home_and_away: (moonbathing)
Apparently, the way to get me off my ass is to give me a cold.

This morning, I got a wild idea: if citron in honey eventually makes a good goo for making tea (seriously: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yujacha), I bet those sour, tiny orange-looking fruits on the tree Mel's Dad gave me will do it, too! So I wandered out to visit Mr. Tree and see if he had anyone ready for the table. And lo! Three fruits were ready to come in! So at eight this morning, I was sterilising a jar and washing fruit for another citrus tea preserve.

Won't know for a while how it's going--got to give the little kumquat/orange/I honestly don't know bits time to gel--a couple days till it's Food; a couple months till it's Itself.

Still.
:)
home_and_away: (Default)
So, to offer backstory for those who've just tuned in, a few years ago, my father was home from work (which is to say, that he was between contracts and so at home with Mom and underfoot), beset with a headcold. One night, Mom called to shoot the breeze and find out when next I'd be home, and Dad asked for the phone.

"What do you know that's good for a cold?" he asked me.
"Garlic, cranberry juice, broccoli, and sleep. Mostly sleep," I answered.
"Tried all of them. What else you got?"
"... Well. Here's an idea. You go out to Wal-Mart..."
"I hate Wal-Mart."
"I know, but unless McEwen or Waverly have spontaneously generated oriental grocery stores, it's the only place you're going to find a ginger root."
"Alright. What's that look like?"
"Rather like a doll, actually; it'll be in the produce area, in the refrigeration bins with the snap peas and beansprouts."
"Alright."
"So. Get a ginger root. Cut a chunk off about the size of the end joint of your thumb. Peel it, cut its surface, don't chop it unless you feel like fishing ginger bits out of your glass. Now. Do you still have that bottle of Crown you used to threaten me with?"
"Eyah. Oh, your mom's gonna love this."
"Mmhm. Medicinal purposes. Take a shot glass and drop your ginger lump in, cover it in whiskey, let it sit a while, then drink the whole thing and eat the ginger."

Silence on the line.
Then:
"And that'll help the cold?"
"You won't mind it quite as much, that's for certain."
"What do you recommend I do with the rest of the bottle?" he asked wryly, knowing how my mother hates an open bottle of booze in her house.
"Well, you can always cut more ginger into it..."
Dad laughed, Mom vetoed the idea, and I've been curious how the solution would've fared ever since.

Well.

Last week, I found a guinea pig. After two weeks of only being able to breathe through one nostril, I figured I had nothing to lose. So while Mark was over at Seamus's with Mike, doing gun things, I was curled up in a hot bath with The Last Unicorn and a variant of the Thumb Of Ginger/Shot Of Crown. )

Now, whether I owe the ability to breathe to the ginger, the uisge beatha, the steam, or the citrus/berry juice, I don't know.

But I must say, I'm pleased with the results...
home_and_away: (Pan)
I love the parties Mel throws. They're usually fairly subdued, unstructured affairs populated by all the people she loves, and if you're very very lucky, she'll cook.

The fun comes when you realise that "all the people she loves" means ALL the people--her parents, their kids, her friends from the SCA or highschool, their other halves if they have them, their kids, THEIR friends, her friends from other circles than previously noted, a few of THEIR friends, the lovely older couple from next door...I'm surprised we haven't taken a pizza guy or mailcarrier into the amoeba by accident, but I have faith that if we did, they'd fit in fine.

If I tried that trick, it'd go to cliqued hell.* But Mel? Mel is like water, bless her. We'd all dry up and blow away without her, and in her house, we melt or are shaken enough to mix well.

So.
Thanksgiving's coming (makes it sound like something dire out of George R. R. Martin... >.< ), and Mel's volunteered her home for Feasting Ground Zero. Listening to her plan a menu (my gods the food...), I asked whether I could bring anything more than an appetite. I do, after all, make a mean brew.**
And she smiles and writes "Apple Cider...thing" on the envelope she's using to plan.

"Spiked or un-spiked?" I asked, thinking of the honey brandy in my Fridge of Doom.

"Oh, unspiked, please. We have elderly folk coming."
"Being elderly doesn't automatically make you a teetotaller; there's this guy who frequents Chips who's got to be on the far side of 80, but..."
"BAPTIST elderly people. And kids."
"Point made, there, yes."
"... But if you want to bring the spikings in their own container..."
"Dig it. I've been wondering how the Brew would go with the meadjack."
"Mmm." and she smiles and picks up her phone to call her dad's wife, to make sure she will in fact bring some other dish.

"And Jess's going to bring an Apple Cider...Thing."
...
"No, there're elderly people on the guestlist."
...
"Well yes, I know you do, but these are BAPTIST elderly people."
...
"Exactly."

While she's doing this, Mark calls. We chat for a while and Mel wraps up her call, then asks to talk to Mark for a second. I hand the phone over, grinning while she notifies him that his house will be supplying the Apple Cider...Thing for Thanksgiving, Friday. A pause while Mark talks, then:

"No, there're elderly people coming."
...
"BAPTIST elderly people."
...
"Yes."

So naturally, when you've been told the one thing not to do three times, what's your first instinct?

Liz and Cae brought some apple wine from Courson's *** with them when they came guesting in October; I wonder whether we can get it brandied well in four days...











*- Example: my first wedding. But then, there's not a lot you can do when your guests are either within two years of your age and Pagan, or at least a decade your senior and Baptist. Or Church of Christ. ~headshake~

**- Although it still can't hold a candle to the Fire Cider for the purpose of kicking illnesses' collective ass.

***- Which reminds me: FINALLY! A BLOODY MAP THERE! Sweet. Now all we need is an excuse to go to the ass end of Georgia, now that we no longer have friends in Charleston. Have to see what sort of events the shire of Sol Haven has planned... :D God bless the SCA.

HA!

Apr. 8th, 2007 09:12 am
home_and_away: (World of Hurt)
Longtime sufferers... that is, readers... will remember my coldweather crack about a thumbjoint of ginger and a shot of whisky curing the common cold.

I've found a Hungarian recipe that's not far removed from that.
Yah, justification!!!!!!
...
...
Okay, so the only thing they really have in common is the whiskey, and that gets set ablaze....
But I still think the ginger would make a nice addition to this one. Shave it fine and cook it with the lemon, chew it all up when you've downed the liquid.

Vitamin C to help the immune system; a nice pungent heat to burn off the cold...
Makes sense to me anyway...

EDIT, 11APR07:
Brni's ladylove Linda wins.
Go check out her Fire Cider in the comments. Wow.
home_and_away: (Pan)

What kind of pirate am I? You decide!
You can also view a breakdown of results or put one of these on your own page!
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey



I always intend to remember this holiday and never do until it's upon me. All for the best, I suppose, because at the moment I'm four books into Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey and Maturin series and when all is quiet in my mind, the only thing I see is a sneezy sloth tugging at Jack's sleeve eyeing him sweetly for more grog and cake. All I hear later is "JACK! You've debauched my sloth!"

Give me the opportunity and I can bluster like an overweight post-captain or enthuse like an underfed Irish/Catalan spy.

But I haven't yet found that verbal swagger particular to a pirate.

Maybe later in the series, when Jack goes privateer.
Ah well.
Here.

Have a personal-serving sized grog mix until then:
from Lissuns in the Galley's rum section. Lissuns in the Galley, for what it's worth, also seems to be maintained by folk with a soft spot in their hearts for yon post-captain and spy.

1 shot rum
1 teaspoon superfine sugar
Squeeze of lime juice
Cinnamon stick
Boiling water

Stir all ingredients, adding enough boiling water to fill mug or glass.
home_and_away: (Default)
Since I was pregnant with Dae, I've gotten an ear infection every winter. The good news is, Dae's eardrums've thus far been perfect--I think I gave him what resistance I'd built.
This year, I thought I dodged the bullet: December came and went sans otitis media, and January was fastly fading...
Then Friday I woke up with an exceptional idea of where my eustacian tube was.
Guess what.
Damn it.

So yeah. The search for large, pretty, simple scarves begins anew. Because it seems the only way to skip out on Divine humor is to keep the wind out of my ears.

In the meantime, I get to get well-aquainted with all the acupressure points for the relief of sinus tension, tinnitus, and earache; I also get to figure out how one modifies one's diet so as to exorcise a Cold, Dry Wind from one's system. (I've got enough Vata to deal with, just in my nature; I don't need any outside help.)

Great study op for the Oriental Theory section of the NCETMB (which I've applied for, finally!!!). Yeah. Thanks, God. Nice of you. >.<

Today's experiment:

Fruit Juice Suicide.
In the container of your choice, combine
50% apple cider (unclarified, if you can get it)
20% orange juice
20% pomogranite (or cranberry) juice
10% lemon juice

If your container is mug-sized, add one stick of cinnamon and a chunk of ginger root roughly the size of a pencil eraser, washed and scored with a knife.

If your container is pot-sized, add three sticks cinnamon and a chunk of ginger the size of the end-knuckle of your thumb, washed and scored.

If your container is mug-sized, microwave the concoction for roughly two minutes. It should be nice and warm, but not scalding.

If your container will withstand being heated on a stovetop, bring it to a nice rolling boil and then let simmer quietly on a back burner for a while. The longer the simmer, the thicker the mix, the stronger the taste.

In the drinking of the concoction, when you come to the chunk of ginger? Don't be a pantywaist--chew it up and swallow. It's nowhere near as pungent now as it would be raw, and it's good for you.
~grin~

I know, I know, again with the thumbjoint of ginger.
Trust me here; for once I'm testing this shit out on myself.
It may not touch the ear infection, but it'll kick the sore throat's ass.
One mug down, and I already feel more human than I have in the past 48 hours.
I'm going back for more...
home_and_away: (Pan)
Kim's decided that if the scent of baking cookies sells a house faster, maybe the scent of spiced cider boiling on the stove will bring folk into the shop from the cold.

If nothing else, it will ensure that the ciderfiends who work here will be up on their Vitamin C doses.

I think it started out as a little jug of apple juice, another little jug of cherry juice, about five cinnamon sticks, maybe a clove or six, and unholy amounts of powdered strawberry lemonade mix.

She just got done selling $125 worth of gift certificates to one woman, twenty minutes before the Open sign is due to light. I'd say we're doin' alright.

(from the background: ~Kim giggles~ Well, we'll definately be hopped up on the sugar, anyway.)

So yeah. Between that and the Latino rap/hip-hop (woohoo, Ozomatli and XM radio!), I've got a peppy day ahead of me. Yesterday was booked to the gills; today will probably drag, but hey, I'll be back on Monday, so there's hope. Life is good.
home_and_away: (Pan)
Cheapo "costume" today: "Portrait of the artist in High School"--Adam's black cords and "I Leave Bite Marks" shirt, hair in high pigtails, the usual cold-weather year-and-a-half-old boots. I'm debating painting up tonight.

Somehow, celebrating the dead while pregnant is...really bloody odd.

Anyhow, a couple of recipies for the season and so I don't lose them. Good stuff here.
Atole )

And despite the fact that it's technically a "Christmas drink, Wassail ) because the smell of it is right.

Happy veil-thinning, all.

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