What's that? You think I should make yoghurt, kefir and ricotta with this? Or even drink it straight up so I can taste that pure, creamy sweetness that just doesn't exist in store-boughten milk?? You must be crazy.
Fortunately, so am I.
XD
-Nelly
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
MAXIMUM WIN
What's that? You think I should make yoghurt, kefir and ricotta with this? Or even drink it straight up so I can taste that pure, creamy sweetness that just doesn't exist in store-boughten milk?? You must be crazy.
Fortunately, so am I.
XD
-Nelly
Monday, March 12, 2012
...is this right?
So that bag of Palahniuk-esque fat scraps I brought home the other day? No longer scraps. But I'm a little unsure of the outcome.
This is pure rendered beef fat (well, as pure as I could get it; note the floaters collected at the bottom despite the straining). It's still translucent here, but that's only because it's still melted. The reason for my uncertainty? It's...yellow. More than that, it's a medium-deep golden that, if this were chicken fat, I'd be very happy with. But ALL of the sources I saw said that tallow should be pure white. And it is most definitely not that.
Could be my method of extraction. I cut it into small dice-sized chunks, thought about freezing and then putting through the food processor as Mark says to do, then left it in the freezer too long and decided to just throw it in the crockpot with some boiling water and see what happened. It seemed to be taking a really long time, so I wanted to find a way to further break up the pieces so that they'd melt faster. So...I fished out all the chunks and hit them with the stick blender. It was pretty gross. It looked like oatmeal but I knew it wasn't. Thank me for sparing your eyes of that sight.
It could also be the fat I used. There was definitely some good "Bible fat" in my batch (that's the stuff that's hard, like cold butter, and easily flakes into bits that look kind of like pages), but there was also a good amount (probably a larger one) of this floppy, squidgy stuff, like really fatty chicken skin. It was all gleaned from brisket that the Kitchen Queen at my workplace was working on, so it was just whatever I could get from that.
Anyone made tallow before? Anyone read about making tallow before? Anyone still here after the talk of ground-up fatmeal?
...eww...
-Nelly
EDIT: Apparently the color difference is (at least partly) because the cow was grassfed. W00t!
Could be my method of extraction. I cut it into small dice-sized chunks, thought about freezing and then putting through the food processor as Mark says to do, then left it in the freezer too long and decided to just throw it in the crockpot with some boiling water and see what happened. It seemed to be taking a really long time, so I wanted to find a way to further break up the pieces so that they'd melt faster. So...I fished out all the chunks and hit them with the stick blender. It was pretty gross. It looked like oatmeal but I knew it wasn't. Thank me for sparing your eyes of that sight.
It could also be the fat I used. There was definitely some good "Bible fat" in my batch (that's the stuff that's hard, like cold butter, and easily flakes into bits that look kind of like pages), but there was also a good amount (probably a larger one) of this floppy, squidgy stuff, like really fatty chicken skin. It was all gleaned from brisket that the Kitchen Queen at my workplace was working on, so it was just whatever I could get from that.
Anyone made tallow before? Anyone read about making tallow before? Anyone still here after the talk of ground-up fatmeal?
...eww...
-Nelly
EDIT: Apparently the color difference is (at least partly) because the cow was grassfed. W00t!
Saturday, March 10, 2012
What I'm doing right now
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Then and now
So today I spent an absolutely insane amount of time working on physics problems with my lab partner, John. John's a cool dude with a lot to say, so we get along pretty well despite the fact that he's a Republican (but a very good-natured one, if you can imagine such a thing!). Amidst all the discussion on Kirchhoff's rules for circuits, the conversation drifted a bit, mostly so we wouldn't go insane. One of the impetuses (not impeti, I looked it up) for a conversational tangent happened to be a girl with a shaved head who had just walked out of the room. I told him "you know, my hair used to be nearly that short!" and he was all "um what, nuh-uh it wasn't!" So of course I had to provide photographic evidence. This was taken way back, about a year ago.
He saw this picture and did a double-take. "Wow! You weren't kidding, that's crazy short!"
"Yeah, the sides were buzzed but the top was long enough to spike up. Man, I loved that cut..."
"You look like kind of a badass there!"
Fellas, take note. If you know a lady who does lifting, parkour, rugby, martial arts or some other hobby or lifestyle that you find impressively hardcore, or if she just looks like a badass, tell her so! It will win her heart, guaranteed. Of course, the lion's share of my heart still belongs to The Man, but there's always room for people who think I'm a badass :)
Of course that made me perk right up. I got to talk a little about my glory days last summer, lifting and hiking and swimming in the Eno and running barefoot and the not-then-totally-ridiculous idea of training to be a traceuse. And then it was back to the Loop Rule and the Junction Rule and C=Q/V and all the various equations used to find power. And TWO MORE HOURS ON A SINGLE PROBLEM. Gah.
When I got back to the house, on a whim, I decided to take another picture in the same location and approximately the same pose, just for comparison's sake. Here it is:
Here are the things I noticed, in order of the noticing:
1. My face and neck look thinner.
2. My hair is longer.
3. I'm paler.
4. I'm not smiling.
5. The striped shirt lends a bit of a French air, but it's distinctly not the wicked cool nouveau homme des cavernes look.
6. I am no longer a badass.
I just spent a long few minutes tugging on my hair and pondering all of this - the reasons why my badassery went out the window, the steps I can take to get it back, all the shit I still have to do that drains my time and my strength and my mental capacities. The fact that my first thought was "Now I'm skinnier and therefore prettier!" despite the fact that my physical state is way, way below what it was and should be, regardless of what my neck looks like. Other photos (not to be shared) reveal the fact that my abs do not match the trend of my face at ALL, anyways.
Right now I have to keep studying for a chemistry exam that I have tomorrow. This post is mainly just to put a bug in my own ear about these ideas - what I had and was, what I lost, what I gained, what I can do now. I'm going to have my first break from everything in a while early next week, so I'm hoping to get some pondering (and posting) done then.
For now, what do you think?
-Nelly
 |
| oh, R2-D2 phone. how I miss you. |
He saw this picture and did a double-take. "Wow! You weren't kidding, that's crazy short!"
"Yeah, the sides were buzzed but the top was long enough to spike up. Man, I loved that cut..."
"You look like kind of a badass there!"
Fellas, take note. If you know a lady who does lifting, parkour, rugby, martial arts or some other hobby or lifestyle that you find impressively hardcore, or if she just looks like a badass, tell her so! It will win her heart, guaranteed. Of course, the lion's share of my heart still belongs to The Man, but there's always room for people who think I'm a badass :)
Of course that made me perk right up. I got to talk a little about my glory days last summer, lifting and hiking and swimming in the Eno and running barefoot and the not-then-totally-ridiculous idea of training to be a traceuse. And then it was back to the Loop Rule and the Junction Rule and C=Q/V and all the various equations used to find power. And TWO MORE HOURS ON A SINGLE PROBLEM. Gah.
When I got back to the house, on a whim, I decided to take another picture in the same location and approximately the same pose, just for comparison's sake. Here it is:
Here are the things I noticed, in order of the noticing:
1. My face and neck look thinner.
2. My hair is longer.
3. I'm paler.
4. I'm not smiling.
5. The striped shirt lends a bit of a French air, but it's distinctly not the wicked cool nouveau homme des cavernes look.
6. I am no longer a badass.
I just spent a long few minutes tugging on my hair and pondering all of this - the reasons why my badassery went out the window, the steps I can take to get it back, all the shit I still have to do that drains my time and my strength and my mental capacities. The fact that my first thought was "Now I'm skinnier and therefore prettier!" despite the fact that my physical state is way, way below what it was and should be, regardless of what my neck looks like. Other photos (not to be shared) reveal the fact that my abs do not match the trend of my face at ALL, anyways.
Right now I have to keep studying for a chemistry exam that I have tomorrow. This post is mainly just to put a bug in my own ear about these ideas - what I had and was, what I lost, what I gained, what I can do now. I'm going to have my first break from everything in a while early next week, so I'm hoping to get some pondering (and posting) done then.
For now, what do you think?
-Nelly
Sunday, September 4, 2011
"It JUST happened, you guys!"
The Eno is Durham's river, running (among other directions and places) between downtown and the northern suburbs and country area. I live north of the river, but quite close to it. Because of this, whenever I have some time to burn on a nice day (or a rainy one, for that matter!) I often head out to one of the many hiking trails along its length. Sometimes barefoot.
This time of year the woods by the river are just about as close to heaven as I can get. Everything is absolutely bursting with verdant life. There are tiny little toads the size of your pinky nail - no, really! - hopping around everywhere, and I caught a frog in a water-filled crevice in the rock today. And when the sun slants down and hits it just right, the whole forest just glows.
The best part about trekking around the woods right now is that, even though our September days are still pretty sticky-sweaty, you can always just dunk in the river and cool right down. Matter of fact, it's a Durham County ordinance that you have to at least wade every time you go to the Eno. Totally true fact.
So I usually end up immersed whenever I go there. I don't have a bathing suit that fits and if I did I doubt it would be very comfortable to hike in. Solution: I just swim in my clothes and keep a towel in the car. In this case, I had on the normal uniform: high-cut black sports bra, ankle-length loose black pants and a ratty shirt that doubled as a foot-towel so I wouldn't have to re-shoe with muddy feet. Walking back from my swimming hole (some distance upriver from the adorable but loud children), I wore everything but the shirt, which should be understandable.
Let me clarify that I was by no means in the running for the Most Skin Showing award. It's a holiday weekend, which means lots of people. Lots of shorts. Lots of bathing suits. And I swear I saw a miniskirt (which, in the woods, just kinda makes you go bwuh?). But it should be clear that I'm more covered up than the majority of these people.
So I'm walking back, right? I see these people coming the other way - a group of a couple families, with two sets of parents each walking a dog, and three boys of approximately 10 years of age following a little ways behind. I say hello to the parents, let the dogs sniff me and smile at the boys as I go past. And then I hear, in a low tone that is pure holy-shit-you-guys-someone-pinch-me, the following:
"I just saw. A naked woman. Walk past me."
Oh, little anonymous boy in the woods. I'm not sure whether to congratulate you on your admirable imagination, ask you how I can get my own pair of x-ray contacts, or just call you a creeper.
In other news: OH MY GOD YOU GUYS THE MAN IS FINALLY IN THIS STATE!!! He and his fam went straight to his aunt's house down south a ways, but he is LESS THAN 100 MILES FROM ME!!! I'm making a list of all the fun Triangle-based activities I'm looking forward to sharing with him and his family:
- go to the Eno to hike and swim and catch tiny toads and then let them go again
- and also to go kayaking
- and probably camping at some point
- toss paleo to the winds and take them for lunch at Cosmic Cantina, with dessert at Locopops
- catch some music downtown at Motorco on a night when all the food trucks are there so we can get tater tots fried in duck fat
- stroll around Duke Gardens
- head over to Chapel Hill to see the always jaw-dropping Paperhand Puppet Intervention, if we can schedule it soon enough
-N
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Update part 2: Time crunch
I left off right when we were headed up to Ohio. Unfortunately I don't have any photos to illustrate this next portion, but I hope my wittily sparkling prose will make up for that.
The reason we were headed up to the frozen North in the first place was a mini-convention about Mrs. Murr's exercise methodology of choice, T-Tapp. Anyone heard of it? I hadn't. From the teeny little bit I read about it beforehand, most of which mentioned core stability and activation, I'd imagined a series of Pilates-esque balancing sorts of movements. Well...not quite. There's a lot of standing in one place and moving in various directions and ways, focusing on activating whatever muscle group you're working on despite the lack of actual resistance. The deal is that you "become your own weight machine" by doing this. A few of the moves I remember are very slow shallow lunges (decent), a move that approximates that machine where you rotate your arms to pull the levers together in front of you - don't know what it's called (I could only do this one-armed) and the "hoe-down," which can only be illustrated with a video.
The magic really starts at about 39 seconds.
I think it might be the fact that I don't actually like real weight machines, but this didn't float my boat too much. It's obviously worked for Mrs. Murr and the other attendees of the event, and they're all immensely happy with it, and I wish them mountains of continued success. But I think this just illustrates the fact that it's really not the methodology that matters - it's whatever works for you and with you to get you to the point, both in physical health and happiness, where you want to be.
(That said, as for me and my house, we will lift heavy things and run around barefoot.)
While in the Land of the Burning River, I also got to stay with The Man & fam for a little while, and the two of us met up with my lovely friend Liz for lunch, conversation and a perusal of an awesome little vintage store, "The Funky Hippie." Check it out if you're ever in Akron. Here's my haul:
I eyed this gorgeous long dress as soon as we got in the door, but didn't actually think to try it on until The Man suggested it. It's a stretchy velour-type fabric, but not at all scratchy on the inside. Even better: it fits me like a glove. As in, I don't need to wear a bra with it. Given, I've only tried it on for brief stretches, but I think I could do a few minor alterations to ensure the comfy fit and coverage stay indefinitely.
The super-fantastic owner of the shop (whose name I unfortunately didn't catch) talked to me about swimming in ponds and driving to/through North Carolina and other bits of randomness, and then threw these earrings in for free when I bought the dress. They are made of pure sparkle and reach to my shoulders, and swing every which way whenever I turn my head. I'm wearing them right now and I keep swishing them back and forth.
And zomguh look at the BACK! It's obviously sheer (which makes the lack of a need for underpinnings even more serendipitous) and just holy gods look at it, it's so PRETTY! It makes me smile :)
By the way, the reason I talk about the dress and other trivial things so much is mostly that I actually have pictures of it, unlike The Man or Liz or the ridiculous amounts of 50-cent McDonald's ice cream cones I ate, paleo be damned. I need to change this - it's so much easier to remember events when there are images to spark the memory - but I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing to be so caught up in actually having the fun times that you forget to document them for posterity.
Here's a little tidbit I do remember pretty well, though. So Liz, The Man and I were all in the same computer science classes and labs during one year at Hiram. Liz and I were totes buds, but for some reason The Man and I never actually hung out then, just occasionally worked on lab papers together. I remember one long night the three of us spent writing our papers in the computer lounge, with us girls on one side and him on the other, and he kept zooming across the room backwards in his rolling chair to compare notes. We were reminiscing about that very night, and then everyone paused just to remember it. Then I started to ask Liz,
"Did you ever thi-"
"Noooo. Nope. Never." (she said, in the sweetest way possible).
Honestly, neither did I. It's not that I thought about and scoffed at the possibility, it's just that I didn't even consider it. And now, I realise that of the years since that day, we've been together for the majority. And...well...let's just say that my collection of pond creatures is growing.
Gosh, we are just too saccharine for words.
Next up: my triumphant return (sans sling!) to the Land of the Pine, various experimentation with fermentation (delicious!), a big huge pile of old drawings (flying squirrel dragon, anyone?) and...preparations for the first day of school. Which is this coming Monday. That's right, bitches. I'm back in the world of higher education, and I'm gonna totally destroy it. Wish me luck.
-N
PS: Caitlin, I an a mega stupid-head for not seeking you out on this latest visit to Ohio. As soon as I can manage another trip, I'd really really love to see you, if you can spare the time. And hopefully we can have cakes and ale and bonfires, if you catch my drift :)
The reason we were headed up to the frozen North in the first place was a mini-convention about Mrs. Murr's exercise methodology of choice, T-Tapp. Anyone heard of it? I hadn't. From the teeny little bit I read about it beforehand, most of which mentioned core stability and activation, I'd imagined a series of Pilates-esque balancing sorts of movements. Well...not quite. There's a lot of standing in one place and moving in various directions and ways, focusing on activating whatever muscle group you're working on despite the lack of actual resistance. The deal is that you "become your own weight machine" by doing this. A few of the moves I remember are very slow shallow lunges (decent), a move that approximates that machine where you rotate your arms to pull the levers together in front of you - don't know what it's called (I could only do this one-armed) and the "hoe-down," which can only be illustrated with a video.
The magic really starts at about 39 seconds.
I think it might be the fact that I don't actually like real weight machines, but this didn't float my boat too much. It's obviously worked for Mrs. Murr and the other attendees of the event, and they're all immensely happy with it, and I wish them mountains of continued success. But I think this just illustrates the fact that it's really not the methodology that matters - it's whatever works for you and with you to get you to the point, both in physical health and happiness, where you want to be.
(That said, as for me and my house, we will lift heavy things and run around barefoot.)
While in the Land of the Burning River, I also got to stay with The Man & fam for a little while, and the two of us met up with my lovely friend Liz for lunch, conversation and a perusal of an awesome little vintage store, "The Funky Hippie." Check it out if you're ever in Akron. Here's my haul:
The super-fantastic owner of the shop (whose name I unfortunately didn't catch) talked to me about swimming in ponds and driving to/through North Carolina and other bits of randomness, and then threw these earrings in for free when I bought the dress. They are made of pure sparkle and reach to my shoulders, and swing every which way whenever I turn my head. I'm wearing them right now and I keep swishing them back and forth.
And zomguh look at the BACK! It's obviously sheer (which makes the lack of a need for underpinnings even more serendipitous) and just holy gods look at it, it's so PRETTY! It makes me smile :)
By the way, the reason I talk about the dress and other trivial things so much is mostly that I actually have pictures of it, unlike The Man or Liz or the ridiculous amounts of 50-cent McDonald's ice cream cones I ate, paleo be damned. I need to change this - it's so much easier to remember events when there are images to spark the memory - but I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing to be so caught up in actually having the fun times that you forget to document them for posterity.
Here's a little tidbit I do remember pretty well, though. So Liz, The Man and I were all in the same computer science classes and labs during one year at Hiram. Liz and I were totes buds, but for some reason The Man and I never actually hung out then, just occasionally worked on lab papers together. I remember one long night the three of us spent writing our papers in the computer lounge, with us girls on one side and him on the other, and he kept zooming across the room backwards in his rolling chair to compare notes. We were reminiscing about that very night, and then everyone paused just to remember it. Then I started to ask Liz,
"Did you ever thi-"
"Noooo. Nope. Never." (she said, in the sweetest way possible).
Honestly, neither did I. It's not that I thought about and scoffed at the possibility, it's just that I didn't even consider it. And now, I realise that of the years since that day, we've been together for the majority. And...well...let's just say that my collection of pond creatures is growing.
Gosh, we are just too saccharine for words.
Next up: my triumphant return (sans sling!) to the Land of the Pine, various experimentation with fermentation (delicious!), a big huge pile of old drawings (flying squirrel dragon, anyone?) and...preparations for the first day of school. Which is this coming Monday. That's right, bitches. I'm back in the world of higher education, and I'm gonna totally destroy it. Wish me luck.
-N
PS: Caitlin, I an a mega stupid-head for not seeking you out on this latest visit to Ohio. As soon as I can manage another trip, I'd really really love to see you, if you can spare the time. And hopefully we can have cakes and ale and bonfires, if you catch my drift :)
Friday, August 12, 2011
Update part 1: Army of Chickens
OH EM GEE! I'm back again, from another ridiculously long absence! Please don't throw anything at me.
I have been zipping all over the place! As you know, I've been beslinged of late, and unable to do necessary things like, say, drive myself to get food. So, since my parents were going out of town (to the Isle of Wight for their 30th anniversary, yay them!) I got shuffled off to Wake Forest, NC to spend some time getting taken care of by my godfamily, the Murrs, a couple of whom (Laura and Eamon) I introduced y'all to way back at Christmas. I spent most of my time there eating. Mrs. Murr is a fantastic cook, and plied me with (among varied delectables) mountains of homemade sauerkraut, rivers of happy milk and the thickest cream I've ever tasted and fresh eggs from their army of chickens. Take a look:
The birds are locked in an enclosure with a small yard and a henhouse at night, but during the day they have the run of the whole yard - which, as you can tell, is mostly pine forest. There are about five different kinds: little white ones, slightly bigger black, red and striped ones and then the beauty you see above. She's the biggest of the whole flock, and she has these gorgeous ruffles of feathers all the way down her legs, like fancy lace pantaloons. She struts around like a big-bosomed aunt from a P. G. Wodehouse book, usually with a couple of the little white hens following her.
Apart from the two Murr boys, Eamon and Liam, I encountered only a couple more beasties: first, the Murr's positively liquid cat, Luna:
...and a tiny kitten that Eamon brought home from a trip, named Ollie and threw into my arms, where he promptly fell asleep.
He fell asleep pretty much everywhere else, too.
I was squealing like an idiot the entire time I took these (and many more) pictures. I mean, really. Kitten. Sleeping. I can't not squeal.
During my stay, the eldest and sole Murr daughter, Laura, returned from a school trip to Mexico, bearing a real Mayan sleeping hammock (so cool!) and a sketchbook crammed with pictures of Mayan runes and temples and spouting crazy stories of beautiful female vampires who live in trees during the day and come out to feed at night. She had only been home for a few days when she, Mrs. M. and I all packed up and took off again, heading north to Ohio...which is what the next post will be about. Stay tuned!
For now, I'll leave you with more chickens:
-N
I have been zipping all over the place! As you know, I've been beslinged of late, and unable to do necessary things like, say, drive myself to get food. So, since my parents were going out of town (to the Isle of Wight for their 30th anniversary, yay them!) I got shuffled off to Wake Forest, NC to spend some time getting taken care of by my godfamily, the Murrs, a couple of whom (Laura and Eamon) I introduced y'all to way back at Christmas. I spent most of my time there eating. Mrs. Murr is a fantastic cook, and plied me with (among varied delectables) mountains of homemade sauerkraut, rivers of happy milk and the thickest cream I've ever tasted and fresh eggs from their army of chickens. Take a look:
 |
| just a few |
 |
| my favorite one! |
 | |
| the delicious output |
Apart from the two Murr boys, Eamon and Liam, I encountered only a couple more beasties: first, the Murr's positively liquid cat, Luna:
...and a tiny kitten that Eamon brought home from a trip, named Ollie and threw into my arms, where he promptly fell asleep.
 |
| yes i know he's not asleep here |
He fell asleep pretty much everywhere else, too.
I was squealing like an idiot the entire time I took these (and many more) pictures. I mean, really. Kitten. Sleeping. I can't not squeal.
During my stay, the eldest and sole Murr daughter, Laura, returned from a school trip to Mexico, bearing a real Mayan sleeping hammock (so cool!) and a sketchbook crammed with pictures of Mayan runes and temples and spouting crazy stories of beautiful female vampires who live in trees during the day and come out to feed at night. She had only been home for a few days when she, Mrs. M. and I all packed up and took off again, heading north to Ohio...which is what the next post will be about. Stay tuned!
For now, I'll leave you with more chickens:
-N
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