redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
( May. 21st, 2003 10:15 am)
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21. I notice and point out small delights: violets and egrets and the way the clouds look.
redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
( May. 21st, 2003 10:15 am)
Read more... )
21. I notice and point out small delights: violets and egrets and the way the clouds look.
There are bits that now feel like foreshadowing, that weren't so when I first read it--phrases and a song, and a bit of the ending, that point to The Other Wind.

Tenar keeps asking "Why do we do what we do?" It's the difficult question here: why do people do the sort of evil that the villains of this book do, or attempt? It would be tempting to dismiss it as "the plot needs it", but people really do mistreat children for no comprehensible reason. Tenar doesn't have the "I'm in a novel" answer available, but she also refuses the easy solution of making it something that "they" do and "we" do not: she recognizes that, for all that they are incomprehensible and deliberately cruel, they are of the same kind as we are.

The book is stronger for being (re)read immediately after The Tombs of Atuan, with Tenar's experience as priestess and familiar with the dark fresh in my mind. Internal chronology puts it right after (and overlapping by a few days) The Farthest Shore, but while Arren is in this one, the book isn't about the same things. (I think: "about" is a tricky concept.)

And I have no idea how, or if, any of this will prove useful on Saturday; I don't know what the moderator has in mind for this panel.
There are bits that now feel like foreshadowing, that weren't so when I first read it--phrases and a song, and a bit of the ending, that point to The Other Wind.

Tenar keeps asking "Why do we do what we do?" It's the difficult question here: why do people do the sort of evil that the villains of this book do, or attempt? It would be tempting to dismiss it as "the plot needs it", but people really do mistreat children for no comprehensible reason. Tenar doesn't have the "I'm in a novel" answer available, but she also refuses the easy solution of making it something that "they" do and "we" do not: she recognizes that, for all that they are incomprehensible and deliberately cruel, they are of the same kind as we are.

The book is stronger for being (re)read immediately after The Tombs of Atuan, with Tenar's experience as priestess and familiar with the dark fresh in my mind. Internal chronology puts it right after (and overlapping by a few days) The Farthest Shore, but while Arren is in this one, the book isn't about the same things. (I think: "about" is a tricky concept.)

And I have no idea how, or if, any of this will prove useful on Saturday; I don't know what the moderator has in mind for this panel.
redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
( May. 21st, 2003 03:45 pm)
This is something I came up with a few weeks back, a quick-and-easy sauce for (frozen) lima beans, that ought to work for any number of not-too-strong green vegetables:

Put some yogurt cream in a bowl. Mix in ginger paste. (Yes, I know--this is mostly so I'll remember it again.) Taste as you go, until it's a suitable strength.

When the vegetables are cooked, drain them, put them in the bowl, and stir until the sauce covers the lima beans. Salt and pepper to taste.

[Edit: Thinking back, I'm fairly sure I used cream, not yogurt. Yogurt might work, but it would be different.]
redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
( May. 21st, 2003 03:45 pm)
This is something I came up with a few weeks back, a quick-and-easy sauce for (frozen) lima beans, that ought to work for any number of not-too-strong green vegetables:

Put some yogurt cream in a bowl. Mix in ginger paste. (Yes, I know--this is mostly so I'll remember it again.) Taste as you go, until it's a suitable strength.

When the vegetables are cooked, drain them, put them in the bowl, and stir until the sauce covers the lima beans. Salt and pepper to taste.

[Edit: Thinking back, I'm fairly sure I used cream, not yogurt. Yogurt might work, but it would be different.]
Paul Sorvino's recipe presumably was based on his judgment as a professional chef with a full pantry.

My version was based on what I (didn't) have on hand, and started by googling "pasta bacon cream peas". This description is inelegant, but conveys the actual order of actions and events. As described, it serves one.

Method: first, grate some pecorino romano (parmesan or another hard cheese ought to work here). Put it aside.

Mince a shallot and part of a clove of garlic. Set that aside.

Decide that it's going to be rotini rather than spaghetti because the big pasta pot is dirty. Start boiling water. [Addendum: I've now tried it with spaghetti. Rotini are better for this sauce.]

Mince 2.5 slices of bacon. Discard the bits that are all fat. Put the rest in a cold frying pan. Turn the heat on underneath it. After a minute or two, turn the heat down.

Meanwhile, the water has boiled. Put rotini in, and set timer for nine minutes.

Remove bacon to a plate covered in a clean paper towel as it reaches the golden-brown stage. If you're an expert and/or have a flat stovetop, this may happen all at once, instead of a little at a time. When all the bacon was ready, I poured off most of the fat, and turned the heat off for a couple of minutes.

Turn the heat back on under the bacon fat, and saute garlic and shallots. Pour in some cream (I used light cream because that's what I had, probably a bit over an ounce, that being what was left in the carton). Realize that you're boiling the cream, and turn the heat way down, stirring.

Throw a handful of frozen peas in with the pasta.

Add a little water to the skillet. Stir some more. Put the bacon back in the pan, stirring.

Start pouring the sauce into the bottom of a nice big bowl.

(At this point the timer goes off.) Drain pasta and peas, then add to the big bowl. Pour the rest of the sauce from the frying pan onto the pasta. Add the grated cheese.

Stir well. Serve with a glass of orange juice that you poured somewhere in the previous few minutes.

Yum.

Not only was this tasty, but it uses things that, except for the cream, we generally have on hand. And I can always get heavy cream at the shop downstairs.
Paul Sorvino's recipe presumably was based on his judgment as a professional chef with a full pantry.

My version was based on what I (didn't) have on hand, and started by googling "pasta bacon cream peas". This description is inelegant, but conveys the actual order of actions and events. As described, it serves one.

Method: first, grate some pecorino romano (parmesan or another hard cheese ought to work here). Put it aside.

Mince a shallot and part of a clove of garlic. Set that aside.

Decide that it's going to be rotini rather than spaghetti because the big pasta pot is dirty. Start boiling water. [Addendum: I've now tried it with spaghetti. Rotini are better for this sauce.]

Mince 2.5 slices of bacon. Discard the bits that are all fat. Put the rest in a cold frying pan. Turn the heat on underneath it. After a minute or two, turn the heat down.

Meanwhile, the water has boiled. Put rotini in, and set timer for nine minutes.

Remove bacon to a plate covered in a clean paper towel as it reaches the golden-brown stage. If you're an expert and/or have a flat stovetop, this may happen all at once, instead of a little at a time. When all the bacon was ready, I poured off most of the fat, and turned the heat off for a couple of minutes.

Turn the heat back on under the bacon fat, and saute garlic and shallots. Pour in some cream (I used light cream because that's what I had, probably a bit over an ounce, that being what was left in the carton). Realize that you're boiling the cream, and turn the heat way down, stirring.

Throw a handful of frozen peas in with the pasta.

Add a little water to the skillet. Stir some more. Put the bacon back in the pan, stirring.

Start pouring the sauce into the bottom of a nice big bowl.

(At this point the timer goes off.) Drain pasta and peas, then add to the big bowl. Pour the rest of the sauce from the frying pan onto the pasta. Add the grated cheese.

Stir well. Serve with a glass of orange juice that you poured somewhere in the previous few minutes.

Yum.

Not only was this tasty, but it uses things that, except for the cream, we generally have on hand. And I can always get heavy cream at the shop downstairs.
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