EY's Rants and Raves

Pesto....that simple paste of fresh basil, garlic, parmesan cheese and olive oil. It transforms pasta, potatoes, cauliflower tomatoes and numerous other things into something de-lish. Heck, I'll bet you could take a piece of wood, put pesto on it and it would be tasty. You'd even get a significant amount of insoluble fiber. Splinters too...ANYWAY, pesto is good and if you can take a little tedious prep, incredibly easy to make.

Step 1: Grow some basil. Not as hard as you'd really think. Go to your local home improvement store, buy a pot, dirt (unless you're one of those lucky people who have dirt in your yard) and a basil plant. Heck, buy two. If you're buying dirt, what else will you do with the rest of it? Exactly. I wish I'd taken a picture of the large bushy basil before I denuded it. It was very hearty and beautiful. And if basil can get "hearty and beautiful" under my care, you can surely do better. I'm not much of a plant person. I'm not much for tending in general. If you can't fend for yourself, you won't do well around me, but basil is quite forgiving and easy. Really.

Step 2: Gather the non-basil ingredients. I used olive oil out of the pourer we have hanging around, garlic, parmesan, parsley, yogurt, pine nuts. I know parsley and yogurt aren't typical ingredients, but hear me out. Basil, like apples, bananas and iron, oxidizes when exposed to oxygen and turns dark brownish black. I could load up the pesto with olive oil, but I prefer to add in some extra chlorophyll by adding parsley and I'll section out some of the pesto to add in to the yogurt. This will add creaminess, protein and tang. It's an experiment, I admit, but there's plenty more time this summer to grow basil. Apologies for the picture. The other one was worse....promise.


Step 3: Begin prep--green things. Pesto needs a lot of prep. After cutting, you should probably wash the basil. It grows up out of the dirt, but you never know what kind of life form it could be supporting. After a bath, the basil relaxes like so....


Step 3A: Still prepping the green things. After a nice rinse, you pluck the leaves off the stem. some herbs have tender, forgiving stems (like our friend parsley), but basil does not. The basil stems are so tough, I didn't even put them down the garbage disposal. They went outside to become compost. Not "formal" compost, I'm not that organized. More a casual "I threw them outside and they'll turn into organic matter where they land" kind of compost. And after you pick off the basil, give it a good spin. It doesn't have to be dry dry, but shouldn't be soaking wet.


Step 3B: Our friend, parsley. There's not a lot to say about parsley in the pesto-making process. It's a supporting character. I hope it will stabilize the color and not add much flavor. This particular parsley was incredibly dirty, but there are only so many exciting ways of capturing greens as they wash. However, it's our friend, so it gets a photo op.


Step 4: Start on everything else. First off is the parmesan cheese. I could use really incredible Parmesano Reggiano for this, but I think it gets lost here. You neeed parm, but whatever your local store sells will be OK. You don't have to be fussy with it. Just cut it into chunks your food processor or blender can handle.


Step 5: Garlic. Mr. EY actually grew the garlic you see here. I admit, I was not sure it would work or make decent garlic, but it did.


Step 6: Shredding the parm. There's no need to clean out the bowl of the processor, just dump in the chunks


and hit "ON". Like this


Step 7: Go nuts. Pine nuts, specifically. Pine nuts come from a specific kind of pine tree and are mighty tasty. They're even tastier toasted. Some advocate toasting them in a pan on the stove, but on a quarter sheet pan under the broiler (a long way from the broiler) is easier for me.

Step 8: Invite the herbs to the party. Pesto takes a lot of basil. Really. A lot. See? If you can't see the line in the bowl, that's 16 cups. I packed it down a bit, but didn't get carried away, so it's not precisely 16 cups, but it's fairly close. Pesto is best made my feel, smell and taste. I could give you amounts on some ingredients, but the only reason I can measure this one is that I knew I needed my biggest bowl. Which happens to have measurements inside. Otherwise, I'd just say I use a LOT of basil.


Step 9: Everybody in the pool. Yes, now that you've picked, washed, spun, toasted and processed a little bit, it's time to process a lot. Put as much of everything as you can into your handy food processor, put the lid on and go.


When you're done, it will look all green and delicious


No, that's not all. All of what I had wouldn't fit in the processor at one time. So here's Round 2


And then the batches mix together


You see how the bottom part isn't so green? That's because that round had more parm. I'll mix it together and it will be fine. Really.

I know there are no pictures of the olive oil. It's not that I don't think olive oil is important. Far from it. About the only things I don't put olive oil in are coffee, cookies and cheesecake. However, I'm not a steady picture taker (Not that you'd have noticed. Oh, you didn't? Aren't you sweet?). And I'm a klutz. Me trying to take a picture while I slowly drizzle olive oil into the running food processor is asking for disaster. When you make pesto, put "enough" in. How much is "enough"? You'll know. Trust yourself. I prefer to have slightly dry pesto because you can always add in liquid. If you make an oily delicious mess, you're kinda stuck with it. You can always do more basil, pine nuts, garlic and parm, but it's safer to go easy on the oil.

Here is where I've taken out some of the pesto to add in yogurt. If I ate fish, this would be perfect to serve over a nice piece of, well, whatever fish goes with pesto. What I think will probably happen to this pesto and yogurt is that it will adorn sauteed zucchini or spiral pasta. If someone would fix chicken, this would be good with it.


Step 10: We're DONE! Yes, now the pesto is ready for action. What kind of action? Hot pasta action is a classic. Hot baby potatoes are another. I'll be taking some of the non-yogurted pesto on some baby potatoes to a cookout on Friday. Chicken, if you're brave enough to touch it. Good sliced tomatoes would love a spoon of pesto. Grilled bread schmeared with pesto will send most people to swooning. Just about anything savory (e.g. not sweet) would be 1000% better with some pesto.


So get out there and make some pesto!

Labels: food porn

Because the new Batman movie is coming out, MSN has a nice collection of Christian Bale pictures. Oh my. He is one hot man. He has a raw kind of sensuality that never gets old, no matter what he's in or how many times I've seen it. "American Psycho", as warped as that is, is one of my favorite movies. Lots of nearly naked CB in incredibly good shape. "The Prestige" had little to no undressed CB, but it was still an incredible movie. And to top it off, he's Welsh. When it comes to accents, any place in the British Isles is a-OK with me.

Bale's attractiveness reminds me of that of a friend. Not exactly conventionally handsome, but compelling. Granted, they each have dark brown hair and green-brown eyes, but they also have a quality that's hard to identify. What makes another person "compelling"? Physical characteristics, sure, but it's also personality as well. That certain something....that I well appreciate.

It's after one pm, after all. However, it's Saturday and a rainy gray one at that. So what's wrong with hair up in a barrette, glasses on, wearing a robe? I'm sure one person who regularly reads this will say "Absolutely nothing, girl!" There is at least one reader who will be slightly horrified at me "wasting" this much of a day (hey, I just got up an hour and a half ago...that's really all I've "wasted"....lol). The house is cleaner than it's been in months, thanks to the efforts of two eager college girls. Laundry is being worked on. It's not like I'm being a total slug.

Yawn....it's Saturday. I'm pretty happy.

I've been participating in our town's "locally grown" movement. Coming from a farm family, supporting local growers is important to me, as is having tasty things to eat in season. I missed this week's pickup, but I still managed to get some locally grown blackberries. Blackberries whose growth consumed not one iota of chemicals, petroleum or other shunned things. These are definitely not Genetically Modified.

Now, on the downside, they're not really big. They haven't been artifically irrigated, fertilized and have had to struggle on their own to survive. They're precarious to pick and I'm still not sure I didn't get a tick somewhere. I did try to be choosy when I picked them and tried to only get ones that were really ripe.....

Werewolves of London-Warren Zevon
I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)-The Proclaimers
Love Rollercoaster-Red Hot Chili Peppers
London Bridge-Fergie
SexyBack-Justin Timberlake
Get Ur Freak On-Missy Elliott
I Touch Myself-The Divynls
Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover-Sophie B Hawkins
As I Lay Me Down-Sophie B Hawkins
Criminal-Fiona Apple
Groove Is In the Heart-DeeLite
Glamourous-Fergie
Freeze-Frame-J. Geils Band
Love Stinks-J. Geils Band
She Blinded Me With Science-Thomas Dolby
You Could Be Mine-GNR
100 Years-5 for Fighting
Lullaby-The Cure
Hot Hot Hot!!!-The Cure

A friend got a Jaegermeister machine recently and I promised to "donate" a bottle to the cause. This one holds 3, pours an ice-cold shot and will blend in well to its new environs. I surprised myself when I just volunteered to run out and contribute.

However, I think fondly of my past brushes with Jaeger, painful though they were at the time. It's like thinking of a long-ago ex. You remember the fun you had, but not the torrid breakup. Yep, I'm like that with Jaeger.

Although I am generally reluctant to A.) get up early (before 10:30 am) on Saturday mornings and B.) go outside, one summer activity compels me to do both: picking fruit at a local orchard. There is a lovely family-run orchard just south of town and I've been a customer for quite a few years. When I heard that blackberries were (FINALLY!) in season, I had to set the alarm and make it out there.

By the time I got up, got legs shaved (it was bad....seriously), got my coffee and got out there, I was pretty sure I'd be "late". I was right. Despite the fact that the peaches were well picked-over, I like being out in the trees. It wasn't too hot today and there was a nice breeze. I asked about tomatoes and got a worried face from the folks at the stand. "We've been completely run over today....you can go out and see if there's anything left to pick, but it might not be worth your time." So I skipped the tomatoes.

What I would NOT skip, no matter what the faces looked like were the blackberries. I love blackberries and I love picking them. The wild blackberries in our yard are just barely getting ripe, so I had reasonable expectations for theirs. When I went to the area where the blackberries are, I again got a pained look when I announced my intent to pick. Undeterred, I went to the far patch and started on the last row. Generally a good strategy. Not today. I "inspected" the row and didn't get a single berry. So I went to the much closer patch and started in. After about 40 minutes, I had not quite a half quart. Satisfied that this would be about all I'd get, I went back to the stand. There were MANY large bright red berries, which means blackberries later this week. There were also a lot of green berries and even still some blooms. All good signs.

I learned about blackberry picking from my Nana when I was quite small. Nana had blackberries. I hesitate to say "she had a blackberry bush because, well, it was almost as tall as a minivan and "bush" doesn't quite describe it. It was a big bramble-y mess. The fruit from it was divine. More than her tomatoes (which I still dream about), more than the tiny lima beans she grew just for she and I (and which I shall never see the likes of again), I loved Nana's blackberries. The birds and I would get a lot of the outside fruit, but Nana knew how to pick.

The trick is to get low and look up into the brambles, under the leaves. Not to hurriedly be looking for the "prize berry", but to just let your eyes relax and look at the plant. Then you'll see one deep in. You can't just reach in and get those unless your skin is made from teflon and cast iron. Even tame varieties of blackberries can have vicious thorns. Once you spot "your berry", you look to see what is in your way. Using the leaves, you carefully pull branches up, apart and over to expose it. When it's mostly safe, you carefully reach in and gently pick it. Both those are critical. "Carefully" protects your skin from the inevitable thorns and gently keeps you from knocking the berry onto the ground instead of getting it. All the while, you keep gazing. Not searching, but gazing. After all, if your arm is IN the thorns, why not get one more. Getting too many in one hand puts you in danger of crushing what you have. The more ripe they are, the easier that happens.

Mom never liked Nana and I diving into the blackberries. If Nana was going to brave the thorns and show me how to do this, the least I could do is follow along. And after all, blackberries are worth the time, trouble and pain. So today, using what I know, I picked blackberries. Hot bright sun (you'll miss ripe berries if you're wearing shades), nice breeze, well-organized blackberry patch. No, I didn't pick many for the time I spent, but it was well worth the effort. Besides, I got to scope the field, talk to the orchard owner and have a plan to come back later. EARLIER, but later this week....

I was admonished earlier this evening by a friend because I wasn't watching Game 6 between the Lakers and Celtics. "You're the sports nut" he pointed out. Well, yes, between he and I, I am. I was reluctant to watch because while I am a sports fan, I am also a superstitious one. I'd hate for Boston to lose just because I was watching. (Yes, I know it doesn't work exactly like that, but still, why take a chance?) Seems I needn't have worried. I watched the final minute and was glad to see Boston keep a nearly 40 point lead.

131-92......Ho.Lee.Cow.......

I'm stubborn. I wish I could say that this characteristic comes in handy when I'm faced with a moral dilemma or when I'm fighting for truth and justice. More often, it comes at my own expense. I can be ridiculously stubborn about really stupid things. And the more I see how what I'm railing against makes SENSE, the more I seem to hold fast to my evermore worthless position.

I keep wondering when I'm going to grow out of this, but it doesn't seem to be going away......

Yes, I know it's in the 90's here in Arkansas, but until a week from tomorrow, it's still not officially summer yet. I've made some improvements to the home PC and decided that since I have USB ports I can get to (Thanks to my snazzy Belkin hub), the first USB device I should attach is my MyBook and back up all my crap. Most of what I'm backing up are pictures and music. Two of the more resource-intense things you could move from an old USB port to a sleek backup device. So this has given me some time in my office.

In the first house Mr. EY and I lived in, we shared an office. Now, we each have our own. His was an absolute mess until a few weeks ago. Now, everything is organized and neat. I was envious, but not inspired to action. Today, however, I attacked the mess of stuff on my desk. Turns out I didn't need any of it. I'm recycling lots of paper and re-purposing a notebook from a leadership conference of long ago.

The rest of my office still "looks like a closet threw up" as a friend once described the previous, shared office. It's daunting, to say the least, but I might be brave enough to work on it tomorrow. Maybe. For now, however, the desk is enough.

I like Google. I wouldn't say it's my favorite spot on the net, but it's quite helpful. I like Google reader, it helps me keep track of some really cool food blogs. I'm way too forgetful on my own to check Tony Bourdain for the odd times he posts, Harold McGee's maybe monthly ideas, Michael Ruhlman's wonderful thoughts on the basics of food and cooking. I think they're making a mistake about not putting a link to their privacy policy on their front page, especially since California law pretty much says you have to. Seven letters is not "clutter", but the brou-haha has been fun to watch for a legal wannabe like me.

I like the random times that Google changes their logo to reflect something they think is interesting. I've never given much thought to which holidays they choose, but after reading an article on Slate today, apparently, it's a big deal for some people. I had no idea that Google hadn't "celebrated" Memorial Day. Unless sleeping late and goofing around the house all day is "celebrating", I didn't either. In fact, it's safe to say that I didn't celebrate Groundhog Day, Armed Forces Day, Flag Day and won't do much to celebrate Labor Day or Columbus Day either. It's my choice to spend my non-working days however I like. Seeing as how Google is a private enterprise, I think it's fairly well their choice to celebrate the holidays they choose. If you don't like it, don't use their search engine, don't buy their stock. Pretty simple.

Often, it IS hard to be a woman. Not the "giving all your love to just one man bit", more the being.a.woman part. I've been on The Pill for a frakking long time. Every year, about this time, I wonder about other options. I had a good chat with a new provider recently and she gave me lots of information to ponder. So far, all the options don't look great.

Depo--Office visits for the shot and the shot itself won't be covered by what laughingly passes for "health insurance". Could turn me into a raving maniac, although I admit it works well for a friend.

Implanon--the "new" Norplant. Not read horrible things about it, but side effects of irregular cycles, headaches and weight gain are really all I need to know. I love being like clockwork, I have plenty of headaches as it is and I'm in no hurry to lose what little weight the braces have helped me get rid of.

Mirena--an IUD. They don't know how it works. That alone was enough to make me concerned. I don't have to know how a car works to drive it, but I do need to know that someone at the dealership DOES. Then I started reading about it. Yeah. Between the possibility of it inching upward and getting LOST, the pain some women experience in having it, how it can throw your body out of whack, that you have to check to make sure it's there (seriously, I'm not into spelunking), I think it's not for me.

Essure--non-surgical sterilization. I had such high hopes for this one. Coils of metal are put in your fallopian tubes. Your body, not being happy with this, forms scar tissue over them, completely blocking the path. You get tested to make sure all paths are no longer navigable and you're SET. Well, almost. Lots of reports that the process itself is very painful, hard to recover from and while expulsion (how'd you like a spring floating arond free in YOUR body) is rare, it does happen. And you may not know it happened until you're pregnant . And like every other option I have, not covered and the most expensive of the lot. Permanent, if it "takes", suuuure.

While women have more options now than ever before and yes, I know that not every woman experiences the same side effects, or the same intensity of effects, there aren't a lot of GOOD options. Maybe I should just try eBay. "For Sale: NIB reproductive system (female). Bid must include safe removal at seller's convenience and chosen location."

# posted by EY @ 10:04 PM 0 comments

When I was in Jr. High and everyone had braces, I felt a little left out not having them. My Mom would remind me that on the whole, my teeth are quite good, except for one on the bottom. She insisted that braces were painful and not fun. Oh, I understand that now.

After a month and a half of adult braces, however, that one tooth on the bottom is almost in line with the others. I still have to floss pretty vigorously between it and its neighbors, but it's getting amazingly into place. I've been paying more attention to teeth cleanliness and less to teeth alignment that I almost missed it moving. It has a little more to go, then it will be right where it should be.

Now if my two front teeth will move to a less beaver-like spot.....

(with apologies to Adam Sandler, but it was too fitting of a title to not rip off) I love sleep. I crave it, in fact. And when I’m asleep, all is right with the world. When that wonderful state is disturbed, however….

I’m not a “heavy” sleeper. I used to think I was. Turns out darkening a room to the point of it being a cave and shutting the door does wonders for helping you sleep.

The dog gets regularly irritated by wild creatures in the yard at night. I’m trying to learn to live with that. Bringing her in during the winter is a big plus for her, as the garage is typically nicer than outside. The summer, however is a different story. The garage is hot and nearly airless in the summer. I hesitate to do that, no matter how much she might think she wants in.

After living with me for years and years, you’d think Mr. EY would learn to NOT wake me up unless there’s some dire emergency. I can appreciate (a little) that he wants to be sweet and affectionate. Last week I nearly jumped out of bed when he kissed my shoulder as I was asleep. Last night the same thing happened and there are only 2 words to describe how I felt: fightin’ mad. Normally, I am a very tolerant, loving person. But not when you wake me up. When I woke up and it was still *really* dark, I was enraged. Literally, in.a.rage. Someone was speaking to me (speech before I'm ready is also an issue). I knew that this wouldn’t stop unless I responded and what I had in mind to say would be completely inappropriate. So I mumbled “I love you too, dear goodnight”. And when I say “mumbled”, I was so inarticulate that even I didn’t understand what came out of my mouth. I’m quite sure that wouldn’t have happened if I’d said something less nice. Apparently, from earlier episodes of this kind, I have the ability to clearly say “Shut the f**k up and leave me alone” while fast asleep. Mr. EY really doesn't deserve such abuse.

If you ever see me sleeping, Dear Reader and you have the urge to wake me up, think back on the Toyota commercial where the guy hopes that the badgers will stay asleep. I react similarly when awakened.

When gas is nearly $4 a gallon, do people sit with their engines running while waiting to fill up? You get ZERO miles per gallon when you're sitting still with the engine going. Burning gas sitting still is incredibly wasteful. Most hybrids take those opportunities to kill their engines.

Obviously, I'll never ask anyone why they sit near the pump and burn. Now, it's hot outside and I kinda buy that, but today, the wind was blowing hard enough to feel good.

I'm curious enough to have always had a knack for research. Persistence probably counts for most of that, but I'm lucky enough at it to keep trying. So why did I not immediately Google my long lost former friend with her husband's name? Many counties put divorce records online. Turns out, her university solved my query for me in a "Get to Know..." feature in a newsletter. It's from 2 years ago and mentions her husband of 7 years. If she was married and in the South in 2006 then she's still married 2 years later. I don't venture to guess how she convinced him that he wouldn't die of lack of culture in their smallish town.

In any case, I don't have to. In a way, I'm relieved. I no longer have to worry about contacting her, as any missive would be unwanted and unresponded to. As she herself quotes "Ours is not to reason why". I can't reason my way into why I was dismissed. What I can do is release myself from worrying about her.

Many people don't get why women all over the US (and indeed, the world) love Sex and the City. After all, how does a married semi-rural girl relate to 4 single (for the most part) New York women? It's quite easy: friendship. What I (and I think I can speak for lots of chicks 'round the world) want that they have is each other. We want to know that that kind of relationship exists.

I'm not a huge fan of impossibly high heels. I have no desire to have a nooner with the Express Delivery guy in my office. I don't want to do the gardener because my spouse can't get enough wind in his sails. I don't want to be partner in a law firm. But what I would like are three friends, nay soulmates even, to share my exploits with. Is Carrie flighty as all get out? Does she dress like a crack whore? Uh, yeah. But her friends love her as she is. Does Samantha "put herself out there" in ways that make the other girls uncomfortable? Sometimes. But each has learned a little something from her openness. Is Charlotte as naive as they come? Yeah a lot of the time she is. But her optimism about love can be so hopeful and fresh. You just want to close your eyes and jump in like she would. Is Miranda cynical and jaded? Yes. In many ways, she's the most difficult character for me. She's Charlotte's foil, who would tell her all about the risks of just jumping in. Aren't we all afraid sometimes?

There is an episode in Season 4 where the girls decide that they are each other's soulmates (The Agony and the 'Ex'-tacy"). Whatever relationships they may have with men, they will always be there for each other. I have several very good girlfriends, yet I've only ever had that "soulmate thing" once. And then it was gone. To have had that one was great. To know that I had three, who had seen me through bad dates, disastrous hairstyles and worse outfits for nearly 20 years.....? I can't hardly fathom it. Yet the idea is so appealing. How wonderful it would be to have that. And that, is the secret to SATC. Not the clothes, not the shoes, not the men.

Saw "Sex and the City" today. I'd watched all the episodes as they aired and thoroughly enjoyed the show. I have a few seasons on DVD and regularly catch syndicated episodes. I've always hoped that Carrie and Big (or as we now know his name is John James Preston) would end up together. Their timing never seemed quite right until the last episiode.

There were lots of funny bits, lots of camaraderie and just what I would have expected. It was more than a longer episode, but all the elements of the show that I loved were included. As per my usual softie self, I cried through most of the movie. There would be something sad or moving, then something funny. So most of the time, I was laughing while I was crying.

I don't think there will be a sequel. The ending was neat, needed nothing else and I feel that the story is fine where it is. Goodbye girls. I'll miss you!