The Apocalypse will include Meyer Lemon Curd and Whoopie Pies

There's a joke around here that we all need to work on our domestic (aka radical homemaking, though I have some questions about that term/movement) skills because the apocalypse is coming. You know, the apocalypse that comes when the oligarchy that controls the US has finished plundering it, and the economy collapses.

It's only sort of a joke, really. Depends on who you ask.

Re: meyer lemon curd and whoopie pies. We could have a polytunnel full of citrus trees in the apocalypse. So it's totally practical to prepare for that, right? Still no accounting for whoopie pies, though.

Do I even remember last night anymore?

Not in *that* way. Just in an, "oh, i'm exhausted and still have reading to do and yet, oh, look, here are these meyer lemons sitting on the counter let's make a lemon tart!" kind of way. Reading, and a meyer lemon tart, and a chat with a friend: all of these things were (partially) accomplished. Still more reading to do today...

It's been a while since I worked on the Chapter. Have been focusing on grading, prepping, and reading instead. But I'm reading Andrew Pickering (The Mangle of Practice) now for my grad seminar, and I am struck by the focus on "practice" and how much it lines up with my own sense of the use of print/script/speech in the early modern world. A sense of what each medium was capable of, what it should do, only emerged in practice, and was subject to constant renegotiation.

Much like tart crusts. Mine was breaking up last night when I rolled it out the first time. So I pounded it back together and rolled it out again. I'm afraid it will be a bit tough (waiting till tonight to cut into the tart). Oh, well. There are two more lemons on the counter.

You Will Know Us By Our Baking

Freaks (1932) and Cordon Rose Banana Cake with Caramel Icing (The Cake Bible).

Debating whether or not to show scenes from Freaks in a class I'm teaching on Thursday. We're doing a unit on the history of monsters, and we're kicking off with some talk of monsters as divine signs in the early modern (that was today). This segues into a discussion of circus freaks via an Arnold Davidson article, "The Horror of Monsters." The film is fascinating, but what bits to show? And what will it add to the article?

Really interesting to me is the depiction of the freaks as sympathetic characters--the emotional center of the movie, the heroes. But not just the simplistic heroes--they're complex characters who are by turns protective, deluded, loving, angry, jealous, bitter, vengeful. Within their own world, they are in no way objects of horror/fascination. Which was maybe the appeal of "sideshow" life for some folks? You had to perform, but you lived with people accepted you. One of the talking heads in the documentary on the DVD also made an interesting suggestion: all of show business is about selling what makes you different. Sideshow performers are no different from beautiful actresses are no different from jazz musicians. Which I'm not sure I agree with. Does it mean that none of show business is exploitative or that all of it is?

Pie in the Morning

Not so bad for a Wednesday morning: Shaker Lemon Pie and a little research.

I am working now on the chapter of the manuscript on face to face conversation: how did scientists create knowledge through conversation? It's a sort of odd project, because I'm looking for signs of speech in writing. And I'm also trying to do it while avoiding Walter Ong's "oral mentality," which I think is a little nutty (though in an interesting way--it's fun to teach). I think there's something to say about communication practices in the early modern world, and how people used (and wrote about) speech vs. writing vs. printing; but I'm not so sure you can infer a mentality from that. We'll see, though.

So I'm combing through natural history and antiquarian books from the 16th and 17th century, looking for what they say about speech, particularly how they talk about information that came to them through conversations, rather than books or letters. Do they trust it? Who do they talk to? What do they write about the people they talked to? Do they name them? Do they not? Do they describe the settings of their conversations? The next step is journals, diaries, and letters--I gotta say, I am looking forward to all 9 volumes of Pepys...

Sunday in the Smokies

Lemon Meringue Pie

Deep Creek

Running toddler

Waterfalls

Knitknitknit

...and now, time to grade papers

Cheese Log: Mold-ripened Goat's Cheese

Ingredients:

1/2 gallon goats milk (Oak Knoll variety, about 9 days out from sell-by date)

1 T of (1 drop rennet diluted in 5 T water)

1 packet direct-set chevre starter culture

Heated milk to 80 +/- 2 degrees. Let cool to 76 +/- 2. Added rennet and culture. Let sit overnight (10 pm to 1 pm the next day). Transferred curds to lined molds. Draining now. Appear to be mostly drained, but will leave out 1 more day to see. Then planning to salt the cheeses, spray on the p. candidum, and see what happens.

I am enjoying getting into cheese that could kill you if you f it up. Though only if you screw it up really badly.

Update 12 am 2/1/10. Cheese still draining in molds. Was going to unmold today, but it turns out the p. candidum has to rehydrate for 16 hours. So we will get that moving tomorrow.

Update 10 pm 2/1/10. Today around 6, I pulled the cheese out of the molds. It had pulled away from the side of the molds, but there was a sort of thin scrim layer of cheese, then air, then the mass of cheese. Odd. I think it had to do with the way I poured it into the molds--gradually adding more as what was already there drained. You can see the layers in the cheese itself. It's a rough and shaggy cheese--I don't know if I should have smoothed the outside before adding the mold; it will have to grow around the the nooks and crannies, if it grows. Anyway, it's very tasty--tangy, and with the texture of a rich chevre. I salted the cheese and let it sit for ten minutes, and then sprayed it with the rehydrated p. candidum (1 cup water, 1/8 tsp p. candidum, 1/8 tsp salt). It's now in the cheese cave at 55 degrees and ? humidity. Unfortunately, there's no way to measure the humidity. But, in order to guarantee a modest level of dampness, the cheese sits on a reed mat which sits on a damp paper towel, and the whole assemblage is covered by a small plastic tupperware. And now we just have to wait--it's a little nerve-wracking. What if no white mold forms? What if I get other molds? I don't like waiting...

2/3/10 Grr. No mold yet. Resprayed today. Changed damp paper towel yesterday, but left it today--still damp.

2/5/10 My cheese is furry! I am doing the my cheese is furry dance! It's got pristine white fuzz all over. Yay. Next time will try inoculating the milk with the p. candidum, instead of spraying it on--see if it's faster.

2/11/10. After doing some reading, I patted the mold down on one of the cylinders, and flipped it. I tore the rind a bit in lifting it (with the aid of an offset spatula) off the cheese mat). It looks like I need another system--some kind of aging tray or something; maybe wire mesh on little feet?

2/13/10. Tasting notes! I cut the cheese I had patted down horizontally into three sections; the rounds have a thin rim of pale parchment colored cream, slightly glossy and drippy; the interior is white and thick and creamy. Solid. It breaks a little like a chevre. When I first cut it, it tasted musty, cavey, sour, peppery. The pepper (similar to blue cheese) was very strong at the back of the throat; it makes my tongue prickle. That has muted since the cheese has been open to the air for a few hours, but is still there. It really lingers. The musty taste is still there, too; the sour is stronger. The rind is thin and has a little snap to the texture when you bite into it. This is good, though the pepper is rather strong, and I would like the drippy stuff to penetrate further in. I will save the second round for next weekend, though--we'll see how it develops!

New England Yankee Cookbook, How Could You Let Us Down Like That?

Though Nathan claims it's not that bad (it's just molasses custard!), the 60 minute Indian pudding is truly abysmal. It's the first New England Yankee Cookbook FAIL. (Though we have yet to try the "pork cake.")