I’ve mostly moved over to http://lovesgoodfood.com/jason. Still playing with formatting, but I’ve slurped in all the WordPress posts as well as Yelp reviews.
I’m currently using ikiwiki, a nice, mostly static package. I’ve had to hack up a few plugins so far, so we’ll see how long I stick with it.
From a message sent around where I work:
The three-time Hugo award SF writer Vernor Vinge just gave an intriguing talk at AAAI-2010. He believes that by 2030 human history likely will reach a singularity in which four computing technologies [...] will create intelligent agencies that will surpass humans in every conceivable creative task. What fun!
Regardless of whether such a technological singularity may come to pass, my gut disagrees with the gushing interpretation.
creative tasks go cross-eyed
when the spring leaf falls.
Spawned off of Dana’s wonderful, fantastic American sentence:
Everything else can be new while the self spins in still epicycles.
Epicycles: illusory motions keep ideas fixed in their spheres.
Spheres are the dreams of circles, circles of lines, lines of mere points like eyes.
Two points define a line, horizontal, a horizon of yearning.
Horizons tease but never come, keeping ahead like a true idea.
Kinda feel like these want more form to connect them and lead them forward.
The rösti is great with the venison roast Nathan made. The rösti reheats well in an oven at 400°F+. The higher the temperature, the more it’ll re-fry on the outside. At 400°F, the outside re-fried without burning while the inside re-heated.
This is more-or-less the recipe from the Whole Wheat with notes and moderately pointless illustrations. A rösti seems to be a Swiss version of hash browns or latkes. One that combines yummy garden parsnips with incredibly healthy quinoa? Worth a shot.
I had intended this to be a side for a salad. I ran late, ate the salad early, and then discovered this won’t work so well aside a salad. This parsnip-quinoa thingy is strong. A rich butter with the quinoa leaves a very nutty flavor, and the parsnips roll around it to fill in some gaps sweetly. I think these would be great with a slightly spicy, gravy-less meatloaf, replacing mashed potatoes or fries.
My other main observation is that the recipe from the Whole Wheat doesn’t call for a binder. I think it could use half an egg, or a whole egg if you like eggs. I made four smaller patties, and they barely held together. An egg might help crisp up the outside and brown more, too.
But the recipe, adapted from the Whole Wheat:
- 1 pound of parsnips, more or less (think mine was a bit less)
- 1 cup of cooked quinoa, still warm (roughly 1/3 a cup uncooked)
- butter, 2 tablespoons in the mixture then enough to cook
- salt & pepper
- Boil the parsnips with the skin on. Mine were very irregular garden parsnips and cooked well within 13 minutes. Cool sufficiently to handle, then slide and slip the skins off. Next time, I’ll try peeling ahead and steaming them. I think it’ll be easier.
- Mix two tablespoons of butter with the still-warm quinoa along with salt and pepper to taste. If the quinoa’s warm, the butter will melt and mix more easily.
- Grate, chop, and mash the parsnips. This is easy with a grater disk in a food processor. It’s even easier if the working grater disk is in the same state as the person cooking. Whoops. I squooshed off the soft outer layers and then grated and chopped the inner layers. One caveat about grating with a food processor: You’ll also grate any wooden cores in the parsnips. Those don’t taste or feel as good.
- Combine the quinoa mixture with the parsnip bits. Knead it through your fingers a few times, and it will clump together pretty well. If you want multiple smaller patties, separate the mixture into appropriate balls.
- Heat butter in a saute pan. I used a good bit of butter because I used a larger pan. If you make one solid rösti, you might not need much. Heat the butter over a relatively high heat to bring out the nutty flavor.
- Add however many patties will fit, and cook over medium-low for 10 minutes or so. You’re not going to burn it easily, so don’t stress.
- Now here’s the “fun” part: Flip the rösti. For smaller patties, gently flip them with a spatula. For one big patty, remove the pan from the heat, hold something larger and flat against the top of pan, and flip the pan to invert the rösti. Then gently slide the rösti back into the pan on the heat again, possible after adding more butter for extra browning on the second side.
- Cook on medium-low until you think it’s done. Again, you’re not going to burn this easily, so you can let it brown. Everything here is already cooked. If you use egg, you’ll definitely want to cook both sides, but 10 minutes per side should be plenty.
And at the end, you get nice yummies that also prove I’m no food stylist.
it starts with the beans
dried tight in their skin
shaken shaken shaken sluffed
wire mesh grates worked by hand
then the beans are packed
big bags breath potential
poured packed tied tossed
rough burlap grows tall beside
now see the settling that
may occur during shipping
pushed rolled swelled lifted
deep ocean coursing beneath
into hopper shaking beans
down before dreary eyes
filled ground tamped brewed
thin crema rising above
and out the door with a cup
no care taken en route
gulped stopped honked sighed
people all squeezing past
settling in to shake numbers
measuring desired growth
computed cranked graphed paid
soft mesh seats below
flowing back where the leaves
rustle with flowers and breeze
opened buzzed touched caressed
a pregnant season ahead
This was written in a hustle to submit to the Hustle issue of 48hr Magazine. Didn’t make it in. Not too surprising considering some of the names I recognize in the contributor list, but it just kinda happened while I was sitting at Octane working.
Edit: Hey! I have a box! Well, a shipping container. Implicitly. Good enough for me to post this to We Write Poems, right? Write? Wight?
I doubt if I’ll keep up with all the great prompts at all the great sites (Big Tent Poetry, We Write Poems, Poetic Asides, Writer’s Island, POW, and others), but all the talk of Ren Faire lately made the Big Tent’s resonate.
calling out with a slightly off mystique
wallowing in the seedy sensual
exhibiting only the bizarre freak
challenging reason’s illusory dual
to run away, chase possibilities,
to dive deeply within that core of wants
to fly far above the hope and the tease
to pick your own craziness, mirrored taunt
is nothing but a cloud of dust raised up
being left behind the traveling sideshow
was only passed fancy filling this cup
am I left here with empty hopes in tow
next time around, again, I’ll follow chance
before I’m left with dreamed lusty romance
I do have to admit that my first, knee-jerk response was a tad shorter.
on running away
my calling litters the road:
Often posted to the 17 or haiku groups on identi.ca:
Standing by the track, hoping to catch the earliest passing cool breeze.
And there it goes away on the breeze, my fried brain.
often bring out those feelings
undeserved but true.
Where some see lines, others feel sight pulled taught across imagination.
get out of the way
let words sing and shine.
I want naught but love
though less physical than that
A nearly full moon
wearing a fast cloak of cloud
calls forth a fresh Spring.
And yes, I know some people roll their eyes at short forms. “The short forms aren’t enough work to be poetry.” The other side is that they’re accessible to all. Anyone can add a little form to an observation. That renders it special simply by intent. And poetic, by intent to be formed and special. I have no illusions about speaking deep truths or grand images. I just speak. That’s all I can do.
One last quip / tanka for NaPoWriMo 2010:
closing out this month
by thanking those who always
give their words to air
never expecting return
but feeling the sky open
(Time zones do rather remove the drama.)
I started being silly and clichéd to loosen up for another idea I have, but this stumbled out.
it’s the final night
and still i must write
palm thwacked against face
words laugh at my chase
quicker than my wit
they do confound it
left in swirling dust
ideas turn to rust
falling apart they
never find their way
except slowly down
into the deep ground
from each separate burr
that ground against sky
as words said good-bye
and were buried deep
feeling sky’s tears seep
through the hard kernel
’till after vernal
up sprout words their own
that words’ scorn had sown
stretching out their leaves
unfurl to perceive
the light breath of wind
and feel the sun’s grin
Thanks again and again to the contributors at ReadWritePoem and at Poetic Asides for prompts, poems, and feedback. You could say I used the “free prompt” at RWP, but it feels more like it used me. Left me with smile, though, so I can’t complain.
(Oops. And I can’t count. Fixed a line. Except that I really do pronounce “separate” with two syllables. Sorry.)