Mayo Crisis

 

It was time to make mayo.  I think I put three cups of oil in a quart jar.  But that filled it up.  There really should have been room for a fourth cup.  I put the oil in a one quart measuring container and it did have enough room for another cup.  So something seemed off kilter.  I should have stopped immediately.  

Sadly, I have been watching videos about mayo again.  One of them strongly recommended whisking the eggs and putting them in the microwave for around 45 seconds to pasteurize them.  I don't worry much about egg germs, since it's unlikely for an egg to get germs due to the shell.  Nevertheless, the video person urged that one pasteurize the eggs because then the mayo would last for around a month instead of a week.  Well, yeah.  The mayo is never around for more than a few days though.  

OK.  I decided, "How hard is it to put eggs into the microwave?"  This must have been Satan speaking.  I put them in for 30 seconds to err on the side of caution.  Then I had scrambled eggs.  Back to the drawing board.  Incredibly, I tried again, for the final time I ever try this hopefully.   I thought stirring it every few seconds would fix it.  Then I thought I would strain it to try and retrieve the raw part.  No egg went through the strainer.  

By now a five minute chore had taken half an hour.   I was rewarded with a mayo fail. 

Having also watched several videos on mayo rescue, I decided to attempt to fix it.  At least eight eggs and two egg yolks later, plus three tablespoons of collagen powder I had some glop that looked like eggnog.  

Some have said, when their mayo fails like this, "I use it for hollandaise sauce!"  Have I ever made hollandaise sauce?  No.  I have also never eaten hollandaise sauce.  "Oh, but you could use this glop as a salad dressing!" some have said.  Then I'm pretty sure your nice salad that you put so much effort into would also be ruined.   

So after 45 minutes I put my mayo fail in the refrigerator and hoped the collagen would make it gel enough to use.   

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Easter Bunny

 

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Amanda Luny

 

I noticed a name on caller ID that said Amanda Luny.  It was a local number, and I called it to see who answered.  The number was disconnected.  

Can telemarketers at least invent more credible names?  Ms. Luny is now on call block.   Ms. Luny happened to call on April 16th, the full moon. 

Happy Easter

 

Happy Easter

Chicken Broth

 

You better run chicken.  Yesterday I made chicken broth.  Chicken stock as opposed to chicken broth is....?  I've heard different definitions.  I usually say chicken broth.   But what do I call chicken broth?  

Chicken broth that I make is bones, skin, and meat left over from roasted chicken after a meal.   So I roasted chicken twice over the past week and saved all the drippings, bones, skin and meat, and put it in the Instant Pot.  I filled the Instant Pot the rest of the way with water, and about three tablespoons of apple cider vinegar, two tablespoons of salt, several sliced up cloves of garlic, and a quartered onion.  I pressure cooked it on high for two and a half hours.  I would say it would have been OK to continue another half hour to an hour, but as it was, oh my, it's good.  This morning I gave the last of the bones and skin to the feral kitties.  They still don't like me. 

Broth perfection is achieved when chilled broth gels like jello.  Well, this broth is not quite perfection.  But it's soooo good.  There is just nothing like homemade chicken broth.  

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The Post Office Goes Postal

 

This morning at 10:30 I checked to see if the mail had run.  It usually runs at 9:30 these days.  To my surprise it was scattered around a variety of places.  I had made a point of going out just then because there was high wind and a thunderstorm, along with rain coming down in buckets, and there had been another tornado here yesterday.   My letters were gone with the wind.  My boxes had disintegrated, one of them out in a mud puddle.   I retrieved them, but the box was destroyed.  And I was soaking wet and dashing around out in a storm trying not to be hit by lightning.  Inside the one in the mud puddle was a $700 electrical device from Amazon.  

I decided to call the local post office and complain, which is tricky because their number isn't listed.  However, I knew another post office number off the top of my head and called them and got the number.  Cheesh.  The damsel I spoke to informed me that she was the postmaster.  When I told her what happened, she gave me a tongue lashing.  Oh yeah?  I told her that most packages were put in plastic bags when it was obviously about to rain.  "Not the post office!" she told me.  I responded that the "finer" package deliverers did.  "May I speak to your supervisor?" I asked.  She gave me a number to call.  I told her to learn what customer service is, and hung up.  All I was trying to accomplish was to prevent further catastrophes in the future.  

My call to the postmaster's "supervisor" was an answering machine, and while I left a message, I can't say I felt very good about my postal future.  

Then I called Amazon.  Oh, I managed to round up a nice enough lady to voice my concerns to, but she told me that she could do nothing.  "May I speak to your supervisor?" I asked.  Soon I was finally talking to a person that didn't think $700 electrical devices should be delivered to mud puddles in thunderstorms.  

To my relief, he actually seemed to enjoy hearing me emote about my nightmare experience talking to the post office.  He said, "They think that you need them.  They need the customer or they won't have a job."  He added Amazon has a contract with them to deliver packages, but that when he has spoken to the post office about their shoddy package delivery, they have informed him that they don't do parcels, they do mail.  Oh, they accept money for delivering parcels, but they don't deliver parcels?  "Well, my mail didn't arrive either.  It all blew away.  It's in someone's treetop now."  In fact, most of my mail goes to a post office box just because of postal insanity in the past.  So he allowed me to vent some, and he had a similar opinion of to post office.  He told me that he would take the post office out of the option to deliver from Amazon in the future.  

Goodness, I was relieved to speak to someone that cared that my expensive package was poorly treated.  Thank you Amazon.  

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Parish Rice

 

Comparing Parish rice to regular white rice.  

White rice has 54 g of carbohydrates per serving - 1 cup cooked.  The glycemic index is 73 and almost no fiber.   The same serving of brown rice has 49 g of carbohydrates with a glycemic index of 68, and 3 g of fiber.  Well, that's better I guess, but still high in carbs and having a high glycemic index.  Table sugar has a glycemic index of 65, for example.  

Parish rice has a glycemic index of 41.  To me, this is surprising news.  Parish rice still contains as many carbs as standard white rice, but the higher protein content changes the way the carbs affect the body.  

My blood glucose numbers are OK, but my insulin levels aren't what they should be.  This causes all sorts of problems that I found improved a lot on a ketogenic diet.  One thing that I seldom eat is rice because of the havoc it causes me.   So would Parish rice be any better?  Judging from the glycemic index, it has to be better.  Eating rice is virtually equivalent to eating table sugar, maybe worse.  Most people don't do that.  It's bad for you.  

I bought a bag of Parish rice and put it to the test today.  How did it go?  I took my blood sugar before eating it.  It was 102.  I ate probably 1 cup of cooked Parish rice with butter and a little salt.  It tasted good, just like standard rice.  About an hour later I took my blood sugar again.  169.  Oh no!  That's a spike.  It shouldn't be over 140 an hour after eating.  In fact, it's almost as high as I've ever seen my blood sugar go.  It will do that if I eat pie, for comparison.   This is disappointing.  What is my blood glucose now, 2 hours later?  It's 146 now, still a spike.   This is sad.  

On the other hand, I gave a bowl of Parish rice to my mother.  I tested her blood sugar first.  105.  OK.  An hour after she ate the Parish rice it was 107.  What?  

The good news is, my mother can tolerate Parish rice.  I don't think I'll be eating it again.  At least it's early enough in the day that it won't keep me awake all night.  

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Lepidoptera

 

Dreams

Away away ye beautiful dreams, 

But isn't it curious how

That it should seem to dreamers who dream 

That I might have forgotten you now?  

You must fly away like a bird of prey

For the dreams that take to the skies. 

You must catch them in a golden net 

Like you would a butterfly. 

By Helene Louise

Mayo Rebellion

I tried to make mayo today.  I am exhausted now, yet I have no mayo.  I have a container of nightmares.  

Unlike other mayo nightmares, I decided to attempt to fix this broken mayo.  I studied all the thoughts of mayo experts.  They said it was easy.  There were a couple of basic methods.  They all involved digging your grave deeper and deeper.   

One thing that I did differently is to use a new gelatin, because I ran out of the old one.  I bought the same brand, but was it the same?  It was in a new container design.  And when I mixed it up in water and drank it, it tasted different.  And a little worse.  Nah.  How could gelatin ruin mayo?  I double checked the recipe.  Well, I had done exactly what the recipe said to do.  OK, now I know why the site I got this recipe from took it down.  It's unpredictable.  

I made a second recipe.  The same fiasco happened.  

Now I was into this for four cups of expensive oil, one quart!  I began adding egg.  Blending.  By the time this was at the bitter end and I threw it away, one dozen eggs had followed the oil to nowhere, never to return.  It reminded me of using too much vinegar, except I used the same same same amount of vinegar as before.  I would put this out for some animal to eat, except even starving wild animals won't eat this.   They'll hiss at me and then scratch my eyes out.  

I'll be eating Hellman's mayo for a while.  

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