...and more stuff

So, like my last post oh so long ago, I tried to make October into another "get rid of something every day" month.

And then someone broke into our house, stealing very little of monetary value but a lot of stuff of sentimental value. I'm mostly grateful that our dog was alright, because I don't know if he would have barked a lot or run away and hid, and a mean person could have seriously injured him (or worse).

In one way, the joke is on the thief (who I assume is male, since statistically that is more likely), because he will not get much from the pawn shop for what he stole. On the other hand, the jewelry that was stolen was important to me.

Some things were gifts (from people who have passed away), some were worn for special occasions (like my wedding), and some were souvenirs from trips and random places.

The property damage involved with getting into our house (two sets of double doors and two windows were damaged) far, far exceeded the amount stolen. We don't feel as secure in our house as we once did, and that eliminates one of the few things suburbs have in their favor.

All of that leads to the conclusion...we have to decide how we want to get out of Texas and how to part with some of our 'stuff'. This time next year we want to be back in a real city, not one that is still in the middle of suburban sprawl and with a "NIMBY" approach to change.

I'm calling the theft my "stuff to get rid of" for last week, and doubling down on paring down.

Grad school applications will be started this week!

Where did all this stuff come from?

When did I go from being a poor college student to someone with so much stuff? Over here at the squirrels' nest (ha), we own far too many things.

Somewhere along the way, after living separately for a while, moving in together, and getting married, we have gathered far more stuff than two people (and a dog) need. I also blame a couple of office-funded moves, when our stuff was packed quickly by strangers. Strangers will put everything you own into boxes, including your garbage (bleh). When you pack your things, whether all by your self or with the help of friends, you have to pause and touch and evaluate everything. One item at a time. And the longer you pack, the more likely you are to decide that things can be trashed, recycled, or donated.

So now we are here in San Antonio, with a house that is probably twice as big as we need and a yard that is 10 times bigger than we need. We know that this house is only a temporary stop for us. I like to move to new places, and see new things. I do not like living in the suburbs, where days and weeks seem to consist of an endless and anonymous stream of going to work and running errands.

I miss walking around my neighborhood and running into people I know. I miss meeting new people while walking around the neighborhood. I know that eventually we are going to move back to a smaller apartment or house in a proper city.

But then where will I put all of my stuff?

I spent April on a personal challenge -- every day of the month I added something to my "Donate" box. I didn't count anything that was technically trash or recycling, although I did clear out some old papers and cheap-o knick-knacks. At first it was easy. I just grabbed clothes that didn't really fit well or books that I knew I wouldn't read again. By the end of the month, though, I found myself tired of figuring out which things needed to go. After the "low-hanging fruit", I really had to think about the process. Since I usually tried to find my Thing To Get Rid Of (that's what I called it in my head) before I left for work in the morning, I was frequently running late.

Now, halfway through May, I think I might do it again next month. The main purpose is to make life easier while we live here (less clutter! easier to clean!). My secondary purpose is to make moving easier next time (fewer boxes! more organized!). I guess I should also admit that I'd be lying if I said that that tackling the personal challenge didn't motivate me as well.

Gah! How did I accumulate so much stuff?

The Resourceful Squirrel Hibernates for Winter

...apparently.

So not much has happened since last post. As a quick summary: Got a job, quit a job, got a new job. Taking some classes (English and Anthropology).

Ok, now that I am up to date, I have to say that I am loving anthropology class. I like the interaction of culture with society and politics and our physical bodies. It's like all the classes using control systems logic that I took for engineering and science can be seen in a new light. But now, I want to put our behavior and culture into the control system, too, creating a hugely complex system that still doesn't really have "an answer."

I have so many little fact-nuggets in my brain from different projects that I've worked on that seem to feed together and support the fact that how we are formed affects how we can function and how we function (individually or together) affects how we are formed. All in crazy-complex unexpected ways.

Grits, risotto, and polenta

While I think that people generally consider grits, risotto, and polenta to be incredibly different foods, I find them comfortably similar.

I know that the feelings and images associated with these three foods are quite different.

Grits will always be inherently Southern. To me, grits are made from hominy, and usually served as a breakfast food, although that may have more to do with Waffle House than how people actually eat grits at home. In any case, they are best served with bacon or sausage.

Risotto seems to have a bit of a mystique. Growing up in the Tennessee, I never heard of risotto until I was in college, and then it seemed to be more or less an indulgent European food, made with cream or cheese, broth, wine...it seemed awfully complicated. Arborio rice was not an ingredient I had ever heard of before. Rice was rice to me. It came as brown and white. You can see why I put off learning to make risotto for many years, although I still ate it at restaurants on occasion.

Polenta is made from ground cornmeal, similar to grits. I first had polenta at camp, served sliced and fried, with stew over the top. It was delicious. It was a few years later that I learned this is apparently not the standard method of serving polenta. I have yet to make home-made polenta that will stand up to being sliced and fried, but I have made excellent creamy polenta several times.

So what makes them seem the same in my mind? Cooking them from scratch. All three of them are basic, starchy ingredients that you cook until they essentially turn into a creamy goo. All three dishes work as a side dish or a main dish, depending on what you add. None of them require a recipe, in my opinion. I think all three dishes are best when made with general guidelines, from whatever ingredients you already have around the house (assuming you keep some veggies fresh or frozen). All three suffice as a medium when I crave good, expensive cheese. They are all easier to make in a thick-bottomed pan, so they don't burn on the bottom. Most importantly, they all require a bit of patience as you stand at the stove and stir as the liquid is absorbed.

I'm including a basic list of instructions for grits. I recommend this NPR article for information about risotto and Alton Brown's recipe for polenta.

Basic Grits recipe:
(Some) hominy grits
Water (2-4 times as much as you have grits)
Butter (a tablespoon or two)
Salt (to taste)

Cheese, if desired
Other spices, as you like

Put grits and about 2/3 the water in a thick-bottomed pot or pan. Heat until slightly boiling, then reduce heat to simmer, so that every once in a while a bubble comes up. Too much heat and you can splatter grits all over the stove while simultaneously permanently adhering them to the bottom of your pot. Cook, stirring almost constantly, as grits absorb the liquid. Add more liquid when you see that the grits are starting to thicken from absorbing water. I use this method, adding water as necessary, because it seems to work better for me than pre-measuring water and grits, like the package describes. Premeasuring can fail because you can lose too much water to steam, ending up with grits that look "done" because all the water is gone, but the grits themselves are not cooked enough. Premeasuring can also fail if you don't lose enough water to steam, in which case you end up with grits soup. In my case, premeasuring usually fails due to a combination of poor counting skills and the addition of other ingredients, such as mushrooms, greens, etc.

In my opinion, the best way to tell if grits are done is to take a bite (careful, it is hot!). They should be creamy, with no "gritty" parts that crunch or stick between your teeth when you bite down. You should still be able to distinguish the separate kernels, just a bit. Once the grits are cooked, you can decide how thick or soupy you want them. Just add more water or simmer some water off. Add the butter and cheese towards the end, stir thoroughly.

Flavors unite!

I recently went into a bookstore looking for a technical book to have as a programming reference for work. I entered on a mission - and walked out with three books about food. I never even made it to the computer books area. On the bright side, I am pretty sure that I have used the food books more than I would have used the programming reference book.

For anyone who prefers cooking with a strategy or along general guidelines instead of using a recipe and following the directions verbatim, I absolutely recommend The Flavor Bible. I have read through large parts of it, and I always feel inspired to make something (or at least eat something) when I flip through it.

One suggestion that I followed from the book was simply a wine and cheese pairing. I wondered, more out of curiosity than a concern with propriety, which type of cheese "should" go with the Riesling wine I planned on drinking. The Flavor Bible recommended "cheese, esp. blue, soft, triple creme." I had none of those. But it recommended apples, and I remembered that when I was reading about cheeses earlier (because I'm a nerd with too much time, apparently), apples are supposed to go well with Gouda. So I grabbed some Gouda out of the fridge, cut it into little cubes, and it went wonderfully with the Riesling. In this case, I think that having read about several ingredients I already owned kept their potentials fresh in my mind.

The second suggestion I would not have thought of on my own involved kale. I love kale. It is simple, healthy, and it appears early and late in the growing season in New England, which helps extend the amount of time I can reasonably eat yummy, fresh, local veggies. I picked up some kale from Allendale Farm last weekend, and I needed to finish eating it. So I planned on sauteing it in some garlic and herb butter I made late last summer. While the kale was sauteing, I added some balsamic vinegar and flipped open The Flavor Bible to see what else I already owned that I could put with the kale.

"Ah-ha!" I thought, when I read the recommendation for Parmesan or cheddar cheese. I had some aged cheddar cheese in the fridge. When the kale was done, I grated some of the cheddar over the top, and it was Delicious, with a capital D. It was magically better than the list of ingredients would suggest. (I would like to point out that under the "Cheese, cheddar" entry, they list bacon...which would have been awesome crumbled on top).

I think this book is great as a reference and as a source of inspiration. This book is not for you if you are afraid to cook without a recipe. This book is for people who are willing to go with the flow while cooking and eat the results of their experiments. It will probably help you avoid some failures and push you to try new, delicious combinations.

Apparently I am no good at this blogging thing...

Spring is here in New England. Flowers are starting to bloom (mostly tulips, pansies, daffodils, and crocuses, so far). There are a few lovely warm days in between the cool, rainy ones. On the nice days I absolutely do not want to be inside. Instead, I make any excuse to stay outside, whether it is gardening, running errands, or reading on the porch.

I have gone for a few short bike rides around my area of Boston, including one to Allendale Farm, where I bought some cute little pansies to plant next to my porch. Yes, I rode my bike to a farm and bought plants. It was great, although I noticed they didn't really have bike parking (I locked up to of their fence posts).

Knitting has been slow, mostly because class work has cut into my hobby time. I am glad the semester is almost over. It will be nice to be able to go home, make a decent dinner, and relax while knitting in front of the TV.

Winter, hurry up and be over!

This weekend I used my bike to run an errand or two around the neighborhood for the first time this calendar year. Yes, it was a little chilly (in the upper 30s), but for the first time in a while the snow was melted and the roads were dry.

While I like to ride my bike, I am a bit of a chicken when it comes to riding in the winter in Boston. I do not care for the cold at all, and I find it a bit scary to ride in the dark when there aren't many people out and about. And winter here always seems cold and/or dark.

But Sunday I grabbed one of my bicycles, found my helmet and some decent gloves, and rode to the store for milk and juice. I'll be honest, it was less than a mile and a half round-trip. It was long enough to remind me of a few important things, though. First, the importance of keeping some tissues handy. I'm not sure why, but when it is cold outside, my nose starts to run like crazy as soon as I stop on the bike. Second, I forgot how much more often you need to blink when riding in the cold! Third, and most important, I remembered why I like riding my bike so much. It was great to feel the effort I put into riding and see the resulting increase in speed. That is something that you just don't get at the gym.

I enjoy seeing the neighborhood and the people out and about when I ride my bike. I notice things that I just don't see when I am driving my car or walking down the same streets. When I'm driving, I'm going just fast enough that I don't notice the small things, like another condo up for sale or someone's new flower box. When I'm walking down the sidewalk, I'm so close to the buildings that I don't feel I really take it all in- plus it feels a bit creepy to really look around when you are moving that slow. Boston is definitely more of a "Keep your head down and just keep walking" city than a "Wave, smile, and nod at your neighbors" city.

So, winter, finish up your evil ways! Spring, hurry up so I can ride my bike around town!