Carrot Top

Sounds delicious. We might have to all be careful not to eat too much though. I told a friend about Pi Day, and he e-mailed me back:

Rebecca. Remember this that you wrote, from this topic? I've never forgotten it, and don't even have to read it to see it in my mind.

A pi tattoo? That's very cool! That would be a tough limerick to top, it is so musical! But I'll add a Pi Story . . . Heh. I've heard good things come in little packages. Mini-pi may be of great value. .................................................................. Here's a story to pass the time - Pi Rules Pia reached the door of her apartment panting with exhaustion. The twenty pounds of pickles she'd carried up four flights of stairs had left her feeling rather pissed off, but still she was very much looking forward to preparing for the meeting of the Pious Pi Club that was having their annual gathering in her home tonight. There was still so much to be done. She brushed past the ping-pong table rented for the occasion that filled most of her living room and wondered again at how thirty one people and one large St.Bernard dog (borrowed for the evening from a neighbor, to make up the neccesary "point four" that the scene required) ever managed to fit in there, but they had been doing this for the past four years now, and intended to go on doing it for the next twenty-seven years, with the last party being held .415 of a year later. Now that party would be some bash, she thought, and wondered if Pippin, that cute guy from Picadilly Circus, would still make her feel pins-and-needles when she looked at him for more than 3.14 seconds. Not for the first time, Pia (whose specialty was the co-joined studies of glands and numbers) mused again at Pi and the function of the pituitary gland. That subject could keep her happily entertained for hours! The pickles were now safely ensconced on the triangular pie-table near the end of one of the three grouped sofas. How perfect it looked, the huge jug making a solid presence hinting at "just that bit more than three", architecturally, which actually made Pia's heart skip a beat with the sheer visual pleasure of it, so delightfully underlined for the casual eye with such mathematical precision. Reaching into the antique pie-safe she'd sponge-painted, Pia pushed the swing of her shiny caramel-colored asymmetrical-cut hair behind her ears. Time to really get busy. The Pinochle game had to be set up (she herself preferred Parcheesi but the group had voted that Parcheesi was just a game where a lot of excess letters had gotten in-between the beauty of a "P" and "I" and that the notion was disturbing, so the idea had been voted down), the pickup sticks specially ordered from a group of Tibetan monks whose previous careers had been as mathematicians needed to be arranged at each place of the tables set in the dining room, and of course the food needed to be finished and set out. With a sigh, Pia pushed an Edith Piaf CD into the player. "La Vie en Rose". The energy of the little songbird's passion filled Pia with determination and resolve. With a deep breath, she approached the kitchen. Most of the food had been brought earlier for re-heating. One good thing about Pi-lovers is that they were darn organized! None of this last-minute dashing-around nonsense. Things were Done Right. She started to remove things from the refrigerator. The chicken piccata was placed on the counter as she heated the oven for re-heating. Whoever had brought it had added pignoli nuts, she noted! Lovely! A soupe au pistou was put on a slow burner to warm. Ah! Pierogis! She hoped there were enough. Thirty-one pierogis never seemed to last too long with this group. The chilled whole pike stuffed with pistachios, with its Pilsner glaze, shimmered enchantingly. Pia momentarily wondered if that guy with the pica disorder, who never ate at these parties, would be tempted by it, for it was truly glorious. The pita breads were arranged on a large golden platter, so much meaning in the circumference and diameter of each circle, each line, every single one of them. An enormous tray of picadillo accompanied by pilaf was next to be added to the countertop to await the oven's warmth. Cindy, who had been a chef before her second career as a famous piano-tuner, had made a Pithiviers of pigeon, with little numbers carved into the round surface of the pastry. 3, 1, 4, 5, 9. Pia felt her heart lurch from the sheer beauty of it, and a tear of joy escaped to trickle down her cheek. She added her own contribution, a pineapple upside-down cake, perfectly square, and hoped that everyone would realize that it also demonstrated Newtonian Principle. A quick little smirk lit her face, thinking of how she would inform them all of this fact at dessert-time. Soon enough, all was ready. Pia prepared to greet her guests. She was wearing her usual costume of a Pirate, and wondered how they would dress this year. The door was opened with loud happy greetings over and over again, after the guest would tattoo three loud knocks and one small one. "Piacere!" they shouted as they entered. Soon Pia was surrounded by her peers. A piranha, tottering slightly sideways with the heaviness of his costume, had slid through the door. Picasso was over by the bar, pouring absinthe into three small glasses. A pixie watched him, laughing gleefully. The Pillsbury Doughboy was wedged into a chair, grunting something about the three extra pounds he'd gained after giving up cigarettes. Most of the guests were out on the piazza, poking at the pinata, which this year had been made to look like a pimp. "Pianissimo!" Pia called. "Time to eat!" "Piffle," the pixie responded. "Pi-time is always play time." The party was glorious. The numbers and circles and squares flowed through the conversation and the food, making a pleasant time for all. The foods were all enjoyed, and everyone had left but Pippin. Pia smiled at him, a little gleam of hope rising in her throat (and, admittedly, various other places). Would he think to kiss her three times very hard, then once more lightly, then four times in tiny little pecks, then one more time hard then five tiny pecks finished by nine little licks perhaps? She turned towards him. "What was your favorite food tonight, Pippin?" she smilingly asked, turning her face framed by its asymmetrical haircut up towards his very round face, nicely framed with a perfectly trimmed square haircut. She'd always liked redheaded men, against the advice of her redheaded girlfriends, who had warned her against them for some vague unknown reason. "Too mischievious," was all they usually would say when asked why. Pippin paused, turning his head just the slightest bit sideways as he looked down at Pia. "Well . . you know . . . I think it was that pizza someone brought." Pia turned away, her hopes dashed. Pizza. The man preferred pizza. She could not ever love this man, she knew. Pizza. What a mess, in all ways. But as she showed him out the door, she clicked her tongue against her teeth three times. Tsk tsk tsk. After all, there were many Pi parties left to go to in the coming years. And that, of course, was what really mattered.

I tried one, Toliver, while taking the kids through the drive-through a while ago. The "Angus" designation made me curious. It was disgusting.

Thank you for mentioning a story, something to read. I am eternally grateful to you for freeing my mind from absorption and contraction by the all-powerful Pi. I love your idea. A cake made to look like a raft, with marzipan figures of Pi himself laying prone on the surface, surrounded by the animals (if indeed that's what they "be" ). Fantastic. And I would only need three assistants to produce this, as I would be willing to do .14 percent of the work involved. Thank goodness my mind is uncluttered by excess or advanced schooling. Never heard of that. Do you mean this guy? It would be difficult for me to peel six or eight ripe ones like him. Maybe Pontormo would help me.

Are you quite sure that the idea of Pi is Greek? Sometimes these things turn out to be ancient Sumerian or something, instead. It would be wrong to make a Greek pie where an Ancient Sumerian pie would be more historically accurate. Because I went to your recommended Pi Day site and clicked on "Learn about Pi" and this is what it said: Probably they were too busy turning around in circles 3.14 times each minute to have the time to tell just anyone who happened to click on the site any information.

That sounds good. And clothes shopping is always fun. I've been longing for a lemon curd tart myself but would then have to find fresh redcurrants to top it in order to fit the pi-size requirements that have now filled my mind. This is so satisfying. Hmm. I may just take to meditation and hum "piiiiiii, piiiiiiii," instead of "ohmmm. . . "

Yes, infinitely Too Much ness, I agree. The only almond tart recipe I really like is from Alice Waters. Very simple, not oversweet. But the problem with that recipe is that in order to get 31.4 almond slices per portion, it would have to be made as a long rectangular tart and cut into giant size pieces. Like, maybe the size of a salad plate. (A square salad plate of course. Let's not lose our balance here by thinking in the round. )

The one problem I have with the GPS devices is that when they talk to you in some places in cities where there are overhanging things that get in the way of the signal, there is a hesitation with what they tell you, and if you are driving fast which anyone with any sense does in a city (while swearing, naturally, with some vigor at the others who are trying to cut you off) you can drive right past the turn unless you slow to a stupid crawl while, instead of arguing with your spouse or companion, instead you yell at the GPS which does not respond in any sort of interesting way at all. All it does is give you a dull monotone of a ridiculous-sounding voice saying "Recalculating directions. Recalulating directions." If I am going to have a fit over getting correct and prompt directions, I would rather have a fit with a human being whom I can smile at later. I have no desire to smile at at GPS. But of course guys are different. They just might.

I very much enjoyed living in Paris with my little black Pomeranian "Wolfie". We dined together often (in the casual places, I did not bring him to dine with me in the temples of cuisine ) and his adorability brought smiles to many faces. I loved dining outside in Greece with cats wandering around my feet being decorative and entertaining. Yes, I like the idea. Often, I prefer to look at a dog or a cat than the scenery or the people. Heh. P.S. I just noticed your photo, Anne! Ah. Proved me wrong momentarily, for I am glad to see you!

It's the best way to be, don't you think May miladyinsanity? Actually nut tartlets would be nice. Using sliced almonds baked in tartlet tins with a pecan-pie type-base as binder but lighter. I bet thirty one point four sliced almonds would fit into an average tartlet tin. Nut tartlets would be appropriate to serve to people who think math is nuts anyway.

Yep. Damn sexy too.

And of course nothing in my attempt above to resolve and/or improve the societal status of the woman (man? ) in the kitchen at home helps this thing I have of thinking of food in the romantic way that I tend to, but at least maybe it could provide some respect as a side dish.

Here's some interesting thoughts from Reay Tannahill's "Food in History" in the section "The Birth of Civilization": (In this section, the subject is the 7000 years where humanity moved from a Stone Age existence into a state of civilization. Beforehand, women and men appear to have been more or less equal in the division of labor that provided the family's meals, but after this transition, Tannahill writes, "emerging from the Neolithic mists, most institutions, most inventions and all power were the prerogative of the male") I'm not sure what to take away from this* except that it reinforces my own feelings that I don't ever really want to be a truck farmer. P.S. *Except, to wonder if there is something in a historic or factual way about "care-work" (which includes home-cooking for the family) that substantially removes it from a place where it could or would ever, finally, be respected as much as the work of a "professional" (for in "professional" jobs one major factor is time allotted and time respected by others, for the one that is doing it, for thinking). The thinking part. If care-work were to be altered in society's perception, to something that included "time for creative thinking" then maybe it could cast off the aspersions that lurk in odd ways near it. Interesting, too, to read azurite's earlier excellent post above, and then thinking of the historical perspective that Tannahill provides:

If I were pi-prone, I would make a blueberry pie. Round or square. Or maybe even free-form just to accentuate how mathematic other sorts of pies actually are. It would be a pie with a top crust and a bottom crust, and the top crust would be decorated with cut-out pastry numbers. 3's, 1's, and 4's. Well-glazed of course, to make the numbers attractive rather than scary, which can so often be the case with numbers. When it was time to cut and serve the pi pie, there would be a contest held among whomever was eating it to count the berries they had been served (by sheer luck of the draw and cut of the knife - no math controls there) and the person with the number of berries closest to 31.4 would win a prize. Like a nice protractor kit or something. Afterwards we would play pick-up-sticks while using the sticks we picked up to hit the edges of the glasses of our perfectly measured-out pousse-cafes, trying to create the best little drum-riff in any three-point-one-four second period of time. Mwah ha ha ha ha.

I try to avoid mathematics as much as possible but isn't Pi an infinite number? If so, I think you should start baking one pie on the day itself and then never stop, continuing on with at least a pie a day. Or, to do it really right, maybe you should proceed forward into time with the numeric pattern of Pi as your constant. Make three pies the first day, one pie the second, four the next day and so on and so forth, for the rest of your life. I rather like that idea.

Darn it all, ludja, but I was counting on all that scrolling to be my weight-loss exercise for the day.

I can tell you one thing it's done - it's made me order salads and healthy options when they are available (and given the price points and ingredients I wonder if they might not be more profitable sometimes than some other menu items) and it's made me willing to even enter the doors of some fast-food places or chains more than I was before . . . and I'm not sure I'm the only one that feels this way. It still feels as if the focus on "bad obesity" is a bad culprit to me. It feels as if the focus should be on "good health", and I think there are profits to be made there for everyone in this situation - perhaps not fast profits or huge profits, but profits nonetheless.

It seems to me that there is enough interest among consumers that eat at chains in the idea of "healthy food" (just because this is an interest in general in our culture, broadly, at this point in time) that the idea (of having the information available on-site but not forced upon the diner), could really be an excellent thing for both consumer and for the business. The shape that this *should* take is not one of punishment or of warning *against* certain foods or certain portion sizes but rather the shape of having *more options* and having the knowledge to decide between all options available made easily available to the consumer. I think this is such a good idea that if I were a DM of a corporate chain I would develop a proposal to give to the VP in charge of the area that would include the costs of doing this (including training for new seventeen year old hostesses, who, if they do *not* learn after being trained, might actually be made to cry by their manager rather than by the CSPI guy ) vs. the estimated profits that could be made by bringing more customers (of a slightly different variety perhaps) in the door, over a certain period of time - then give it a trial run. It would have to be shaped as a promotional idea and would have to have corporate support behind it for it to work well. Advertising costs would have to be part of the budget for this trial period. These corporate chains are in fierce competition for customers. Generally they are all in one area, sitting there together like clumps of foreshortened trolls awaiting their diners with bright pink and blue shining signs decorated their fake-log-cabin fronts. The food is not all that different between many of them. Customer loyalty is a much-desired commodity in the corporate chain, and to get customer loyalty requires defining a personality that certain customer groups will enjoy over the other place next door. Meeting sales goals *counts*. And exceeding sales goals provides managers and DM's and VP's etc etc. better bonuses. I can not see how offering this service would offend anyone and can see how it would rather, make some, very pleased and ready to come back and eat again, *soon*. Great opportunity for a niche service, a foothold in the rough bark of the tall scrubby trees of the jungle.

When we moved into this house, there was (still is ) an old rotary-dial phone (in an awful yellow color ) attached to the kitchen wall. My son, now barely 13, wanted to know what it was. I had to teach him how to use it, pushing his fingers into the holes of the dial and showing him how to turn it. He was very focused on this ancient arcane task, his eyes intent upon the very wierdness of it all. What a strange way of dialing a number that was! (Though we never thought so while doing it in the past . . . ) And I'm curious whether the rice drink was sweet or not. Did you like the taste? I've heard that when a Chinese restaurant opens, the good-luck gift should be green plants. Is this true also in Korea? I also wonder what the deer's antlers are supposed to be good for - it is a "health" drink, isn't it? P.S. I am quite sure there are two of you, twins, that are doing this blog. So much energy displayed here for our eager eyes!

If he did he (she?) would risk some pretty damn bad public relations stories in the newspapers that would make the organization look pretty sleazy. Hey. Sounds like a plan.

I adore that placed in that spot, Anne. Adorable. My answer would be that I would call placing informational sheets at the chains the "Post-It" effect, and if I were a manager I'd want to give it a try. Why? Well . . why not? Why? Are you thinking of being a hostess at one of the chains? Honey, you'd never get any work done if I came in to eat, 'cause we'd just have to sit and have a lovely tussle of a chat.

So if corporate chain restaurants decided to have a line on the bottom of their menus that said "Nutritional information available upon request" and there was a sheet with this information available behind the host station that the servers had access to, so that they could bring this informational sheet to the diners that requested it, how would that sit with you, John?

I look forward very much to reading what you write about, SB. Yes, I am sure that when you share the things you cook it is much appreciated, Ellen. And food is very affirming, isn't it. I talk about my life because I am very curious about other peoples lives. Everyone has a story, don't they - whether they believe they do or not. And food has to be a big part of anyone's story, again, whether they believe it or not. For where would we all be without it?

I'm against legislation, too. But I would like to have the chains be pro-active in terms of providing the information to those who would want it, on-site. A simple page that could be given to the customer if they asked for it - with a small note on the bottom of the menus that this information *was* available upon request - would be a good thing to my mind. But of course I use post-it notes to remind me to do things. I like them. So naturally I would like the equivalent available to me in these situations. It *might* remind me to make the best choice available in terms of what I chose from the menu for myself.