Movies like to tell their story and get it neatly tied up in two hours, give or take. Novels, particularly romance novels, not only like the ending to be neat and tidy, but quite often they lead one to believe that the world eventually balances out between things going horribly wrong and then miraculously well.
Intellectually I believe that things happen in a completely random manner. Good things happen, bad things happen, good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good. There is no such thing as life being fair.
Irrationally I believe that life should be fair. If enough bad things happen, then something good must happen. Must! Surely even statistically that makes sense? On a more logical level I believe Rudyard Kipling had it right (I must believe it more than I thought – I didn’t even have to look this up):
The rain it falls upon the just
And the unjust fella
But mainly on the just because
The unjust steals the just’s umbrella
If, however, the world does want to show me that there is some strange cosmic balance I have a GREAT suggestion:
Yesterday – which was a Wednesday – the boy was in a bit of trouble with me. Enough that I was irritated with Him Whom I Love. The Wednesday before he was in deep serious trouble. Nope, nothing illegal or even bad, just a long day of my having to do things because he hadn’t to. Things that involved driving around, cleaning out mouldy thermoses, having no time to do my own errands, starting early to I could leave early and not being able to leave early because he forgot to come get me. Anyway – we had a pretty serious discussion about WHAT MUST CHANGE.
Today I found out, whilst doing my banking online, that the Wednesday prior to that I was in China, shopping with my Visa. And nope, not online either if that is what you were thinking. One purchase, at least, was made face to face.
Was I really in China? No, I wasn’t. Although the first person I talked to at the bank wanted to know if it was possible I’d been and forgotten about it. I guess there are people who travel so often to so many places that they might forget they’d been in China on a particular day, but I’m not one of them. I’d like to be, but I’m not.
So, three bad Wednesdays under my belt. What might next week bring? Well, next Wednesday they announce the winners of the Children’s Wish Foundation lottery. First prize for which is a house, or $695,000.00. This is a lottery for which I hold a ticket. I am also entered for the early bird prize ($75,000.00) and the vacation for life draw. One week a year, free, for the rest of my life. Not always at the same place if you choose to move around, but always somewhere swanky.
So there’s my suggestion life balancer: three bad= one beyond the moon fantastic. I’m waiting.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
Shoes
I bought shoes yesterday. Two pairs, in fact. Shoes that I actually needed! Not that I am one of those people with far more shoes than they need, but it was still nice buying something knowing they were needed. One pair black, one pair brown.
why were they needed? Because - except for the usual number of summer sandals - I have no flat shoes. My theory is the shorter the woman the taller the heels. We need something not to look like little kids!
You know what doesn't help? Giving up on the grown up shoes and ending up with two bright yellow shoe boxes, covered with brightly covered little dancing stick figures. Because yes, in the end the shoes were from the kids section. I have - to quote a shoe salesmen who was trying to help me find shoes a while ago - ridiculous feet. NOT a good sales tactic, by the way.
My theory when paying for shoes is that if they ask if the shoes are for me, I say yes and pay the tax. If they don't ask, I don't tell. There were years of paying taxes on shoes for The Girl when I should have said who the shoes were for so I figure eventually it will even out. Reasonable, or fraud?
why were they needed? Because - except for the usual number of summer sandals - I have no flat shoes. My theory is the shorter the woman the taller the heels. We need something not to look like little kids!
You know what doesn't help? Giving up on the grown up shoes and ending up with two bright yellow shoe boxes, covered with brightly covered little dancing stick figures. Because yes, in the end the shoes were from the kids section. I have - to quote a shoe salesmen who was trying to help me find shoes a while ago - ridiculous feet. NOT a good sales tactic, by the way.
My theory when paying for shoes is that if they ask if the shoes are for me, I say yes and pay the tax. If they don't ask, I don't tell. There were years of paying taxes on shoes for The Girl when I should have said who the shoes were for so I figure eventually it will even out. Reasonable, or fraud?
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
All will soon be safely gathered in.
The first day of Autumn has arrived, and with it the reminder that it is time to clear out the garden plot. We've been eating as the summer progressed, but there is a lot still in the ground. Time to get everything out and stored for winter.
The garden this year had some high points and low points. And some mystery points! One mystery would be carrots vs. parsnips. In my mind, they're almost the same thing. No, they're not but still. The carrots sprouted and did very well, particularly the purple skinned ones. Some of the seed tape carrots didn't grow but that would be due to the birds that apparently enjoy eating seed tape! The parsnips on the other hand...nothing. Not one single parsnip germinated. Bad seed? Seed eaten by birds and gophers? I've no idea. I just don't see how two such similar vegetables should have two vastly different results.
The peas were great. Almost the best in the whole garden, I think. However...we stopped for a handful on afternoon on the way out of town and that was the night of the hail storm. The poles, wires, strings and peas were pummeled into the ground. Not a single eatable pea remained. Ah well, at least we got that handful!
Potatoes and Onions have been so fantastic that you'd almost think I knew what I was doing. I planted more than a hundred onions. Some were so tiny and frail I had no hope for them, but I'd paid for them so in they went. I had bought a flat of what looked like grass, but it was fifty some tiny little onion plants.
Turns out nearly every single one grew! The bigger ones, which I planted as instructed with a minimum of half the bulb above ground were enormous. There was one that The Boy could hold and have his fingertips touch but I couldn't. It was like a swollen soft ball. We ate it and I was amazed to find it was sweet and juicy. I'd assumed that given its size it would be tasteless and woody.
The potatoes...we've been eating them for weeks on end. I still have about 25 plants left to pull. Thanks heavens I have friends that want some, because The Boy is not much of a potato eater. I do love them myself but even so there are more than I can deal with.
All in all a good year. 'Cept for the pepper plants, which did in the end bloom. In the first week of September! Ah well, they looked nice whilst they were growing. Deep dark green little shrubs. Maybe next year we'll have an early spring. Or at least not the super late spring we had this year!
The garden this year had some high points and low points. And some mystery points! One mystery would be carrots vs. parsnips. In my mind, they're almost the same thing. No, they're not but still. The carrots sprouted and did very well, particularly the purple skinned ones. Some of the seed tape carrots didn't grow but that would be due to the birds that apparently enjoy eating seed tape! The parsnips on the other hand...nothing. Not one single parsnip germinated. Bad seed? Seed eaten by birds and gophers? I've no idea. I just don't see how two such similar vegetables should have two vastly different results.
The peas were great. Almost the best in the whole garden, I think. However...we stopped for a handful on afternoon on the way out of town and that was the night of the hail storm. The poles, wires, strings and peas were pummeled into the ground. Not a single eatable pea remained. Ah well, at least we got that handful!
Potatoes and Onions have been so fantastic that you'd almost think I knew what I was doing. I planted more than a hundred onions. Some were so tiny and frail I had no hope for them, but I'd paid for them so in they went. I had bought a flat of what looked like grass, but it was fifty some tiny little onion plants.
Turns out nearly every single one grew! The bigger ones, which I planted as instructed with a minimum of half the bulb above ground were enormous. There was one that The Boy could hold and have his fingertips touch but I couldn't. It was like a swollen soft ball. We ate it and I was amazed to find it was sweet and juicy. I'd assumed that given its size it would be tasteless and woody.
The potatoes...we've been eating them for weeks on end. I still have about 25 plants left to pull. Thanks heavens I have friends that want some, because The Boy is not much of a potato eater. I do love them myself but even so there are more than I can deal with.
All in all a good year. 'Cept for the pepper plants, which did in the end bloom. In the first week of September! Ah well, they looked nice whilst they were growing. Deep dark green little shrubs. Maybe next year we'll have an early spring. Or at least not the super late spring we had this year!
When Push comes to lying.
Years ago - at least ten - I went on a blind date that did not go well. I knew quite quickly that there would be not even be a second date let alone a possible romance. When the date was over, I politely declined a further meeting. The guy asked why not, so I said the usual you're a nice guy, just not the guy for me.
He wanted to know why not. I didn't want to say. He really really wanted to know. He had an email address (the one I use when I don't want to be stalked. Hmmm. I never want to be stalked. Let's say the one I use with strangers) and he kept asking and asking. His issue was his weight; he had lost a lot, and was still quite heavy. He seemed to want me to come out and say it was a weight thing. The problem, for me, was that it had nothing to do with his weight. It had everything to do with his being as dumb as a sackful of hammers.
So what to do? He clearly had self esteem issues relating to his weight. Telling him it was his weight would confirm his certainty that one can't be loved if you're heavy. Telling him he was just, well, stupid would give him an entire new thing to worry about. What to do? In the end I gave him no answer other than he wasn't the one for me, and I blocked his email. No doubt he's decided on his own that it was the weight issue but at least I didn't cave and tell him the real problem.
I am in a similar situation. I've been out on a date or two with someone that isn't someone I'm romantically interested in. I will tell him that there is just no chemistry for me, which is totally true. If he,like the first guy, pushes for an answer I have a bit of a problem.
The thing is, the real reason for no chemistry sounds totally made up. So made up that I can see someone thiniking "jeez. Why not just say I'm not interested". But it is the truth. I could, on the other hand, make something up. Something that sounds completely reasonable.
So what to do? Should he keep asking, that is, which he may not. Tell the sounds like the most made up lie ever truth, or the lie that appears far more truthful?
He wanted to know why not. I didn't want to say. He really really wanted to know. He had an email address (the one I use when I don't want to be stalked. Hmmm. I never want to be stalked. Let's say the one I use with strangers) and he kept asking and asking. His issue was his weight; he had lost a lot, and was still quite heavy. He seemed to want me to come out and say it was a weight thing. The problem, for me, was that it had nothing to do with his weight. It had everything to do with his being as dumb as a sackful of hammers.
So what to do? He clearly had self esteem issues relating to his weight. Telling him it was his weight would confirm his certainty that one can't be loved if you're heavy. Telling him he was just, well, stupid would give him an entire new thing to worry about. What to do? In the end I gave him no answer other than he wasn't the one for me, and I blocked his email. No doubt he's decided on his own that it was the weight issue but at least I didn't cave and tell him the real problem.
I am in a similar situation. I've been out on a date or two with someone that isn't someone I'm romantically interested in. I will tell him that there is just no chemistry for me, which is totally true. If he,like the first guy, pushes for an answer I have a bit of a problem.
The thing is, the real reason for no chemistry sounds totally made up. So made up that I can see someone thiniking "jeez. Why not just say I'm not interested". But it is the truth. I could, on the other hand, make something up. Something that sounds completely reasonable.
So what to do? Should he keep asking, that is, which he may not. Tell the sounds like the most made up lie ever truth, or the lie that appears far more truthful?
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Will be interested in finding new authors until I'm dead and gone.
I have found new authors the way may people do: someone recommends something, the book next to the one I’m getting looks interesting or Fantastic Fiction suggests authors similar to ones I’m looking up. Sometimes just the title interests me, sometimes the cover art. And sometimes I want to read books from a certain era (deeply into 1920’s mysteries right now) and I check out Historical Mystery Homepage.
I may, however, have found a new author in a way I’d never thought of. My dad and I read a lot of the same books. I don’t know how long it might have taken me to find how much I enjoyed Louis L’amour if he hadn’t been reading them first. And I think it’s likely that I’ve introduced him to an author or two as well. Hooray for friends and family!
This is where things get tricky. A friend recommended the novel Relic, by Lincoln Child and Douglas Preston. I ended up reading three books in that series before I lost interest. During a visit to dad, he mentioned a new author he was enjoying. He told me the name, of course, and a brief synopsis of the series. I thought I had filed it away to a safe spot in my brain, but sadly such was not the case.
Here, in its entirety, is all I could think to ask him: What was that book series you were telling me about, where our main detective sort of lives off the grid? Preston something? Lincoln something?
You can see where I got the names, yes? Despite this terribly unspecific request, it was enough! (Cracked is right, our brains do get better, not worse over time!) The author I was looking for was Lee Child. I guess I remembered L. Child, confused that with Lincoln Child and even managed to throw Preston in there. So I put in a request at the library for the first book in the Lee Child series, The Killing Floor.
At which point we get another twist. When I requested it online, I went by title. And ended up with a completely different book than the one I was asking for. Same title, different author. But it looks interesting, and it is part of a long series so hopefully they’re not awful. Can you even get more than a couple published if they’re terrible? I’m going to read it, since it’s already in transit to my local library. And if I like the book…a new series to get into discovered in a heretofore unheard of manner.
I may, however, have found a new author in a way I’d never thought of. My dad and I read a lot of the same books. I don’t know how long it might have taken me to find how much I enjoyed Louis L’amour if he hadn’t been reading them first. And I think it’s likely that I’ve introduced him to an author or two as well. Hooray for friends and family!
This is where things get tricky. A friend recommended the novel Relic, by Lincoln Child and Douglas Preston. I ended up reading three books in that series before I lost interest. During a visit to dad, he mentioned a new author he was enjoying. He told me the name, of course, and a brief synopsis of the series. I thought I had filed it away to a safe spot in my brain, but sadly such was not the case.
Here, in its entirety, is all I could think to ask him: What was that book series you were telling me about, where our main detective sort of lives off the grid? Preston something? Lincoln something?
You can see where I got the names, yes? Despite this terribly unspecific request, it was enough! (Cracked is right, our brains do get better, not worse over time!) The author I was looking for was Lee Child. I guess I remembered L. Child, confused that with Lincoln Child and even managed to throw Preston in there. So I put in a request at the library for the first book in the Lee Child series, The Killing Floor.
At which point we get another twist. When I requested it online, I went by title. And ended up with a completely different book than the one I was asking for. Same title, different author. But it looks interesting, and it is part of a long series so hopefully they’re not awful. Can you even get more than a couple published if they’re terrible? I’m going to read it, since it’s already in transit to my local library. And if I like the book…a new series to get into discovered in a heretofore unheard of manner.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
As I post this, it is almost ten where Blogfodder is. Evening Al!
Small stuff can make you sad. Small stuff can also make you very happy. I remember buying a coconut for just over a dollar to go with Hawaiian night*. The kids were happier with that than if I’d spent seventy five on a video game. Truly, they were fascinated; we talked about it all through supper, we used a veggie peeler to peel great wide strips of coconut off the shell and they each took a half to school the next day. It was awesome.
I am ridiculously pleased with…a clock. Yes, you read that correctly, a clock. At first I thought perhaps I was unbalanced, but no, because everyone loves this clock! I brought it to work so I could have more time playing with it. Or looking at it. Ok, yes, playing with. And I do. Way too much the first day but still, every day. And other people stop by and play with it too so although I may perhaps still be crazy I have company.
So now, of course, you need to learn about this clock. Oooh, I’ll try for a picture.
Anyway, here we go: it’s a rectangle, with a map of the world, 24 lines for time, and fifteen holes. There is also…a little silver plane! You can move it to any of those holes and plug it in and when you do the clock at the top reads my time on the left and what they call world time on the right, which is the time for wherever you put the plane, and major cities in that zone.
We’ve even learned some interesting things with this clock. For instance yes, you can make it a 12 or 24 hour clock - big deal. But you can also press a button for daylight savings time. AND you can change it between northern hemisphere and southern hemisphere DST. I didn’t even know that there was such a thing. Logical, of course, once I thought about it but still I hadn’t known that until now.
We also learned about the weird bend around Spain. A co-worker is going there next month (his brother and family live there). We assumed, looking at the lines, that Madrid time would be the same as London time. But it wasn’t! They had it as the same time for Amsterdam, Frankfurt, Paris, Zurich and Rome. I was so sad – my beautiful clock was flawed. But was it? WAS IT?
I Googled it. And my lovely little clock was not flawed. Portugal goes to London, but there is a scoopy curve thing and yes, Madrid is with the others. Ha!
*When the kids were small I found it difficult as a single parent (as do non single parents as do people without kids etc) to get meals to go beyond the very limited things we just always did. I felt so tired all the time and it seemed like such a chore to think of things they would like. Which isn’t fair to them; they were and are the most adventurous kids I’ve ever known when it comes to trying new food. But still, there we sat with the usual dishes. So I came up with World Wide Wednesdays.
Every Thursday whoever’s turn it was would come up with a country or cuisine that interested them. On Friday or Saturday I’d find recipes from that country that I’d be willing to make and that I thought had a fair chance of working out with kids. I’d print maybe a dozen recipes. The chosen one, so to speak, would choose the recipe for supper on the following Wednesday. They would also be assistant chef and (horrors) they had to learn something about that country to tell us at supper. This worked really well and lasted about three years. There are dishes that failed, dishes that worked and dishes so delicious we still use them today. Maddy chose Hawaii. We had a honey chicken, a salad with nuts and the aforementioned coconut. It was a good time.
I am ridiculously pleased with…a clock. Yes, you read that correctly, a clock. At first I thought perhaps I was unbalanced, but no, because everyone loves this clock! I brought it to work so I could have more time playing with it. Or looking at it. Ok, yes, playing with. And I do. Way too much the first day but still, every day. And other people stop by and play with it too so although I may perhaps still be crazy I have company.
So now, of course, you need to learn about this clock. Oooh, I’ll try for a picture.
Anyway, here we go: it’s a rectangle, with a map of the world, 24 lines for time, and fifteen holes. There is also…a little silver plane! You can move it to any of those holes and plug it in and when you do the clock at the top reads my time on the left and what they call world time on the right, which is the time for wherever you put the plane, and major cities in that zone.
We’ve even learned some interesting things with this clock. For instance yes, you can make it a 12 or 24 hour clock - big deal. But you can also press a button for daylight savings time. AND you can change it between northern hemisphere and southern hemisphere DST. I didn’t even know that there was such a thing. Logical, of course, once I thought about it but still I hadn’t known that until now.
We also learned about the weird bend around Spain. A co-worker is going there next month (his brother and family live there). We assumed, looking at the lines, that Madrid time would be the same as London time. But it wasn’t! They had it as the same time for Amsterdam, Frankfurt, Paris, Zurich and Rome. I was so sad – my beautiful clock was flawed. But was it? WAS IT?
I Googled it. And my lovely little clock was not flawed. Portugal goes to London, but there is a scoopy curve thing and yes, Madrid is with the others. Ha!
*When the kids were small I found it difficult as a single parent (as do non single parents as do people without kids etc) to get meals to go beyond the very limited things we just always did. I felt so tired all the time and it seemed like such a chore to think of things they would like. Which isn’t fair to them; they were and are the most adventurous kids I’ve ever known when it comes to trying new food. But still, there we sat with the usual dishes. So I came up with World Wide Wednesdays.
Every Thursday whoever’s turn it was would come up with a country or cuisine that interested them. On Friday or Saturday I’d find recipes from that country that I’d be willing to make and that I thought had a fair chance of working out with kids. I’d print maybe a dozen recipes. The chosen one, so to speak, would choose the recipe for supper on the following Wednesday. They would also be assistant chef and (horrors) they had to learn something about that country to tell us at supper. This worked really well and lasted about three years. There are dishes that failed, dishes that worked and dishes so delicious we still use them today. Maddy chose Hawaii. We had a honey chicken, a salad with nuts and the aforementioned coconut. It was a good time.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Really, it's ok. I'm not offended
Sometimes with poor customer service I - like everyone else on the planet - want to rant. Or sigh, if it was merely poor-ish service instead of terrible service. Sometimes, though, its just funny. When for whatever reasons your feelings aren't hurt but they could have been and then the person is mortified and really you're ok with it. Especially, in this case, if it gives you something to blog about when you've been kind of skimpy on blog posts. (Are you looking at me? Well, fair enough because I am).
Incident # 1: I went to pick up coffee for the office. Just four of us. Two lattes no fat no foam and two coconut breezers. One regular and one - mine - with sugar free syrup and no whipped cream. Is this because I am particularly virtuous? Nope, it's because I don't particularly like whipped cream. It was hard enough losing weight, why gain it back with something I don't even like? If I gain the weight back it sure better be over something better than whipping cream!
By the time I got to the coffee place I decided I didn't want anything at all. Too hot a day for a hot drink, not hot enough for a cold one. Fussy fussy fussy! When the barista brought me the drinks (we get these same drinks fairly often) she said "I filled the coconut breezer to the top with extra whipping cream, since it isn't for the person who apparently won't eat whipped cream and always wants sugar-free syrup. You go ahead and enjoy that".
I just started laughing. Didn't mean to, because of course then you have to explain and she would feel terrible. And really, she's very nice. And I have no need to hurt people. Well, mostly I have no need but let's not discuss that ok? So I told her and yes, she was mortified. I explained that it took me a year to lose 50+ pounds and that I really didn't want to gain it back by eating whipped cream that I don't even like. She understood and, I think, felt a bit better.
The second incident was today, and was funny only because the woman realized partway through how awful what she was saying sounded and then she made it worse and then she just trailed off and apologized. Poor woman, I'm sure she'll have an embarrassing story to tell tonight!
So, background: I am worried about turning into a TV watching, curler wearing, muu muu sporting, cigarrette smoking, liquour swilling couch potato. I have told The Boy to intervene if that appears to be happening.
To prevent such a thing from happening I am going to start -or restart, actually - Scottish Country Dancing. Just about free, so that's good. And I am taking another round of Belly Dancing. Finally, I am going to go to a few plays at the Globe theatre. (Originally typed that as "Glove Theatre" which probably exists, but not here!). I phoned today to place the order for a few tickets. Here's how it went, more or less:
Very Good. Your total, tax included is xxyy dollars.
What? But the brochure here says x dollars, plus tax
That's right, the package is x dollars plus y for the tax. xxyy dollars.
But that doesn't make sense - that total is twice as much as it should be.
Oh! Are you not buying for two people?
No, just me.
Oh, well, it's just that people always buy in pairs, or groups, I just never thought, I mean, it's the kind of thing that people do together... I'm just not used to, that is, not that you have to have someone, of course, I mean sorry, not that you don't have someone one, just that.....
At which point she just stopped talking. Which was a good call.
Incident # 1: I went to pick up coffee for the office. Just four of us. Two lattes no fat no foam and two coconut breezers. One regular and one - mine - with sugar free syrup and no whipped cream. Is this because I am particularly virtuous? Nope, it's because I don't particularly like whipped cream. It was hard enough losing weight, why gain it back with something I don't even like? If I gain the weight back it sure better be over something better than whipping cream!
By the time I got to the coffee place I decided I didn't want anything at all. Too hot a day for a hot drink, not hot enough for a cold one. Fussy fussy fussy! When the barista brought me the drinks (we get these same drinks fairly often) she said "I filled the coconut breezer to the top with extra whipping cream, since it isn't for the person who apparently won't eat whipped cream and always wants sugar-free syrup. You go ahead and enjoy that".
I just started laughing. Didn't mean to, because of course then you have to explain and she would feel terrible. And really, she's very nice. And I have no need to hurt people. Well, mostly I have no need but let's not discuss that ok? So I told her and yes, she was mortified. I explained that it took me a year to lose 50+ pounds and that I really didn't want to gain it back by eating whipped cream that I don't even like. She understood and, I think, felt a bit better.
The second incident was today, and was funny only because the woman realized partway through how awful what she was saying sounded and then she made it worse and then she just trailed off and apologized. Poor woman, I'm sure she'll have an embarrassing story to tell tonight!
So, background: I am worried about turning into a TV watching, curler wearing, muu muu sporting, cigarrette smoking, liquour swilling couch potato. I have told The Boy to intervene if that appears to be happening.
To prevent such a thing from happening I am going to start -or restart, actually - Scottish Country Dancing. Just about free, so that's good. And I am taking another round of Belly Dancing. Finally, I am going to go to a few plays at the Globe theatre. (Originally typed that as "Glove Theatre" which probably exists, but not here!). I phoned today to place the order for a few tickets. Here's how it went, more or less:
Very Good. Your total, tax included is xxyy dollars.
What? But the brochure here says x dollars, plus tax
That's right, the package is x dollars plus y for the tax. xxyy dollars.
But that doesn't make sense - that total is twice as much as it should be.
Oh! Are you not buying for two people?
No, just me.
Oh, well, it's just that people always buy in pairs, or groups, I just never thought, I mean, it's the kind of thing that people do together... I'm just not used to, that is, not that you have to have someone, of course, I mean sorry, not that you don't have someone one, just that.....
At which point she just stopped talking. Which was a good call.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Sorry cheese dude. Sort of.
There is a story – anything from funny to quite funny depending on the mood I’m in when I tell it – that I’ve told a number of times. My son finds it particularly funny, so he sometimes asks that I retell it. So I do. Indeed, I did last night, to MayB. I may never tell the story again. Or more than once, because I am about to tell it here:
I went to the fromagerie. Not the cheese section of a regular grocery store, but an actual cheese store. Wandering around looking at all the cheese I wish I could afford (both money wise and waist wise!) I saw several slabs of “Saganaki Cheese”.
Hmmm. Wonder what kind of cheese that is, given that saganaki is the name of the recipe not the cheese. It’s most likely to be Kefalotyri, Kasseri, Kevalograviera or maybe Halloumi. Or any other number of cheese possibilities. So I went and found the cheese guy at the store. And was a sad back and forth-ing of “what kind of cheese is this” “Saganaki” “no, that’s the recipe, it could be any kind of cheese, so what kind is it?” “Saganaki” “but really that’s like labeling cheese in a cheese shop lasagna cheese. I want to know what kind of cheese it is, not what it’s for”. “SAGANAKI”. So I left it there.
I just thought that if you work in a cheese store you should know your cheeses! Now, however, I hang my head in shame. I…I am wrong. Not that he was right! Don’t worry on that score, he was still wrong. It’s just that I was wrong too.
As it turns out that saganaki is the vessel it is cooked in. The little two handled (usually) cast iron pan. It’s an appetizer making thing. Cheese saganaki happens to be the most popular. Also popular is shrimp saganaki, mussel saganaki even (yeah!) scallop saganaki. So not only is it not a type of cheese, it isn’t even a specific recipe; it’s a cooking pot.
I went to the fromagerie. Not the cheese section of a regular grocery store, but an actual cheese store. Wandering around looking at all the cheese I wish I could afford (both money wise and waist wise!) I saw several slabs of “Saganaki Cheese”.
Hmmm. Wonder what kind of cheese that is, given that saganaki is the name of the recipe not the cheese. It’s most likely to be Kefalotyri, Kasseri, Kevalograviera or maybe Halloumi. Or any other number of cheese possibilities. So I went and found the cheese guy at the store. And was a sad back and forth-ing of “what kind of cheese is this” “Saganaki” “no, that’s the recipe, it could be any kind of cheese, so what kind is it?” “Saganaki” “but really that’s like labeling cheese in a cheese shop lasagna cheese. I want to know what kind of cheese it is, not what it’s for”. “SAGANAKI”. So I left it there.
I just thought that if you work in a cheese store you should know your cheeses! Now, however, I hang my head in shame. I…I am wrong. Not that he was right! Don’t worry on that score, he was still wrong. It’s just that I was wrong too.
As it turns out that saganaki is the vessel it is cooked in. The little two handled (usually) cast iron pan. It’s an appetizer making thing. Cheese saganaki happens to be the most popular. Also popular is shrimp saganaki, mussel saganaki even (yeah!) scallop saganaki. So not only is it not a type of cheese, it isn’t even a specific recipe; it’s a cooking pot.
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