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Say hey, good to be meating you again. It's been a minute, hasn't it?

I have just had a very terrible feeling...that I've come up with a very clever title for today's blog post, but that I'm going to seriously underexecute it in the body. Like some recent American Olympians or similar.

Slice it anyway you like, maybe it's paranoia, maybe I should just get on with it.

Life has slowed down here recently. I'd been adjuncting, and now that the term has ended, I get a six-month break...as there are no classes for me to teach. This is all good, because it's almost...

FOOD TRUCK SEASON!

I've been working towards recertification as an ACF Certified Culinarian, and that means all kinds of hours of professional development. So, I've been reading and studying things like avocados, onions, lamb, food allergies, and cheese. And while all this bookwork seems tedious, I'm actually glad of it because it's putting me back in the grilled cheese mindset. A Stilton state of mind.

I recently sold my commercial-use, very-seldom-used meat slicer on Facebook marketplace. It was heavy, and very difficult to clean and sharpen. Then, just this week, I bought another, cheaper, easier-to-clean-and-maintain meat slicer.

Subsequently, after putting the thing together and reading the directions, I sliced just about everything I could possibly slice, excepting the cat and my shoes. It worked beautifully and uniformly. It brings order out of chaos, light out of dark, sense out of confusion, justice out of the depths...

Erm. Yes. Anyway. I really, really like my new slicer. It was a cinchy to clean. However, it's for "home use", meaning I'll probably burn it out quick-like if I try using it for food truck slicing. Maybe I just need to do slicing projects in small increments.

Even if I do just keep this appliance for around the house, here's what's exciting: I'm not buying any more pre-sliced cheese. I'm not buying any more pre-sliced sandwich meats. I'm going to buy cheese by the brick and slice it myself. I'm going to buy raw turkey breasts, season and roast it myself, and slice it myself.

TO THE THICKNESSES I WANT, PEOPLE!

I think I kinda get how King Arthur felt whenever he held Excalibur.

WE BOTH WIELD TOOLS FOR SLICING!

Hey, pound of turkey and block of Pepper Jack - you ready for your date with destiny?

It slice sooooo nice.

Comments

(She) Blinded Me With...Citrus

Excuse my attempt at tying today's blog entry with an iconic Thomas Dolby song. What a terrible pun-ishment. Har har har. So, we're on the backside of Winter Vacation/Christmas Break/Holiday Hiatus here. The kids return to school tomorrow, the freshman and I start back to our respective colleges next Monday. The clock is ticking and suddenly, I am whipped into frenzy to Get Work Done. I suspect this phenomenon happens to many, many educators who try to avoid that panic-stricken night before they go back to work. And believe me when I say, I had the deepest, most earnest of intentions to write lesson plans, write quizzes, and generally prepare for the restart of my classes next week. Like, really. And then...I was distracted by...citrus. This happened. Okay, so....the lemons on the far right are no big deal. They're available year-round. But Meyer lemons...MEYER...I only find around here in the winter. I first read about them i...

Girl Friends Are Great!

About a year and a half-ish ago, I stumbled into a parent organization called Choir Boosters. Just about every learning institution in America has one (or several). If there's a sport or activity, there are parents who want to be involved because their kid's in it. My daughter, who was a freshman at the time, joined her high school's choir. Actually, she was asked to join the elite Chamber Choir, and for the first time in my parenting history, I had a child in an organization with a booster club I wanted to join. My oldest son, who is two years older, participates in minimal activities, and not any with booster clubs, so no chances there. Until now... A very pleasant side benefit of doing this "stuff for my kids" is that I've grown close with a few of the other women, so much so that when our big fundraiser was done in December, we wanted to keep getting together. Thus, the Mad Moms (our big fundraiser is called a Madrigal Dinner..."Mad...

In Which I Suspect I Have Latent Tendencies...Much Like The Hulk, Or Similar

I find in most normally functioning families, the members have a distinguishing role or legacy or skill of some kind. Like, he's the smart one. Or, he's the religious one. Or...she's the glue that helps the fam together. Or, she's the savvy one, so she's the Power of Attorney. In my family, that system went something like this: My dad was The Dad. Cantankerous, crotchety, and especially tight with daughters' curfew times. Also, not a fan of driving in Big Cities. My mom was the long-suffering, patient, reserved one. My brother was the baby, the one who got away with murder, the namesake, and also, Frosty Hoarder. Me? My legacy? The Ruiner of Remote Controls. No lie. Although I've repressed the memories, my parents claim I destroyed at least two remotes in my tenure as Child Under The Roof. Remote #1: milk spillage; Remote #2: applesauce spillage. So, now you see why my younger brother was the favorite. Anyway, t...

To Thine Own Self, Be Food

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