A Slight Delay

Okay, break time’s over (mine, anyway). A quick take on another tasty, addictive snack, this one from the good folks at Calbee. Well, I’m assuming they’re good, fine people. There’s nothing to indicate that they’re not. I don’t think that they use whales or baby seals in their snacks, so…

Where was I? Oh, yes. Their “Snapea Crisps.” Texture: think Cheez Doodles. The puffy kind, minus the annoying orange stuff that gets all over your fingers, and could easily substitute for a dye pack in your local bank (”Suspect was apprehended when he was spotted licking his fingers a block away from First National.”). Taste: Think peas. ‘Nuff said. If you like peas (lightly salted) and Cheez Doodles, this should be right up your alley. They also come in a Caesar flavor, which I haven’t tasted.

I’ve found a new obsession (and, unfortunately, can’t find a picture of the package). The brand name, or maybe the name of the product itself, is Nori Hineri Norisuke. For all the Japanese I know, that could well translate to “You’ll eat half the bag before you know it.”

The closest thing I could think to compare this to would be Rice Krispies, if they had grown to mutant size (i.e. something likely to be found in Godzilla’s cereal bowl), were crinkle cut, and were delicately seasoned with nori (seaweed) and wasabi. It’s an interesting taste… savory, with a hint of malt and just the right amount of heat (not so mild as to be an afterthought, but less wasabi than you’d find in wasabi peas). I do not, however, recommend putting them in milk, unless you’re an enormous green fire-breathing lizard with a phobia over high-tension wires, in which case you can go right ahead and do as you please.

It’s now five years to the day since President Bush unilaterally declared an end to the Crusade War On Terror  Fight Against Global Extremism Glorious Struggle Against Islamofascism War in Iraq, which was meant to find Osama Bin Laden democratize the Middle East bring peace, prosperity, and democracy to Iraq  wait a minute. What in the hell are we doing there again? The names, faces, and rationales have shifted as if in a sandstorm, or have become lost in the fog of war; each promise, and each benchmark, has been broken, rationalized, and ultimately replaced, with the administration fervently hoping each time that nobody remembers the rationales of days gone by. Read the rest of this entry »

The Apostate ran a post today titled, simply enough, Sean Bell is Not A Feminist Issue. While I can’t find much to fault in the title, the substance of her essay is something else again. In it, she takes to task both Feministe and Feministing for framing the Bell shooting in feminist terms. Commence the disagreement. Read the rest of this entry »

Okay, maybe you don’t need a potato ricer, as such. But once you have one, it’s a bit like having a microwave oven; you’re not sure what you did without it. If, when you’re mashing potatoes, you wonder how long it’s going to be before you end up with a repetetive strain injury, a potato ricer will be a welcome addition to your kitchen arsenal. Mine cost all of ten bucks, purchased at Target. You can also get a Potato Ricer on Amazon for the same price. The construction’s simple: picture a garlic press on steroids. And it’s easy to use, too. Boil your taters, stick ‘em in the ricer, and squeeze, and you’ve got perfectly fluffy, non-lumpy, mashed potatoes. They require less labor, and less butter and milk, than they would if you used a masher. Cleanup of the ricer pictured is easy, too, since the part that holds the potatoes removes easily for cleaning. See the next entry for a recipe to road-test your ricer.

So much for catchy nomenclature. At least I can claim truth in advertising. “What’s that?” “Oh, it’s a sweet potato thingy.” You may, if you’d prefer, call it a whatzit, doodad, or just refer to it as “Jasper,” for all I care.

But I digress. Now that you’ve got your potato ricer (see previous entry), here’s something you can make with it. It’s a bit faster variation on a recipe my mother makes every Thanksgiving. You can use an electric beater or a potato masher, but the ricer will give better results. What you’ll need:

Two decent-sized sweet potatoes or yams (I’ve used both)
1 small can of crushed pineapple
A bit (say, a quarter- or half-cup) of shredded coconut
Spices and nuts (optional; see below)

First, you’ll have to deal with the coconut. If you want it sweet, you can just dump it in straight from the package, and skip the remainder of this paragraph (you can also toast it if you’d like, and then skip the rest of this paragraph). If you want it moreso for the texture, and want a flavor that says “coconut” and not “would you like some coconut with your sugar,” find a small bowl, put the coconut in there first, and pour enough milk over it to cover it. Then, cover and refrigerate the bowl, draining it when you’re ready to use it.

Next, peel and dice your sweet potatoes. Go for a medium dice, since they’ll cook quicker and more evenly. Next, boil them ’til they’re done. They shouldn’t be mushy, nor should they be too raw. Drain, and set aside.

While the spuds are cooling, drain the crushed pineapple, reserving the juice, and set that aside. Run the sweet potatoes through the ricer in batches, ’til the lot of them have been mashed. Then stir in the pineapple and coconut. You likely won’t need to add any liquid; if you do, you can use either the reserved pineapple juice, or a bit of orange juice.

What you’ve got now is a pretty suitable side dish. You can add nuts if you’d like; pecans or walnuts work well. Cinnamon gives a nice flavor to the proceedings. Or, if you’d like something that’ll give a nice contrast, add a bit of chopped cilantro to taste.

CAN: Anthology
Okay, unabashed geek time. I like progressive rock. Not all of it–you will never hear me debating the merits of Ozric Tentacles versus Spock’s Beard versus Dream Theater, for instance–but I will admit a soft spot for stuff from about 1968-78, in all its bombastic glory. Yes? Yes. King Crimson? Of course. Genesis, with or without Peter Gabriel? Natch. And throw in–among others–some Eno, 801, Roxy Music, Seru Giran… well, you get the picture.

But there’s a problem with a lot of Prog: it sounds too much like Whitney Houston. Read the rest of this entry »

I’m suspicious of anything I see advertised on television. So I’d been skeptical for a while about the George Foreman Grill, in any of its guises; if television advertising is cause for suspicion, then a celebrity’s name attached to a product is the kiss of death.

On the other hand, when you live in an apartment with no balcony, no patio, and not quite enough room to swing a cat, it’s not like you can set up a gas grill in the living room. So we caved in and bought the G5, the latest incarnation of the George Foreman Grill. Read the rest of this entry »

Nothing beats fresh spices. The taste of a clove of crushed garlic, cilantro snipped right off the stem, or fresh-cut parsley (just try making tabouleh with parsley flakes) puts dried spices to shame. On the other hand, if you’re short on time, it can be a pain in the neck cutting, washing, snipping, et cetera.

Polaner–the same company that makes fruit preserves and whatnot–have done a nice job of bridging the gap between the produce section and those little jars of sad, dessicated horticulture. Most supermarkets will carry at least the garlic and basil (which, between them, put you well on your way to a good pesto), but oregano and jalapeño peppers are also out there. They’re relatively inexpensive, and while they’re not the same as going to your local farmer’s market they’re a good compromise, especially if you want fresh taste but you don’t have as much prep time as you’d like.

 The second thing that crossed my mind upon hearing the verdict that was handed down in the Sean Bell case–the first had been simple disbelief–was a song lyric from the Clash:

You have the right not to be killed
Murder is a crime
Unless it was done by a policeman

Different lessons seem to have been drawn on both sides of the case. Black men have been reminded that it’s dangerous to leave their homes with their keys, wallets, or even candy bars (each of the preceding has resulted in the shooting death of a black man at the hands of the police)–to say nothing of their skin. The NYPD, on the other hand, has been reminded that for all intents and purposes, they have carte blance to use whatever degree of force they see fit, whether or not it’s proportionate to the threat–real or perceived–posed by their targets. Read the rest of this entry »