At a birthday party I saw a guy drinking my favorite beer, a Sassy Red. I pointed and gave him an encouraging and approving nod of the head, and he said, “I know, right? It’s a great beer.”
“It’s one of my favorites,” I said.
“I know, right? Can you believe a girl saw it tonight and called it a sissy red?”
“She did? Why’d she do that?”
“Because she’s a bitch.”
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I met an American from Chicago this week, and we talked about the city and the experiences of moving to New Zealand. She said, “After telling someone I’m from Chicago, I hate when they say ‘from one windy city to another’ or something else about the wind.”
20 minutes later we were standing in a circle, with strangers. Someone asks her, “So where in the states are you from?”
“Chicago,” she said.
“From one windy city to another, eh?”
If you’re moving to Wellington from Chicago, expect a lot of wind talk. Whether you like it or not, it’s where our cultures try to connect.
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Next Friday I’m flying to Chicago for a seven week holiday. If any of my kiwi friends want something from America, let me know. I have a large suitcase.
Categories:american-ism, jeffrey-ism, kiwi-ism, life, memory, patriotism
I’ve been busy with work and other bits, but here are highlights from the past two months.
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I saw the Wellington Phoenix win a few games
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I ran seven kilometers in the Wellington Round the Bays and finished in 34:32, which is about 8 minutes per mile
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I attended Webstock with my colleagues. It was inspiring and my favorite speakers were Shelley Bernstein and John Resig
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Last week I weighed 60.1 kilograms, or 132 pounds. I’m close to my fat goal. Soon I will be in a permanent fattened state
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I’m consistently winning cash in poker tournaments. I’ve placed second, third and fourth in 180 player tourneys
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I had my first bloody nose. It was scary
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Xero Personal was released this week. I love it, you should check it out
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Last weekend Louie was in Wellington on a holiday. Our worlds are so different.
“They have 2 pound cocktails in London,” she says.
I look at her in disbelief. How do they measure that? Can someone drink two pounds of alcohol? How many liters is that? Alcoholics.
I say, “Are you serious? That’s almost a kilogram.”
She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Two British pounds. They’re cheap, not heavy.”
Categories:goals, jeffrey-ism, kiwi-ism, life
My second loaf of bread, Pane Siciliano, was complex.
Over the weekend the dough went through three stages of fermentation and proofing. Most of the time is spent waiting for the dough to do something.
Shaping it was tricky, because if I rolled the dough too much, or pushed it too hard, it would degas.1 If the dough lost the gas created by the yeast, the holes would disappear and the flavor would change.
The bread is pretty good with dips and oils, except the bottom is a bit crispy. Because the loaf is freestanding, I need a buy a baking stone to stop it from burning.
I’m happy with the way it looks and tastes. The book I have is excellent.
1. Who knew degas was a word? Because of school, I only see Edward Degas, but I’m guessing it’s de-gas, as in gasoline. I will use it from now on in this context: “It stinks. Did you just degas?”
Categories:creator, goals
One of my goals this year is to learn how to make bread, and here is my first loaf.
The recipe1 is from the book titled The Bread Baker’s Apprentice: Mastering the Art of Extraordinary Bread by Peter Reinhart.
Besides listing recipes the author also talks about the different chemical processes in bread making. The most surprising idea I learned was that the dough is kneaded not only to mix the ingredients, but to raise its temperature so the yeast activates.
Kneading was the fun bit even though it was a workout.
I also needed to take the temperature of the bread while it was baking. Each loaf needs to rise to a certain temperature, depending on the type of bread. In this way, bread is like turkey.
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My flat mate saw me kneading the dough.
“That looks sticky.”
“Yes it’s sticky. I think I need to add more flour,” I said.
“You know my mom has a bread machine. You can borrow it if you want to make bread.”
“…”
“Would you like to borrow it?”
“No, you fool! I need to feel the dough between my fingers!”
1. Strangely this bread required brown rice, honey and buttermilk.
Categories:creator, goals
This month I moved into a new house with a blue roof. The beach is across the street and the Catholic Church Monastery of St. Gerard is above my home.
I have one complaint about my new abode. During our first morning together it tried to kill me.
It was a normal start to a normal day. I woke up late, as usual. I hit walls while walking to the bathroom and I fiddled with the temperature of the shower. I noticed the tub was unusually curved. When I groggily turned to grab the shampoo and sing like Ferris Bueller my feet lost their grip and, as usual, gravity was pitiless.
I fell in the tub. I was embarrassed, even though I was alone. I carefully stood up, dressed myself and went to the doctor. I thought I fractured a rib.
After giving me a series of hugs to assess the damage to my rib cage the doctor said, “You probably have a small fracture. Don’t be a pussy and go to work.”
Apparently I like to start a new year by breaking bones. One year ago I broke my toe. January is a dangerous month.
When I told a colleague at work I slipped in the tub, she said when her mother fell in the bath she broke her nose. When I told Richard about my accident, he said his grandfather died from slipping in the tub.
Be careful, reader. Tubs are dangerous.
Categories:jeffrey-ism, jinxed, kiwi-ism, life
