. Free it from its cheesecloth cage. You have made cheese! This cheese is often called paneer, used frequently in Indian cuisine. It can be cubed and toasted in a frypan, which really brings out its flavor. It doesn't melt and acts much like tofu. It is wonderful. The picture above is not of my own, though I do have pictures. They are not available to me at this remote location. Here is some paneer in action:

This, as well, is not mine. But it will suffice. Comment on this post if you make this cheese.

Secondly, words. I have recently, via the blog of Seattle' The Stranger, found a website called 750words.com. It works like this: you identify yourself by signing in through either Facebook, Google or Yahoo; you write 750 words or more a day and in doing so gain points that multiply in the way of bowling; when finished you get to view your stats for that day; etc. The statistics are your words-per-minute, amount of time taken, amount of words, number of distractions (three-minutes of idleness), weather while writing, rating (i.e. PG, PG-13, R, etc.), and more intensive analyzations like emotion of the piece, tense used, mindset, primary sense, frequently used words, etc. There is much going on here and it is very rewarding in some way to see how your writing is interpreted. These statistics are consolidated into all-time statistics also. 

My all-time mindset is Extrovert, Positive, Certain, Feeling whereas the World's mindset is Introvert, Positive, Uncertain, Feeling. I have a PG-13 rating. I have written 27,376 words, which will increase fairly soon by about 750 words or more. I have taken the April challenge, meaning that I will not miss one day of April's writing. I will buy myself an Indian feast if I am successful. If not, I will buy Lucas Cain a beer, maybe more. Lucas has also taken this challenge, but alas, he has failed. He now must buy me the liquor of my choice. I still have to figure out what that choice might be. 

All in all, I feel that this site has helped me immensely in my writing. Unlike a document file, I don't feel like what I write has to be anything absolute and final. It really helps stream of consciousness thrive. It is sort of a jump-start for writing. Ideas come out more easily. It can also help in a confessional sort of way, getting things off your chest and forming them into sentences and paragraphs and ideas. If anyone starts doing this, please leave a comment on this post with what you think. 

Thirdly, Spring! The blooms are weighing the trees branches down, the sun is high in the great blue sky, people are out with their babies and their dogs and occasionally their rats and joy is finally coming out of dormancy. Tulips and Rhododendrons and Japanese Magnolias. The air smells amazing. There is also these tiny little flowers that look like many white bells and they smell of honey, right next to my living room window. I need soon to visit the wineries and revel in this gorgeous weather. There is no point to this third section. I am drinking green tea in a cafe and my day off just so happens to be a day of clouds and looming sprinkles. Not like cupcake sprinkles either. Drizzle. 

I hope this was all appropriately informative/entertaining. If it wasn't, comment and say as much. Tell me how much you love Spring. Tell me that I have taken up a great deal of your time with my rambling. Whatever you want. Have a good day. Enjoy this poem that I am throwing in just because.

Country Fair

by Charles Simic

If you didn't see the six-legged dog,
It doesn't matter.
We did, and he mostly lay in the corner.
As for the extra legs,

One got used to them quickly
And thought of other things.
Like, what a cold, dark night
To be out at the fair.

Then the keeper threw a stick
And the dog went after it
On four legs, the other two flapping behind,
Which made one girl shriek with laughter.

She was drunk and so was the man
Who kept kissing her neck.
The dog got the stick and looked back at us.
And that was the whole show.