odd and random
Jul. 10th, 2006 05:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tylikAs some of you know, for years I avoided brown rice, despite its nutritional advantages. When I was in my teens, and really short of money, I would buy a large bag of brown rice, and another of lentils, and stash them in my closet. (If I had just a little money, I was buy cheap vegetables, usually cabbage. If I had a little more, I would buy condments.) I depended on those stores rather a lot, and couldn't look brown rice in the face for some time after.
A few years ago,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dianthus gave me a pressure cooker, and I discovered the wonders of pressure cooking brown rice. (Boiled brown rice is mushy. Pressure cooked is marvelous. And it's done in 15 minutes, which is also a major advantage.) Recently, I've been making brown rice almost exclusively. But last night, for some reason, I decided to make jasmine rice to complement a dish of green beans, asparagus, brocolli, peppers, tofu, and fresh herbs... and found myself wondering what this bland and gummy stuff in my food was. (Technically, the rice came out just fine.) I am amused. And a little dismayed. I've been getting used to most kinds of pasta seeming less and less like "real food". (I have no intention of stopping eating pasta or white rice, but they are becoming less prominent in the food I cook for myself. Still, while I've been making a point of using more whole grains, this is a little silly.)
At another strawberry from the strawberry pot today. One of the tomatoes is getting stripey, and may ripen soon, and it looks like I'll have the first zucchini in a few days. And I really should make something that uses a lot of parsley, soon.
On an unrelated note, I've been getting a bit of attention from tourists on the "Ride the Duck" amphibious tours. These tours head along boat street, often about the same time I do -- I usually pass them several times a week. I've had a few idle fantasies about brandishing my sword at them, but have mostly been amused. I mean, come on, recumbents are exciting (I think) but not exactly that unusual. Perhaps these people come from places where people don't ride bicycles? What a depressing thought.
Last week, on my way to the barge, I overheard the tour guide addressing the group "--and her nickname is Rosie the Riveter!" Intrigued, I glanced over to see what he was referring to, only to find everyone on the bus staring at... me. Now, I only glanced, I was afterall zipping along the trail, so maybe there was something else so nicknamed. Um. The recumbent does display the calves of doom to their best advantage, I guess.
A few years ago,
dianthus gave me a pressure cooker, and I discovered the wonders of pressure cooking brown rice. (Boiled brown rice is mushy. Pressure cooked is marvelous. And it's done in 15 minutes, which is also a major advantage.) Recently, I've been making brown rice almost exclusively. But last night, for some reason, I decided to make jasmine rice to complement a dish of green beans, asparagus, brocolli, peppers, tofu, and fresh herbs... and found myself wondering what this bland and gummy stuff in my food was. (Technically, the rice came out just fine.) I am amused. And a little dismayed. I've been getting used to most kinds of pasta seeming less and less like "real food". (I have no intention of stopping eating pasta or white rice, but they are becoming less prominent in the food I cook for myself. Still, while I've been making a point of using more whole grains, this is a little silly.) At another strawberry from the strawberry pot today. One of the tomatoes is getting stripey, and may ripen soon, and it looks like I'll have the first zucchini in a few days. And I really should make something that uses a lot of parsley, soon.
On an unrelated note, I've been getting a bit of attention from tourists on the "Ride the Duck" amphibious tours. These tours head along boat street, often about the same time I do -- I usually pass them several times a week. I've had a few idle fantasies about brandishing my sword at them, but have mostly been amused. I mean, come on, recumbents are exciting (I think) but not exactly that unusual. Perhaps these people come from places where people don't ride bicycles? What a depressing thought.
Last week, on my way to the barge, I overheard the tour guide addressing the group "--and her nickname is Rosie the Riveter!" Intrigued, I glanced over to see what he was referring to, only to find everyone on the bus staring at... me. Now, I only glanced, I was afterall zipping along the trail, so maybe there was something else so nicknamed. Um. The recumbent does display the calves of doom to their best advantage, I guess.
