Quick & Dirty News from Here

1.  I come to you fresh from watching Juventus pull out a squeaker of a 2-1 win against Lazio which keeps them first in the league by one precarious point.  My boyfriend Alessa got the winner at around minute 83 or so.  That brute Kozak seems to have broken Leo's nose.  ADP kissed Claudio.  And at the end, when the tifosi were all signing the Juve song, Gio joined in.  &hearts

2.  Juve spams take me pretty much an entire day to put together.  I just can't do them regularly and still keep my job.  I miss doing them, but it can't be helped.

3.  Der Kirbenhund has a new trick.  Every day, he comes up with something new to give us all a heart attack.  Yesterday, it was a runny pile of poop surrounded by a lake of mucous and bright red blood.  Today, it was about five minutes when he decided he was unable to stand up.  So we get all frightened and worked up and then everything goes back to normal as if nothing happened.  It's freaky.

4.  In connection with #3, I'm sure I told you all before that when I walk into the regular vet, it's like Norm walking into Cheers.  We have now reached the point where it's the same thing at the specialty vet.  *sigh*

5.  In connection with #3&4, Kirby is no longer on chemo.  His platelet count is so low (below 8,000 when 200-500,000 is normal) that it isn't safe.  There is very little that can be done about this.  It's possible he has a tick-borne infection that can be treated, but if it isn't that, then we are pretty much at the end of the medical merry-go-round.

Aside from the five minutes a day when he has us completely scared out of our wits, Kirby is not acting sick at all.  He doesn't seem to be in any discomfort, and he's happy and affectionate like always.  That's the important part.  Truly, I'm almost glad that there aren't really any medical options left to pursue.  It would suit me fine if he were to stay around forever, of course, but we are way past the point when it makes a difference if we understand what's going on.   If his platelet counts can't be raised, then does it really matter what the cause is?  And if it doesn't matter what the cause it, then why should we be extracting bone marrow samples and doing more ultrasounds?  He has been a medical mystery since the beginning when he started coughing up chunks of plastic; bloody diarrhea for no apparent reason is just another bit of unexplainable Kirby-ness that makes him my Special Sweetheart.  It's time to enjoy the time he has left while he still feels good and can still be a dog and do dog things.

6.  I've tried going vegan again.  So far, about two weeks.  Oops.  Except tonight, we finished off a bottle of salad dressing that has dairy in it.   See this one is vegan, but this one isn't. Perhaps you can see how Mr. D brought the wrong kind home.   I forgot it wasn't vegan and didn't throw it away and so it accidentally made it onto the plate and into my tummy.  Oh well.  It's a sunk cost.  Whether I remembered to throw it away or decided to finish it off can no longer have any effect on the market for animal products, so it was essentially a neutral act.  This is all going pretty well.  It's easier than I thought it would be, and I've discovered that there is a whole lot of vegan junk food available if you have the patience to read labels at the Fresh Fields.  I've also figured out which type of soymilk makes good gelato, so we've got it covered.

Except for one thing.  I listened to a podcast the other day featuring a short story, A Dog's Tale by Mark Twain.  I cried for hours and stayed red-eyed and puffy for three days.  Every time I looked at one of the beagles, I could imagine them being in a cage at a market in China, waiting for someone to choose them to eat for dinner.   The details of what people do to animals are just too much for me.

In Which Dirtbunny's Principles Turn Out to Be Fairly Bendy

Originally posted on December 15, 2012

1.  It's no secret:  I have diabetes and I am on insulin.  I have some that I carry back and forth to work, but I keep it in a mini-fridge under my desk and sometimes I forget to bring it home.  Like yesterday.
2.  Missing a shot or two is not always a big deal, but sometimes it can make me feel really sick.
3.  When I realized I had forgotten to bring it home last night at about 8pm, Mr. D offered to drive me into the city to retrieve it.  I wanted desperately to go to sleep, so I took a pass and decided to wait it out.
4.  At midnight, I woke up burning up, agitated, twitchy, trembly, and freaked out by nightmares.  I have miscalculated.  The missed injections have made me sick.  I have to go in to retrieve the insulin.  No problem.  I'll just do it.
5.  Problem.  Mr. D is still up and he offers to drive me in.  I should turn him down, but I don't.  He drives me in.  He tells me gently that he's irked that we didn't take care of this 4 hours earlier when he offered before.  He's right, of course.
6.  The whole transaction takes about 45 minutes and all is well.
7.  This morning, I'm feeling appreciative, so I offer to make Mr. D whatever he wants for dinner.
8.  I should have seen this coming.  He wants meatballs and rigatoni, his absolute favorite.
9.  I've been experimenting with veganism this fall.  I haven't cooked meat in months (except to make Kirby dinner, but that's another drama.)  After beating myself up for a while, I decided to give up on being a vegan until after the holidays.  I'm a pretty serious cook.  I can adapt to no eggs and no meat, but dairy butter plays a big part in baking.  Especially holiday baking, in which I might go through 7-8 pounds of butter making breads and sweets.  I did not adjust to non-dairy butter in time to forgo dairy butter, but I can try again later when traditional butter/sugar bombs are less of an obsession.
10.  Despite the vegan thing, and lately, the vegetarian thing, I turn out to have no misgivings at all about making meatballs.  Ground mix with beef, pork, and veal?  No problem.
11.  However, while at the market, I read all the labels on the granola, and I buy the one that's vegan.  The only thing that keeps granola from being vegan is honey and I'm not convinced so far that exploiting honeybees is the moral equivalent of exploiting cows.
12.  I come home with about 4 pounds of fresh ricotta, because they haven't had any for a while and now I can make a cheesecake, lots of parmesan, butter, eggs, cream, Ghirardelli products that contain milk solids, gelatin (which I haven't bought in years because the thought of where it comes from disgusts me so much), a pound and a half of mascarpone, a mini-ham, ice cream, and a bunch of different holiday candy things that contain God-knows-what.  And other stuff too.  But, and this is important, I bought vegan granola.

Veal? Yes.  Gelatin?  Absolutely.  Something like 8 pounds of cheese?  You better believe it.

But vegan granola.

A Day of Dirtbunny

Originally posted on January 10, 2012



5:45 am:  Alarm goes off.  Hit snooze.
5:52 am:  Alarm goes off.  Hit snooze
5:59 am:  Alarm goes off.  OK, OK, I'm up.  Go get Mac to see if anyone commented on yesterday's post.   No.  Look for transfer news, read a little real world news, decide Newt Gingrich is still a dick.  Mr. D comes in with my coffee, then he gets in bed and starts snoring.  Drink coffee.  Play one sudoku.  Decide not to play another because I'm about five minutes behind and I don't want to aggravate the beast within Mr. D.

Get in shower.  Contemplate speeding things up by not conditioning hair, but opt in favor of conditioner.  This turns out to be a wise decision.

Brush teeth.  Examine eyebrow.  Where is are my tweezers?  Mr. D has borrowed it to remove glass shards from the washing machine (don't ask) because he forgets we have needle-nose pliers for that.  Summing up:  he borrows it/them for an illicit purpose and then he doesn't return it/them.  Wash it/them carefully with alcohol and tend to eyebrow.

Start getting dressed.  What am I going to wear?  Put yesterday's dirty stuff in hamper.  What am I going to wear?  Can't put on pants until I've put lotion on my legs, and shouldn't really do that without doing my feet as well, and if I'm going to do my feet, which I really must, I'll want to put socks on immediately, so need to choose some socks before I can start any of this.  Before I can choose socks, I need to know what else I am going to wear so I can, you know, match, sort of.

What Dirtbunny has been obsessing about this week

ISSUE NUMBER ONE:  SPECIAL SWEETHEART

Hey!  That's the same color nail polish that I have on now! OMG.  I haven't gotten my nails done since before Christmas. *sends Mr. D out to clear an ice-free path to the car.*

More odds and ends

I think I've finally found the perfect coffeemaker.  See if you can find the one thing that keeps me from getting it.

We have a new tenant at our office building.

No Big Deal

It's 6:30 pm on Friday night.  You're hungry.  You're tired.  Tomorrow is Saturday.  On Saturday, at 10:00 am, you are expected at Mel's for craft club.  You have promised to bring food--specifically, madeleines.  You made this promise willingly and enthusiastically.  Somehow, however, you have arrived at 6:30 the night before and you have not started the madeleines.  What do you do?  WHAT DO YOU DO???

Thoughts on the Lady Baltimore Cake

When I was an infant, the cookbook most frequently consulted in our house was an old edition of the Betty Crocker Cookbook. It was full of exotic delights. For example, the recipe for Spanish Rice was accompanied by a stylized drawing of a senorita in a mantilla. One of the recipes that caught my imagination was the Lady Baltimore Cake. I can't remember why I was so captivated. Was there a photo? Was there a blurb that made it sound especially enticing? Was it because it was a *gasp* three layer cake? That would have rocked my eight-year-old world because all the cakes I knew only had two layers. (Little did I know at the time that the rest of America had already moved on to cake mixes. Frosting came in mixes too back then, but shortly evolved into tubs of ready-made frosting when the concept of adding your own water became too much for the American cook of the 1970s).

BBP: 2007 is done

When we last examined the Bunny Baking Project, she had two last recipes to try.  The first was a Lemon Tart.  I've made a bunch of lemon tarts.  This one was delish, but did not stand out from the others and in fact, the crust was unnecessarily fussy when an ordinary pate brisee would do.  I give it two stars:  a do-over, but not a stand-out.

And that brings me to the Mother of All 2007 recipes:  The Black Forest Cake.  And here is what I learned:  If you cannot find really really good tart cherries, then don't bother.  I was only able to find mediocre cherries.  They would have been fine in a pie doctored up with sugar and cornstarch, but not so much when they stand alone (aside from a soak in kirsch).

Old Lady Post: Football is Suffering

 Lech Posnan 1:1 Juventus



I'm pretty sure that zebra is Vincenzo.  When you put them all in hats, gloves, and tights, cover them with snow, and freeze them solid, they tend to look alike.


Ugh.  What can be said?  Does anyone really give a shit about a 14-game unbeaten streak when it means Juventus can't even advance out of the group stage of the At Least We're in the Europa League?  Sure, they aren't losing, but not losing is not the same thing as winning, exactly.  Is there a silver lining here at all?  Perhaps.  This means Of Blacks can play babies against Man City and let his A-squad give it their all against Lazio and Chievo, and it means no more twice-a-week schedules except for Coppa weeks (Ale's knees and I are grateful for that), and it means no more matches in the snow unless it's friendly Italian snow.  Those are all very good things
AND YET THEY ARE NOT EVEN THE SMALLEST CONSOLATION FOR THE EPIC DISASTER IN POLAND.   AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHy4r1bciodffoijw2e31908e43%#@%$%*^

Bunny Baking Project

Those Nut Crescent Cookies are also good with their powdered sugar coating:

I really don't see why I ever need to try another recipe for these.  The hardest part was chopping the pecans.  (You can't use the food processor because pecans are relatively oily and the food processor will start turning them into pecan butter before all of the pieces are as small as they're supposed to be.)

Butter + Nuts + Sugar = Love

I'm home today because of an optometry appointment, and I embarked on the Nut Crescent Cookies (I chose pecans) from here:

...and if you could smell my house right now, you would die.  OMG.  I am a genius.  Ooh.  Time to pull them out of the oven.  BRB  

Jesus Mary and Joseph.  They are awesome even without their coating of powdered sugar.  I am a goddess.


P.S.  I found cherries.  Not at any of the good stores.  At the crappiest outlet of the crappiest store.  Motto:  Never Give Up.

Dogs Hate Daylight Savings Time

Their tummies say, "It's suppertime."  Their eyes say, "It's getting dark.  It's suppertime."  Their humans say, "It's only 5 o'clock.  It's not suppertime."  Their tiny little brains reply, "Then why are you in the kitchen messing with stuff that smells like food?"  Their Bunny says, "I'm always in the kitchen messing with food, at least when I'm not taking a nap."  They say "Gimme some.  NOW."  Bunny's feet say "Scoot."  And no supper is forthcoming.  And you can't reason with them that it's only once a year because they don't remember for one and for two they find no comfort in that.  

I woke up at 7:00 today, only it was really 6:00, and I celebrated being up by watching football.  Viola--Donkeys were live online at 6:30 a.m., so I had coffee and sleepy beagles and yarn and I watched football in bed.  The league decided to have some 6:30 12:30 matches on Sundays, probably for television purposes, but some Italians are predictably decrying the intrusion of crass popular culture into the sacrosanct rituals of mass and Sunday dinner with the family.  This is a little hard for me to understand as a secular American, because everyone knows that it's church and family that encroaches on television, not the other way around.  Anyhoo, you can't expect the die-hard fans ("ultras") to skip the match because of church and family, so they go, but they don't like it.  A few weeks ago, I can't remember which match, but the ultras went to the game, but protested:  By bringing sandwiches to the match.  And eating them.  

Simmering the sauce

We have achieved the stage of the bolognese when I don't have to stand there and watch any more.  If I just remember to stir it once in awhile, that's enough.  The biscotti are sitting in a turned-off oven for their final crisping, and they will be ready in time for lattes.  And so I am finally sitting down.  Aaaaaaaaaaahhh.


Today's biscotti is Lemon-Anise, only I hate anise, so they are Lemon-Vanilla.  This is the recipe:

I left the magazine on my knitting bag, so Tiki borrowed it and edited it for me.  Maybe it's compulsive to slog through recipes just because they're there, but if I were really compulsive, I'd be forced to use anise instead of being flexible and changing the recipe, right?

Flotsam. Also: Introducing the Bunny Baking Project

So I got up for work one day this month and saw this by the front door.  Can anyone explain this?

Um, yes, those are pants.  Yes, Mr. D's pants.  Why are Mr. D's pants draped over the back of the sofa next to the front door?  Maybe he didn't want to waste any time when the dial-a-whore arrived.

How To Make Vaffanculo Gelato

First of all, yes, that's a naughty word, so don't go looking it up if you aren't planning to use it.  Second, I invented this when I couldn't read the recipe and put in too much chocolate.  I'm sure that in theory, there is a point where you can put in too much chocolate, but this is not I repeat NOT too much chocolate.  Trust me.  

And finally, you may be wondering how this gelato got its name.  Well, on the one hand, it was a concoction born  out of a mistake.  Dirtbunny is so spectacularly good in the kitchen that even her mistakes are freaking awesome, so vaffanculo to the doubters and the haters.  Second, this is exactly the kind of gelato you will want to have on days when you'd like to say vaffanculo to everyone you know and the other 6 billion people in the world as well, just to make sure everything's covered.

1. Get out favorite recipe for Bacio gelato.
2. Leave out the hazelnuts.
3. Triple the amount of cocoa powder.  You can only mix so much in with the egg yolks, so the rest has to go in the pot in the beginning with the sugar and milk.
4. Finish making the custard, then cool, and freeze in the usual way.
5. Serve kinda soft and slightly melty.

Don't share this with the dogs.  It's so powerful it might kill them.

True Love

Thor's First Test Drive

Tiki taking a nap

Thor's First Finished Product

Kirby Taking a Nap

Bunny's New Boyfriend

Bunny used to have, in addition to her spouse and dogs, a special friend. It is possible that he was here before Mr. D. I can't remember for sure. It just seemed like he was always there and there was no point to trying to have a life that didn't include him. Last January, the unthinkable happened. I was devastated. I know I couldn't live without my special friend for long, and that I would have to find a new special friend.

There are lots of inferior candidates out there. If you want to see him in a flashy color, like a prom date in a baby blue tuxedo with ruffled shirt, then you pretty much have to go with The Artisan. He's flashy, but small and underpowered. You can tell he's popular with dilettantes and posers because he's widely available in pretty much any crappy store with a kitchen department. Also, the fact that he's available in so many colors makes him perfect for the woman who cares more about how things look than about how things are.

My old boyfriend, well they don't make them exactly like him any more, but the classic Heavy Duty boys are always in fashion. Or they should be. They are getting harder and harder to come by. These days, they assume that if you aren't going for looks, then you must be going for size, hence, The Professional. But really, what woman needs that much mixer? The extra quart is just kind of....there, not doing anything useful or serving any purpose. I don't need him to be pretty. I don't need him to be gigantic. I just want someone who's there to be himself, doing like he do, day in and day out, complimenting my attributes and combining with Bunny to make a beautiful partnership that will last for decades, and handle biscotti dough.

 

Footie, Food, and Fiber

Footie

The World Cup is over, we have a winner, a loser or two,  a great number of national sides who deserve to be proud of themselves, and a handful of national sides who tolerate bad behavior from assholes but otherwise deserve to be proud of themselves.  There were--what?--33 matches?  32?  Dirtbunny watched them all.  All of them.  She has made a handful of new FC Dirtbunny call-ups based on what she saw. 

First, welcome Diego Benaglio, Swiss goalkeeper.  He's a monster.  grrrr.  Also, from the German national team, Arne Friedrich (an underappreciated defender), and--gulp--Bastian Schweinsteiger, warrior midfielder.  I know, I was really down on Schweini a few years ago, but he has won me over with his consistently good play and newly-mature attitude.  Also, he reformed the hair.

Second, welcome to the Uruguayan Diegos:  El capitano defender Diego Lugano, striker Diego Forlan, midfielder Diego Perez, and defender Diego Fucile.  The last one gets in because if I'm going to call up a bunch of Uruguayan Diegos, why not all of them?  It's fun to be arbitrary.  Oh, and welcome Xavi.  Your call-up is way overdue.

Boing Boing Boing

Today is a Tigger day.


1. I have already done a day's worth of work. A productive Bunny is a happy Bunny, because as we all know, she measures her value according to her accomplishments. It's amazing what not being treated like a stupid person and suspected conspirator can do for one's morale.

2. Two of Bunny's teams are playing/have played today, so there will be excellent footie tonight.

3. I cut Kirby's toenails last night all by myself without having to pay anyone to do it for me and, although there was a shaky moment or two, I did not kill the dog. Hooray! Now he walks a lot quieter.

4. I got Collard Greens in my farm box yesterday. I soooooooo hate them and I was going to just face the truth and throw them out right away but then Ah hed an eyedeear. I'm going to braise them with olives and pancetta and sundried tomatoes and maybe less salt than I used last time I braised greens that way and maybe maybe maybe they'll be palatable! And even if I hate them, Mr. D will eat them because they will contain pork.

More from Day 3

Item One: Tiki spent the day doing like he do.....

......forsaking the comforts that cost me real, actual money (dog beds, air conditioning), to find whatever bits of sun there are so he can bake himself.