to buy an electric kettle that breaks and has to be thrown away, or
to use a less-efficient stovetop kettle?
to buy an electric kettle that breaks and has to be thrown away, or
to use a less-efficient stovetop kettle?
I keep clicking on the "Play Store" icon though I don't want anything from there. I guess my brain sees the word "Play" and thinks "Fun" so tells me to click it.
Woke too early this morning. Gave up on trying to go back to sleep. Boiled water. Got out the blue bowl to make Cream of Wheat. (Blue, vs. white, is important for detecting the difference between the Cream of Wheat and the bowl.)
We buy the store-brand generic cream of wheat when it's available, but when it's not we get the original brand. Generic comes in a bag. Today it was the box, thus the brand-name version. On which I expected to see the black chef in the puffy hat but of course he's gone.
The Cream of Wheat man and the Quaker Oats man who reminded me of Captain Kangaroo were the companions of my childhood breakfasts. Along with my dad, who cooked the cereal and served it to me.
As an adult, now, I understand the historical reasons why the black chef was problematic--though if he were introduced now, when chefs are idolized, wouldn't he just be a Betty Crocker type of personification of the brand? It seems less trustworthy now that no one is on the box to vouch for it.
It's amazing how many of the sites telling you how to make acorns edible first give complex instructions involving hammers or advising caution in the use of serrated knives. Such clever and resourceful people, apparently ignorant of the existence of a nutcracker--in spite of the very famous eponymous ballet that is well-publicized every Christmas season.
coda: I found that tannin leached out effectively from the broken acorns that I threw into the still-warm leftover pasta water. Was it the starch? The salt?
Ground some up with flax seeds in the blender and added it to bread-machine bread this morning. Though honestly, I don't think I had enough acorn to affect the taste.
Spurred on by success, I have extracted perhaps a dozen more acorns into pieces. They are now soaking in cold water, awaiting the next time we cook pasta.
I did make acorn flour a few years ago, enough to add a quarter cup at a time to whole-wheat bread. It did add a nice flavor to the bread.
Different years yield different quantities of acorns. This fall is a mega-acorn season. We joked about needing to wear hard hats while walking to avoid being bonked.
Acorns are all over the place.
Starting to dwindle with approaching winter though.
One last carrot remained in the fridge. I sliced it into long ovals then looked for humus. No dice. So, poured some yogurt into a ramekin and added:
Our house is a hand-me-down sinkhole; our hand-me-downs go back decades, and swirl around in bags and the back of closets. This vintage sweater turned up on one of my daughters a few months ago. It looks like the cerulean sweater Andy wore in "The Devil Wears Prada".
I'd previously assumed the famous* cerulean sweater monologue was just a well-written illustration of how fashion works. Now I wonder if this hand-me-down is evidence of an actual Cerulean episode in fashion history.
Even though the label says 'Lands End' not 'Casual Corner'.
*Just search for "cerulean sweater devil wears Prada" and you get results like
https://youtu.be/vL-KQij0I8I?si=TEd8rpEaxvvubRFA
I had less luck finding whether the monologue was based on any actual example.