It’s all about home grown

Recently I’ve been giving my little garden some much needed attention, digging up the weeds, making room for a small veg patch and sowing lots of seeds. Thanks to the mix of sunshine and rain that we’ve had lately my flower beds are slowly coming to life.

I’ve become obsessed with making structures out of canes, my sweet peas should enjoy climbing them though.

There are some pretty blooms too…..

No culinary garden is complete without some herbs…….

My cucumbers sit on the windowsill, they can join the rest when they ‘re big enough.

I can’t wait to plan some tasty meals for my veggies, I’ll keep you posted.

Why Misheard Lyrics are Good for You

Misheard lyrics are high on my awesome-o-meter. This is especially true when other people mishear lyrics, and I catch them doing it. But it is equally awesome when I finally realize the real words to a song. You mean, it’s not Stairway to Kevin’s? Why didn’t someone tell me that earlier? That makes so much more sense now.

Tramps like us, baby we were born to run

I also love the humanity of misheard lyrics. We’ve all had the words wrong to a song before. Even those of us that memorized the lyrics from the album jacket of every new record we bought from Tower Records. One song always slips through, taunting us with a jumbled verse that we usually mumble along with while driving in the car. Then someone hears you and opens their eyes wide in astonishment. “Did you just say, ‘Let’s pee in the corner, let’s pee in the spotlight’?”
That’s when you laugh nervously. “No.” Then after a moment you shrug and ask, “what the hell are the real words anyways?”
I have a new iPhone 4S, and Siri and I are getting acquainted. I’m learning to ask her for what I want, which isn’t easy for me, even when I’m talking to a phone-bot. Caught in traffic on 405 the other day, I thought I’d give Siri something to do. She seems to like little tasks. So I asked her, “Why am I stuck in traffic?”
She thought I said, “Why am I stuck entropic?” To which she answered, “This is about you not me.” Which is probably true, and when you think about it a pretty existential question to be asking while stuck in traffic. Siri probably thinks I’m really smart. Maybe a little too smart.
But it got me thinking about misheard lyrics for some reason, because let’s face it. I’d rather consider “kissing this guy” than my own state of entropy. Of course, “‘Scuse me while I kiss this guy”, is one of the better and most often quoted misheard lyric around. Here are a few others:

• “Catch that bus baby, we were born to run”
• “Wrapped up like a douche, another rinny ninny night”
• “People are strange, women are stranger”
• “See that girl, watch her scream, kicking the dancing queen”
• “There’s a bathroom on the right”
• “You might as well face it, you’re a dickhead in love”
• “If you change your mind Jackie Chan, I’m the first in line Jackie Chan”
• “West Virginia, mount your mama”

It’s not just me is it? I’m not the only one that belts out misheard lyrics with great aplomb am I? My grandmother used to say that if you don’t know the answer to a question just make something up and “say it with much aplomb.” I totally live by this advice. I’m always offering up random bits of information that may or may not be correct, such as how to clean a chandelier with a q-tip and Witch Hazel or why that joint pain means you need to get more sun or how the phases of the moon are all backwards. Don’t bother looking these things up. Just trust me on this one.
Extra points for anyone who knows the real words to these songs or has more awesome misheard lyrics to share. And Siri? I’ve been thinking about my state of entropy, especially my lack of creativity lately and have decided that what I really need is a good personal assistant. But that’s more about you than me, now isn’t it.

Hoptellectual: A Personal Journey From Ketchup to Catsup

I loathe ketchup. Everything about it. It taints the presentation of a good meal, bathing it in B-level horror blood. It overwhelms natural flavors. It disrupts the cook’s intent for your food, and even stands in nicely as a back-handed compliment. It beckons to the laziness in all of us, much in the same way that Sriracha does.* My respect for a person inversely correlates quite well with how much ketchup they use on anything, even eggs and potatoes. I loathe ketchup and everything it stands for.
This is not a perfunctory thing, I’ve been wrestling with it for quite some time. As a kitchen/food amateur, it started as a mild annoyance, but spread like the mold in my compost bin. Originally, my disgust for ketchup was tied to my geography. In Chicago, you do not put ketchup on a hot dog. You just don’t do it and you don’t ask questions. It’s this cultural thing, very exclusive and Chicago. It confuses a lot of people and others find it apocryphal, but it’s such a Chicago thing. My nine-year old cousin who only eats chicken fingers won’t touch ketchup, and I assume it’s more cultural than anything (you can never be 100 percent confident when surveying someone under the age of thirteen).

Why anyone would put ketchup on this, I do not know.

When I started cooking in college, ketchup and sriracha saved many meals. I lived in a cramped house with a cramped kitchen and an extremely inefficient electric stove. I tried to cook, but I never got anything right. My sauces remained stratified and meat overcooked for fear of undercooking, normal mistakes for someone with no kitchen experience and an overprotective mother to make and label as “dinner.” But like most things, I better with practice. With the help of an incredibly fantastic roommate/chef, I learned a ton about how certain foods were supposed to taste.** I learned that good food was easy to make, you just needed to think about it and use all of your fresh ingredients. Trust your hands, instincts, and most importantly, trust the food. Ketchup only subverts this trust.
A lot of this points back towards America’s culinary history, a story that my mom often relates to my own childhood and discovery of food.*** Ketchup became a part of the American dining experience, to the point of oversaturation. Big brands produced metric tonnes of the stuff and drowned out competition, pairing it with other American favorites. The trend served to homogenize the dining experience, leaving us to rely on ketchup and other mechanized products like spam and Lawry’s seasoning salt rather than the natural flavors.**** When I was a kid, I couldn’t get enough of that stuff. Frozen food and Sweet Baby Ray’s contributed roughly 30% of my total nutrient load. I craved this American experience, heavy on sugars and salt, masking the originality of what’s underneath.
Now that I don’t live in the same city as my parents, I feel sad because I could have been eating my mom’s food the whole time. American dining has followed a similar trend, emphasizing regions and cultures over blanket statements. Similarly, much of my cooking now embraces the lessons I’ve learned from my mother and grandmother, informed primarily by my heritage. My stance on ketchup mirrors my stance on culture: we cannot and should not move away from it. It’s the stuff of memories, and for the most part, it’s all we have.
This post was inspired by Steve Albini’s totally awesome food blog. I hope to be a professional jerk like him someday.
*=I love Sriracha, but it makes me a much worse cook overall. My roommate pointed this out to me over dinner, and now I’m extremely paranoid about my own cooking abilities.
**=My mother and my grandmother are the two most amazing cooks I know, and this is in no way an indictment of any culinary missteps (they don’t make them). It just took me a long time to start thinking about food the way that they did. Nowadays, I consult them on pretty much everything I cook.
***=Unfortunately for everybody, the Smithsonian’s America Eats exhibit has closed, including the replica of Julia Child’s kitchen. I don’t have sources for this paragraph, but trust me, the information was in this exhibit.
****=I have read that this American diet lead to a country-wide distaste for bold beers, giving rise to the cheaper, more malevalent macrobrew culture that we know today.
Hate footnotes as much as we hate ketchup? Follow us on Facebook, Twitter or send an email to mwbeercollective@gmail.com for content with more brevity.

Foraging in France

Last month, my wife and I had the good fortune to find ourselves meandering down the emerald coastline of Brittany. While navigating the Crozon peninsula’s historic abbeys, abandoned fishing villages and emerald cliff tops, we found ourselves digging in the exposed sea bed for some of our very favorite things in the world to eat: shellfish. Among the targets of the nautical scavenger hunt were oysters, mussels, razor clams and winkles. Our host Joel, was kind enough to show us the ways of the salt shaker and shovel when it comes to digging clams and navigating the craggy sea floor. We ended the afternoon with a collection of tasty morsels in our basket, which our host would later cook for us at our traveller’s cottage – known in this area as a gité. We settled in with a bottle of home made fermented apple cidré (bearing no resemblance to the sweeter American variety – Woodchuck et al) and enjoyed the bounty of our hunt. For a day spent in borrowed wellies while digging in the seaweed and sand – it doesn’t get much better than this.

25 Best Rappers 25 & Under by Complex Magazine

by FreshTrain on June 16, 2012

Complex Magazine posted their list of 25 Best Rappers 25 And Under a few days ago, and since you could easily visit their website for the complete list, I have decided to share with you my top 5 picks. Enjoy!

5. The 16 year-old rookie Chief Keef, best known for his track “I Don’t Like,” which features Kanye West and G.O.O.D. Music, is sitting in my number 5 spot.

4. The 24 year-old rapper Kendrick Lamar is taking the rap game head on with his tight flows and “on-point lyricism.” We’ll only be hearing more about him by the day as Lamar is currently working on his major label debut, Good Kid in a Mad City.

3. Meek Mill recently dropped Dreamchasers 2, which currently holds the spot as one of the hardest mixtapes of the year thus far. There is no doubt that the 25 year-old Philadelphia native is one the most highly-anticipated rappers in the game right now.

2. I’m sure it’s no surprise that the 23 year-old Detroit native Big Sean, signed to G.O.O.D Music/Def Jam, made the cut. This young man’s talent, confidence and swagger has him strapped to the rap game. I look forward to seeing what else he’s got once G.O.O.D. Music’s project Cruel Summer drops.

1. 25 year-old Brooklyn native, Theophilus London, has an undeniable talent and versatility when it comes to making music. He releases the unexpected and keeps the game fresh with tracks like “Humdrum Town” and “Big Spender (Feat. A$AP Rocky).”

The Uncivilizedness of 15 Items or Less

I am here today to campaign for the abolition of the 15 Items or Less lane at the grocery store. It is my contention that with the introduction of the Self-Serve lane, now a fixture in most grocery stores, the necessity of the 15 items or less lane has become extraneous. But more than that, the 15 items or less lane is a breeding ground for uncivilizedness. And I will not stand for uncivilizedness. Even if it’s a word I made up.
It’s common knowledge that the 15 items lane serves as a convenience for those of us who have popped in for a few quick items. Rather than wait behind someone with an overflowing cart containing two weeks sustenance, the grocery gods, whoever the are, have deemed 15 as the magic number to appropriate one’s use of this lane.
So while at the grocery store yesterday, I found myself with 9 items and ready to check out. I joined one other person waiting in the 15 items lane. A lady with two items got in line behind me and just as I was considering letting her go ahead of me (even though I only had 7 items more than she) (I am saintly like that, what can I say) a lady with one item got in line behind her. So I kept my place in line and began to load the items from my cart onto the conveyor belt.
To the casual observer it may have seemed as though I had more than 15 items because there were a few larger things in my cart like a big bag of charcoal, a case of soda etc. But if one were so concerned by the number of items I was purchasing they would merely need to count them.
Too difficult this task proved to be for the two ladies behind me, as I heard one say to the other loud enough for me to catch it, “Isn’t this the 15 items lane?”
“I know, right,” said the other rolling her eyes.
I can not explain to you how much I detest passive aggressiveness. If you have a problem, just tell me. Or count my items and realize you’re in the wrong and apologize to me for being snide.
I was angry. I hate being made to feel wrong when I am clearly and so obviously not wrong. But rather than perpetuate the rudeness by commenting back to her, I took the high road. And had a 5 minute long conversation with the cashier while she huffed and puffed and festered in her uncivilizedness. Ha!

Thus Raked Zarathustra

Cheese: Amateur Photography

— June 18, 2012

30

As a child I was fascinated by photography. I liked to think I was on a mission to capture the perfect photo. I would buy myself a cheap disposable camera from the supermarket (these were the days before digital cameras), spend a week or so taking the best photos in the entire world (in my humble 9 year old opinion), have them processed then rip them out of the envelope with glee — only to discover with great disappointed that I had taken most photos seconds too late. This became a particular talent of mine, that and blurred photos that looked like they had been taken inside a womb.

Talent of choice: taking bad photos

In my late teens, I worked for a photo processing company. I had given up my interest in photography by then, but found working there heartening as I soon discovered that I wasn’t the only one who had a knack for directing the camera at the sun and taking pointless photos of  glare because I thought they looked ‘artistic’.
It’s only recently that I’ve started taking photos again with any enthusiasm, thanks largely to a decent camera phone. I’m not formally trained nor do I take photos professionally, but I think some of these shots have turned out well, so I share them with you now:
Food

Oh glorious food.

Black forest cup cakes

Kitty cats

Beatrice and Harriet, unsure about their sitters

Harriet

Beatrice (I love her little paw pads)

Landscape

Sky opening up on the way to Castlemaine

Flagstaff Gardens

Path to Flagstaff Gardens

Castlemaine Botanical Gardens, Christmas Day

Powerlines

Lake Mountain

Train approaching

And garden

Tomato seedling

sunflower

Wacky word origins

Where words end up if they become all-stars: the dictionary. Image courtesy of jdurham, Morguefile.

I’ve got to hand it to English — it’s a democratic language. It uses words from all over the world and from different eras. It grows constantly, because new words are added all the time.
The origin of some words is pretty obvious. Judo, karate, kimono and tsunami come from Japan, while Germany gave us noodle, nix, snorkel and spiel. France offered us ballet, garage, liberty, pleasure and marriage. From the Caribbean, we’ve taken hurricane, barbecue, canoe, hammock and mosquito. (I’m not a big fan of mosquitoes — can we give those back?)
I always think it’s interesting to know the origins of words and commonly used phrases. Ever heard of the word defenestration? This word is guaranteed to stump almost everyone since it’s so obscure, and it’s hilarious to hear people try to guess the meaning of it. It comes from the Latin prefix de- (down) and the word fenestra (window). Give up? It’s the act of tossing somebody or something out of a window. Ouch.
I also like the phrase “hands down” (as in “He was the clear winner, hands down”), which comes from British horse racing. When a jockey had the lead in a race and there was no chance whatsoever of anybody catching up with him, the jockey would let go of the reins. Then, he’d put his hands down, allowing the horse to continue galloping across the finish line.
And yet more words have been added in recent years. You “unfriend” somebody on Facebook, or admit that you’re a “Gleek” (a fan of the TV show “Glee” + “geek”). And let’s not forget “staycation” (popular until the U.S. economy recovers), “dramedy” and “romaction,” which I’ve seen mentioned in news articles and entertainment reviews.
I can’t wait to see where English goes in the future. One thing’s for sure: It’s going to be entertaining.

Teluk Intan

4am stories, Teluk Intan, Perak, Malaysia.

” Teluk Intan（安順）is a town located in the state of Perak in Malaysia. It is the largest town in Hilir Perak district and third largest town in the state of Perak with an estimated population of around 120,000, about half of Hilir Perak district’s total population (232,900). Teluk Intan is the district capital of Hilir Perak district. – Wikipedia. For more information about Teluk Intan, please visit : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teluk_Intan “
That is the general information about it, let’s get back to my title, 4 AM. How many of you have ever think what is happening in your town at 4 AM in the morning? Which i believe most of us will be sleeping soundly, except those football fans who are still awake for the Euro 2012.
Being here for 25 years, i have never thought of what is going on out there at this time? Like my sister suggested me to go at 6 am, which she thinks most of them will be awake at that time, but i do not want to miss out anything, so i stick to my old plan. And so, i woke up at 3.30am and get myself prepared to check this out.

I went to a few places in the town where my ‘tour guide’, my mum suggested me. Surprisingly, I met a lot of them, we talked and we shared our stories, looking at my RAW data, it was 4.10 am.



I walked along to the Teluk Intan wet market at 4.45am. This is the only light that could be seen from far. I was told by her that they started to work almost an hour before i reached.

What’s happening in this photo? The men were arguing right at the back, and the lady just carried on getting her job done.

The son was packing ; the dad supervising ; the grand was instructing.

I met him as a total stranger, but we had a conversation like an old friend.

I left the wet market at 6.30 am and got back to the main street. I took this photo at my last stop, Keng Heng Kopitiam, one of the most historical around here.

3 hours project, I spent one and a half hour talking, an hour exploring, and only half an hour shooting. This is my first photography project and I seriously gain more than I expected. To be mention, all the photos were taken with permission.

Pistachio & rosewater meringues

Okay so I’ve done some research and some highly covert experiments and have found an Ottolenghi recipe which delivers the goods. As suspected, my newly acquired electric beater makes life infinitely easier. It’s essential for this recipe because you whisk the egg mix until it is very thick. So thick in fact that aforementioned beater got pushed to the brink of explosion (use a freestanding electric mixer, if you have one). Ten minutes on high speed in an increasingly-quick-sand-like substance and the motor was giving off unpleasant plastic smells. Still…it got there! No harm done…and 12 beautiful pistachio-dusted meringues to show for its efforts.
INGREDIENTS
300g caster sugar
150g free-range egg whites
1 tsp rosewater
30g pistachio nuts
METHOD
Preheat oven to 200°C. Line an oven tray with baking paper and spread the sugar evenly over. Place tray in oven for around 8 minutes or until sugar is hot…you’ll see the edges of the sugar begin to liquify.
While the sugar is in the oven, place the egg whites in a large mixing bowl. When the sugar is almost ready, begin whisking on high speed until the whites just begin to froth up…around a minute.
Remove sugar from oven and make a tube out of the baking paper by holding the two long sides together. Carefully and slowly pour the sugar into the whisking whites. Add the rosewater once all the sugar has been incorporated and continue whisking on high speed for about 10 minutes. The mixture will become very thick, hold its shape, and turn bewitchingly silky and glossy.
Turn oven down to 110°C and line two trays with baking paper. Use two spoons to shape the meringues – one to scoop the mixture from the bowl, the other to push it off onto the tray. You can make these as large or as small as you like. I think a generously heaped tablespoon is about right…but each to their own…just make sure you space them well apart on the tray as they will nearly double in size.
Sprinkle meringues generously with the chopped pistachios, place in the preheated oven and leave to bake for about 2 hours. Gentle prodding will tell you they are ready…they should be firm on the outside whilst still a little soft in the centre.
Remove from oven and leave to cool. Meringues keep well for a quite a few days in an airtight container.
NOTE
1. The finer chopped the pistachios the better…you want a dusting effect, with a few slightly chunky bits for texture. 2. Rotate and swap each tray half way through baking time to ensure even cooking. 3. Rosewater can be substituted for 1 tsp orange blossom water or ½ tsp vanilla extract.