myschyf | Mar. 7th, 2008

When I was a kid, my Nan and I spent a lot of time together, in her kitchen. She had a wonderful kitchen...it was frickin' *HUGE*, and not just 'cause I was smaller then. She also had a small tv, and we'd watch lots of cooking shows and The New Yankee Workshop and The Woodwright's Shop (so often that I can't separate the two and always have to go look up which had the power tools and which had the "traditional" tools) together. Julia Child and the Great Chefs series were my gateway shows to foodieism.

The first recipe I remember copying down was from Great Chefs. I was eleven or so. I was in my bedroom, watching the show on PBS (it must have been a Sunday afternoon...I often wasn't home on Saturdays and it wasn't shown during the week, at least when I was home) and they said they were going to do an apple tart. I grabbed my notebook and wrote down everything I could. I really wish I still had that recipe, for history's sake. I wouldn't be able to *read* it, as my "good" handwriting was pretty bad back then, and my on-the-fly writing was terrible. But it'd be nice to pull out and go "Look. This is where it started".

I don't need the recipe though. I know it by heart. And the next time I was at my Nan & Boomps, I made the tart. It came out beautifully. I think it was one of the things I took out of the oven and carried around to show people. I remember doing that with my first pecan pie...I was so surprised that the pecans had actually risen though the delicious goo.

The very first recipe I remember making was tuna casserole with potato chips on top, from the Mini Page. I think if I add my highbrow stuff together with my lowbrow, my brows end up firmly in the middle. Yup...I'm used to that. :) (Though, I do hope my actual brows don't travel. Besides looking goofy, that'd probably itch.)

I'm pretty sure Sam's gateways are Alton's shows, Iron Chef America (which is Alton, but) and America's Test Kitchen. I love watching them with her. She absorbs so much ("I'm ya sponge!" Ten points to the first person to name the movie the quote's from. Extra points if you name the character too). I love sharing this ~~obsession~~ interest with her.

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What brought all that on? This interview with Alton.

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Tell me about Groovy Girl dolls. Sammy got one (or two...can't remember) with her kids meal via Burger King a while ago and would like some full-sized ones. But they're a bit difficult to find, unless I feel like paying seven dollars shipping on an eleven dollar item (I don't think I've *Ever* felt like that). Am I coming in at the end of a fad?

I can get at least one doll and a chair via Amazon, but I'd like her to have at least two of the basic dolls. And I found some nice lots on E-bay, but they either blasted out of my price range or I forgot to check back before the auction's end. I know Target's supposed to have them in the stores, but I don't know that I'll get to one before her birthday at the end of the month.

Are the dolls sturdy and as cool as they look? Should I let it go for now and see about getting her some for Yulemas or as a general surprise sometime after this? Or am I just looking in the wrong place?

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So, South Pasadena, California is banning cussing for the first week of March till the end of time. Or they forget.

Because banning something makes it go away. And hateful words are all considered cussing.

Oh wait. No, and no. You can say truly, *truly* terrible things that will lurk in the back of someone's head till they day they die without uttering one "bad" word. And if you don't know how to be utterly insulting while being perfectly civil, you need to read more. Start with Dorothy Parker and Oscar Wilde.

This would probably make me cuss more. Not out of contrariness as much as I dislike knowing I'm not allowed to do something I used to. When I was pregnant with Sam, I *wanted* a beer. Which isn't that odd till you consider that I don't drink beer much. I don't drink alcohol much in the first place, and I prefer hard cider to beer (I'm one of the people who can always taste the alcohol and don't like it). But knowing that I could not let myself have one (I know that having one isn't the end of the world, but I couldn't. Maybe I would have, if I hadn't had a number of ciders and a couple beers the weekend before I realized I was pregnant) made me just want it. And trotting out the seven dirty words is far easier (Not to mention the fifty-three million variations. 'Cause I'm not only well read, I'm cussingly inventive)...I've never had a beer/cider without realizing it.

It also brings up the interesting question of what *is* cussing. Ass? Hell? What about darn? It isn't exactly cussing, but does the association with damn disallow it? Who gets to choose the words we can't say?

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Ooooh. Dave McKean finished the cover for Neil's Graveyard Book.

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