Skip to main content

Back to Pundamentals

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

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

From Government Regulations to Chicken

So, I really wanted tonight's post to be whippy and biting and highly intelligent...and I've even got the perfect topic - government wine regulations: Europe vs. the US (subtitle: European Governments Seem to Trust Their Citizens A Whole Lot More The US, Otherwise Why Don't French, et al., Wine Labels Have the Surgeon General's "Pregnant Women Should Not Drink This/This Beverage Impairs Your Brain" Warning). But, I realized that to begin a post like that, I should probably know the answer to the question, yes?  Why do American wine labels include the warning, when, I don't know, isn't just common sense?  A quick search of this very query lands me at Wikipedia, which is good enough for a rude overview, but nothing that indicates why it's a law in the first place. Hence, more reading is required.  I hope to get to it soon.  It's almost August, two-thirds of this year is nearly gone, and sometimes I feel as I am moving very, very quickly along...
6 comments
Read more

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...
1 comment
Read more

And Now, A Literacy Moment...

Brought to you by the sponsors of Mark Twain Literacy Consortium...because after all, "a man who chooses not to read is no better than one who can't." First day back to school/work after ten+ days off.  Urgh.  You all know how that is, right?  Meh. So let's talk about books today, then.  On these long breaks, I never read as much as I think I will...and I'm not sure why that is.  Well, okay, I'm fairly sure I know why, and it includes doing something in the kitchen, working on something for the Winery or school, playing those damn free 1-hour demo Hidden Object games at www.bigfishgames.com, doing logic puzzles, or watching The Walking Dead or Downton Abbey or Sherlock. Ugh.  How did you guys do that?  Get me to confess all that, eh? Anyway, I read: Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman.  I have read at least three other books by this author, which, for me, is the only criteria needed to be placed on my Favorite Authors List....
Post a Comment
Read more