SLB

Said blemished New-Air, populated: There are another several bottles in the regular fridge, which I couldn't get in the cooler. It was quite the gift, and included a box of Krug. I guess it's gonna be a good wine summer.

It's the best!

I had dinner last week with a VERY SERIOUS WINE PERSON, who then gave me a few cases of VERY SERIOUS WINES. Well. I live in an un-air-conditioned fifth-floor walkup. So I just ordered me a wine refrigerator. In the meantime, the boxes sit in my neighbor's air-conditioned living room, two floors down. ETA: I got a "blemished" New-Air, which was about half price, and purports to run at 35dB -- a critical quality in an apartment which already features a 20+ year old fridge, a chest freezer, and round-the-clock fans all summer.

I am going to a resto in this cuisine tonight, La Vara. http://www.lavarany.com/ People, I am so excited. I can't wait to eat this food. This is my third restaurant since the pandemic, I'm not messin' around.

Frozen vegetables. I'd get these gigantic deliveries of vegetables, and I would then spend what seemed like a lot of time methodically blanching and freezing and packing. My freezer used to be all protein, plus maybe a few leftovers; now it tends to have a nice selection of frozen vegetables from the prior season, too. So, I'm using more of 'em.

I am the opposite. I experience beer as something which is all and only taste, and with none of the urge for more that has nothing to do with taste. And with that particular taste, I only want a (relatively) little bit. My experience with spirits is . , . not like this at all. I always want a second cocktail. "Want" doesn't even really describe the feeling, it's like something coming from another part of my brain. It's a feeling that is unconcerned with "want". [I guess that would be the "jones".] The feeling -- I more want to call it a *thing* -- it goes away if I don't have the second, but it takes a bit and, weirdly, I have to remind myself that it'll pass. In this way, it's kind of like strenuous fitness activity -- I know the discomfort will absolutely totally pass, each and every time -- plus, the truth is, it isn't really going to get worse, either -- but I have to deliberately recall this little uncontroverted memory, every single workout, every single steep, every single leap in the heartrate. Wine is somewhere in between, but much closer to beer than to spirits. To be sure -- I usually will have more than one glass of wine -- I have possibly raged here about the underutilized quantity in bars and restos, the "quartino", which for me feels basically perfect. But the point is -- I don't have to remember that I'm sated with the wine -- "satiety" seems to be strictly palate-driven, with nothing else in drive. [**To be clear -- I realize that this experience may not be the reality. And, in another fact which seems like it could be relevant -- almost all wine begins to taste a bit sweet to me after about a glass, and while I like it alright, there is only so much sweet I can swallow.] However. Dry, acrid spirits? Having another feels . . . downright sensible! I believe in some addiction circles they call this: "False Evidence Appearing Real." Many glasses of dry, acrid spirits is not, it turns out, sensible. Anyway. I have often wondered what it would be like if I experienced spirits the way I experience beer -- one and done, no mourning -- which is what I think must be true for other people.

How thoughtful of them. We have raccoons here in my very urban neighborhood. They are gigantic as is appropriate in a landscape to overly abundant with garbage. They are also bold, rabid, and not entirely nocturnal. One tried to follow me into my vestibule one evening. I hate them with a white-hot heat.

@heidih, I never have; but it's an awful lot of material to go into the garbage, so I guess I need to look into it.

Red romaine; mint; and BRAND NEW ENGLISH PEAS!!! I shelled 'em on an interminable zoom call. Steak, too.

I am glad to know all of this, whew.

Thank you. I am wanting to make it as a backpacking snack, so I'm not sure the stem stuff would work. I can get nauseous when backpacking with a large pack, I'm not really sure why. But I'm thinking, ginger is what they give you for that in helicopters . . . . Anyway. I have a killer trail mix -- candied dried rhubarb; dried strawberries (this year I'm trying to candy these too; strangely strawberries dehydrate to kinda bland although it's not a bad bland); and cashews. Or pecans, but something about the cashews works out well (I don't actually like cashews anywhere else. Or anything all sweetened up like this, anywhere else. Outside of strenuous physical activity I can't really tolerate sugary-sweet anything. This could be related to the nausea, possibly, the fact that I am suddenly wolfing down straight sugar garnished with a little fruit and fat . . . .) Anyway -- sometimes m&ms also go in, for tradition's sake (preferably dark, let's not get carried away on this hyper-sweetness). Anyway. I was thinking of sticking little candied ginger sticks in that. Although I do like bits of candied citrus peel in cookies and cakes, my only other routine use of candied anything is cocktails. I think candied citrus peel is just divine in my likka. And I suspect that candied ginger is going to perform very well there, if it turns out that I can't take it on the trail. Or if I, uh, have some extra.

Thank you!

Why would a recipe for candied ginger call for sugar (lots), AND light corn syrup? The concept involves multiple rounds of boiling in sugar, followed by long soaks. The second round, however, specifies light corn syrup. This is from the Time Life Good Cook series, which never really misses a landing. And I know that corn syrup makes for a different texture. But I'm not sure why that would be meaningful here. What on earth is the purpose of the corn syrup round???

They are awfully pretty.

Chile'. I would've been that annoying neighbor-kid who had to be flat-out ousted to get to go home. I know this because, my actual next-door neighbor as a kid lived in a house with real cheese, which they had every afternoon for this event called a "snack". I basically tried to be living there, every afternoon. Because over at my house, such a suggestion for a "snack" was met with, "you'll spoil your dinner!".