neonleonb

The strongest argument for vegetarianism and animal rights I've ever heard comes from Vernor Vinge, the sci-fi author. He thinks that within about a generation, we'll produce superhuman intelligence, by AI or biology or some other trick. How, he wonders, will those people treat us? Will they consider us as we consider animals? If we want them to treat us well, should we not treat animals well?

This argument works on me because it points at a clear similarity between humans and animals: neither of us is the next step, and what happens to both of us will depend on how we raise our heirs. So let us now found a belief that we should treat our inferiors as well as we'd like our superiors to treat us.

Saturday: spent dancing, eating amaretto/chocolate bon-bons and reading Vernor Vinge.

Sunday: I went to fly a few practice flights on the training hills at Ed Levin. But I lucked upon one of the liftiest days the East Bay has seen this spring. There were maybe 20 other pilots there, and some people stayed aloft for nearly 2 hours. I again flew in the wrong spots, so I came down after about half an hour; but the other people who came over to the same region as me did the same thing, so it's not that I was a terrible pilot. So, my second soaring flight ever! Go me.

In summary: I live the good life.

Lunch: red beans and rice
Snack 1: Beemster cheese
Snack 2: kimchi
Dinner: refried bean burritos

I might be going a bit overboard on the beans, cabbage, and cheese today. The only good news is that my jog in the rain this morning is the closest I'll get to human interaction, so I'll be able to fart with wild abandon all evening.

I have beheld the power of cheese, and I found myself transfixed by its monstrosity. Our ancestors who first began to culture cheese knew not what they wrought, and their creation has far outlived them. Unknowingly, they brought forth a force greater than man was ever meant to possess. Indeed, one wonders whether he truly possess it, or if instead it possesses him.

It is thus with a heavy heart that I call for interculinary disarmament. Let us all set aside our cheeses, together. I urge the UN to set up a special Cheese Inspection Task Force to help ensure that all equipment for its manufacture are truly destroyed and not merely hidden. Oh, surely some poor misguided people will attempt to continue producing cheeses in secret, but at least we can attempt to reduce the risk of cheese contaminating the great melting pot that is our world.

I would like to leave you with one last idea to ponder: if power corrupts, does not the Power of Cheese corrupt cheesily?

So, you ask, how did the duck go? Well, for starters, buying a duck at a Chinese store (Ranch 99) means that I got more duck than I'd expected. In particular, it had a head and feet. They weren't hard to cut off, but still I hadn't expected to have to behead it with its beady little eyes staring me down. 

I made a plum sauce according to the advice of Nancy, another grad student: I sauteed shallots in butter until they were translucent, then added "a tart liquid" and my plum jam, and simmered that for a while. The recommended tart liquids included vinegar (augh, the most horrible liquid invented) and sherry, but I used pomegranate juice with a small splash of vinegar. In any case, it ended up being very good, and I'm writing it down here in part so I can look it up for next time.

Then, while the duck baked, I cut the fat from its neck and used that to fry up some potatoes, which ended up quite tasty. Seasonings: onion powder, garlic powder, paprika, cayenne pepper, salt. I'll have to do that again.

Frankly, the duck didn't end up as well as it should have. It was supposed to have a crispy skin, but the skin on the breasts should've been cooked longer. I have a theory that my oven isn't as hot as it's supposed to be. The duck's meat was tasty anyway, especially with that delicious plum sauce, but next time I'll try to do it right.

And, how did my date like the duck? Well, she's apparently sick right now, so there was no date. I'm not entirely sure that she wants a second date at this point, but I'll try to stay reasonably optimistic until my final rejection. I really did think our first date went well, but since then I haven't exactly gotten positive signals. I mean, really, I haven't gotten any signals, and this is a case where no news certainly isn't good news.

While waiting for rejection, though, I'm doing everything I can with that duck. I'm boiling its bones (and neck) for stock, and I rendered its fat. I don't know how to make jewelry from its bones, or I'd probably try that, too. I have a vision, though: matzo ball soup, in duck stock, with matzo balls made with duck fat. That will be far and away the most exotic use of matzo I've ever made.

Oh, and between the many uses of duck and the chocolate mousse I made for tomorrow's Thanksgiving potluck, I really was cooking all day. Consider: 4 hours of duck baking, 4 hours of stock making, and the interim was filled with all the other stuff. I guess I'm nearly ready to be a stay-at-home father.

On Sunday, I went on an excellent date with a Woman of the Net. Yes, I'm practicing Internet dating, because the Computer Science department doesn't have many women, and I don't have occasion to interact with many people outside of the department. In any case, I met a very interesting and attractive woman, we saw a great taiko drum performance, and we already have a planned date for Friday evening. I happen to have a duck in my fridge right now, and I'll cook it up, and she'll bring wine, and everything will be splendid.

So here's where you come in: how can I prepare the duck in a fancy way? The Joy of Cooking tells me how to bake a duck, and it sounds good, but I'd like to take advantage of my special ingredients: I have homemade plum jam and homemade pomegranate molasses. Surely one of those will go well with the duck. Now, the Internet has a little bit of advice, but the recipes I found all call for cooking the duck at a much higher temperature than the Joy of Cooking does, and I'm inclined to trust the Joy. The Joy has a recipe for orange sauce to go with your duck, and I could probably adapt that to use plum jam instead of orange marmalade, but it's not clear that's best. So what can I do with a duck and some plum jam, or maybe some pomegranate molasses?

Ruth brought me back some sausage from Italy. When I ate it (with scrambled eggs and cheese), I was filled with energy and played badminton hard all evening and was still energetic at the end of it. Today, I had some salami at ICSI's tea, and my officemate keeps remarking that I'm in an odd, energetic mood. Evidently, sausage is the fuel that really makes me go; now I'll have to keep watching for more sausage/energy correlation. All the more reason not to become a vegetarian, not that I was at risk of that.

Persimmons are just bizarre. squeakywheel wrote about how she loves them, so I tried one, and it was just weird. To be fair, I think it was going bad (they're supposed to be soft, but not that soft), but it's still a bizarre experience. I'm always interested in trying exotic fruits, but these, while sweet, have an odd texture and taste. I have one more, and I'll try to eat it before it gets so soft, but I don't hold high hopes.

We need some new continents, for food purposes if nothing else. Consider that in the Old World (i.e. Europe, Asia, Africa), they didn't have any tomatoes, potatoes, or avocados. But in the New World, they didn't have any wheat, rice, olives, mangoes, or apples. And the Australians gave us, well, kangaroos and drop bears.

Pretty much everyone depends on staples from another continent. Indian food would be odd without tomatoes or potatoes, Italian would be crazy without tomatoes, and where would Mexican food be without rice? I guess China still sticks pretty well to the local staples; not too many tomatoes or potatoes around. But still, how could you have good stir fry without mini-corn?

The point is this: if we were to discover another continent, just imagine all the great food we'd find. Within a couple of decades, no one could live without it.

I once came up with a joke that you could tell on stage. It's not that it's the only time I've been funny, it's just the only time that my humor actually fit well into a neat package. The joke was inspired at the last summer Olympics because of Michael Phelps, and it goes like this:

So, I read that Michael Phelps eats 8000 calories a day. 8000 calories. That's enough to feed a family of 4. Well, if you eat like a family of four, you're going to have to shit like a family of four. And that's why he swims so fast--he's got to get out so he can go to the bathroom.

But my joke was ruined today when I read this story about Michael Phelps (please excuse the link to Fox News). Apparently he now eats 12000 calories, thus making me modify the family of 4 to a family of 6. That bastard! That hungry, hungry, oh my god he ate my hand oh god get a doctor, bastard!

So, Megan was telling me about making some sort of food with potatoes and cheese, and you fill up a dough shell with that and then seal it and boil them. And I said, holy crap, you make pirogies?! And she said, you know what they are?? So, the story is that we both have Polish backgrounds, and about once a year our families spend an afternoon making pirogies, which we eat with sautéed onions and butter. It's such a bizarre, awesome connection.

What should I eat for dinner? Roast beef? Omelet? Roast beef omelet? So many choices!

In case you haven't noticed, not having Kate around has made me post many more irrelevant things. I need someone to listen to me!