RavingBits's Open Salon Blog

Two Wheels and a Chain: What Could Possibly Go Wrong?!

Wed, 21 Jul 2010 14:07:36 -0400

When I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the future of the human race. ~H.G. Wells

I have this fantasy where I’m lazily riding my trusty bicycle around town, the artificial breeze flirting with my skirt-hem, donating forbidden glimpses of my gartered stockings and lacy undergarments to those observers with good timing. Then, I stop by a roadside fruit stand and sample a juicy peach at the farmer’s urging; possibly because he wants to watch me negotiate the sticky sun-warmed juices, with lewd hopes that his peach will coerce me into sexily licking errant drips here and there. I realize this, blush at the flattery and buy a few to carefully place into my handlebar basket, along with some fresh flowers I found a few miles back, to put in the pretty garage-sale Limoges vase wrapped in the Sunday funnies in there, as well.

This will never happen.

Well, not while I’m lucid. Or while I’m abstaining from huffing electronics duster in a can.

There are several reasons why… first and foremost,

1. I never learned to ride a bike. It just never came up. I was raised in the semi-rural part of a suburb where we had no sidewalks and gravel driveways not conducive to 2-wheelers. My brother (the most fearless person I’ve ever known) learned on the lawn, and rode a used mountain bike we got at the Eddie’s Bike and Cheese Shoppe through the woods, through mud puddles, through garbage piles, through everything under the sun like some kind of late-night-infomercial-wonder-appliance. Not me, no way. There are several sub-factors to this:

a. I’m epically clumsy. I have tripped over nothing and had to get eleventeen stitches for it. Every friend and family member has a unique “favorite fall” story starring me. It’s bad.

b. I’m pretty fat. This is largely due to 1a, but as an awkward kid, I stuck to doing things that wouldn’t embarrass me in public, and as I got bigger, that list grew exponentially to include things like “participating in gym class,” “eating in front of people,” and “talking.” I’m less fat in relation to the general populous nowadays, thanks to High Fructose Corn Syrup and such, but, still… on a bike, I think it would be kind of scary. Unless, perhaps, I could get a sign or something that said, “shut up, I’m working on it, see?” for the fender.

c. I have an irrational fear of broken glass. I am convinced that if I fall on the ground in the city, that I will have thousands of shards of glass enter my blood stream and either give me a whole new strain of hepatitis or secretly make their way into my circulatory system cutting me to shreds internally in a way that even the best coroner would never figure out.

d. Nobody can seem to teach an adult to ride. Helpful hints like, “well, come on, just do it!” or “I dunno, you pedal, you steer, you brake, it’s really easy!” and “it works like a gyroscope,” have been offered to help turn on the ol’ lightbulb – but nothing seems to stick. I mean, it’s supposed to be the easiest thing ever – people say all the time, “it’s just like riding a bike,” to mean “it’s something you just inherently know how to do on instinct.” Unfortunately, defining a thing using that thing as the definition is a loop error that I can’t seem to overcome.

e. I don’t currently have health insurance. Bankruptcy seems an uneven trade for trying to learn to save bus fare.

2. I don’t own a bike. Or safety equipment, or lights, or a handlebar basket, or a messenger bag, or skinny jeans with one cuff rolled way up… Of course, most of that is related to reason #1, but, they’re expensive! And there are so MANY different kinds! And the hipsters at the bike shop chuckle when you say you want one that makes me look like this (with better eyebrows):

And, there are probably other reasons, but that pinup girl is making me forget most of them for now. The thing is, I now live in a city where all the cool kids (and most of the uncool kids) are biking to everywhere, with the added implication that my non-biking basically precipitated the Gulf Oil Spill. You’re welcome. I never liked oysters, anyway. Also, my loving man-friend is urging me to learn to ride with cute little verbal slips like “we should ride our bikes down to the park, it’ll be so romantic!” Wherein, I have to remind him for the ga-millionth time of items #1 and #2 above, and he says something like “oh yeah, oh well. I guess we can get drunk and watch a DVD again.”

So really, if anyone has any pointers… they probably couldn’t hurt. Much.

*image with great courtesy of the guy whose name is scribbled on it, Harvey Somethingorother, who is probably not even reading this.

Foodie Tuesday: Eat like a whore!

Tue, 4 May 2010 12:05:04 -0400

Spaghetti alla Puttanesca, which literally translates to "whore's spaghetti," is a tasty, tangy, salty dish that can rescue you on one of those nights when it seems like there's nothing to make for dinner. I love olives, so, this is pretty much my new favorite thing -- I can't believe it took me 35 years to try it!!

The Myth

According to Wikipedia (the source for all of Earth's truths) the story goes: in the fabulous 1950's, a restaurant owner had a few friends drop in right before closing time. He said he didn't have enough ingredients to make them a proper meal; and since it was late and they were hungry (and likely completely blotto) they replied, "facci una puttanata qualsiasi," or "just make any kind of garbage." (Puttanata = something worthless, puttana = whore.) And so, with just a couple tomatoes, some condiments/garnishes, and of course garlic and olive oil, spaghetti alla puttanesca was born.

Another version of the story reminds us that in the 1950's, brothels were state-run (in Italy), and while housewives had all week to shop for fresh ingredients, these "working women" only had one day a week to shop, so their signature pasta sauce was a compilation of mostly pantry items.

Whichever is the truth -- this is delicious... and there's something awesome about knowing that your spaghetti sauce is this naughty-sexy.

The Method

First, survey your ingredients on hand: you'll need a tomato or two, or a handful of cherry tomatoes, halved. Or, a can of diced tomatoes from the pantry, or a little tomato paste. (My favorite of those options is the halved cherry tomatoes.) You'll also need 1/2 an onion to cut the vinegary tang of everything with a little sweetness. Make sure you have a couple cloves of garlic, minced garlic from a jar, or some garlic powder. The rest is kind of variable: Olives are key, without those, you're not really making puttanesca (even though what you end up with will still be lovely.) So, grab some olives, green, black, purple, stuffed, whatever. If you have any other pickle-y pantry items like pepperoncini, giardiniera, jalapenos, get those, too. They recommend capers, but not everyone has those. Also, anchovies or anchovy paste. Also, any fresh herbs about to die in your crisper.

And, if you must, prepare a protein of your choice: shrimp, tofu, chicken, beef, pork -- leftover is better (truer to the tradition), but if you're starting from fresh, cook this first before starting everything else, and put off to the side.

Next, if you are an actual whore, clear your appointments for about 30 minutes. Also, wash your hands. In fact, wash them anyway, since you never know. Also, remember to make enough for your pimp.

Then, start water to boil.

Now, chop up your sauce ingredients: if your olives have pits, cut them out. Chop larger olives into pieces about pea-size. Dice the onion, mince the garlic. Cut up tomatoes (and put aside in a separate container). When all is said and done, you're going to want about 2-3 cups or a biggish cereal-bowl full of little bits and pieces, not counting the tomatoes.

Drop spaghetti in boiling water. Cook for 11 minutes, or as long as the package says.

Meanwhile, start the sauce in a shallow pan, like a big frying pan:

Cover the bottom of the pan in oil, around 4Tbsp should do. Over medium-high heat, when the oil starts to get "fast" (moves more like water in the pan than like thick oil), add your bits and pieces to sizzle. If you happen to have an anchovy, or a tube of anchovy paste, add a little of that, now. Black pepper, too, unless you have hot chili peppers in your choppy bits. Don't add salt. There is plenty of salt in those olives.

If you're drinking wine (as you should be), give a splash to your whores, there. Turn down the heat. Add tomatoes and toss.

Simmer, simmer, wait for pasta noodles to finish. You might take this time to freshen your eyeliner or do some kegels.

Drain spaghetti, combine with sauce in pan.

Grate fresh parmesan/romano on top.

Add a festive flourish of fresh chopped parsley, if you have that.

Serve with wine and bread, and the money's on the dresser, babe.

The Money Shot

The Afterglow

This would also make an awesome pizza, sandwich, bruschetta, or dip. Olives, tomatoes, garlic -- the possibilities are endless. Traditionally, the people who insist on protein go for a white fish, cooked gently over the simmering sauce. I tossed mine with pan-fried x-firm tofu cubes for a hearty meatless dinner. Chickpeas would do well, there, too.

Gosh, just thinking about it again makes me want to go put on some lingerie and get to work.

Bitches, man...

Fri, 9 Apr 2010 11:04:41 -0400

Reading around at a few blogs this week, I’ve started to wonder if I’m blitheringly insane, or if I’m just missing out on one of the great clandestine joys of womanhood: being a complete bitch.

Do all women secretly hate each other?

I admit that I’ve had a hard time getting and keeping lots and lots of female friends; I just can’t seem to click with most girls. Women seem to me to be easily insulted, quick to pass judgment, willing to tell lies and secrets and play mind games, thrilled to hate others for stupid reasons, excited to end a heated debate with baring fangs to each other and just going for the kill.

I’m hardly ever insulted, I rarely enjoy judging others; instead, I try to approach life open-mindedly, even if unpopular, in order to gain a better understanding of how the world works. I make efforts to point out exceptions to stereotypes in an effort to help someone realize that we’re not really all that different. But, I don’t live on the fringe and shirk majority opinion just because it’s majority opinion. And because I refuse to engage in girl-wars on this or that, I get dropped as a hang-out pal. Evidently, I'm doing it wrong.

I do have a few bitchy urges. I seldom obey them, though, perhaps due to all the psychology training. They come quicker when someone is being unfair to someone I love and it’s hurting them… whether the person bullied be my mate, mom, pop, friend, brother, or whomever. And, I will defend my heart. So, are other women just more loving than I am? That they extend that umbrella of defense and protection to people (real and imaginary) that they barely know and with only part of the backstory? Are they more giving of their hearts? If so, then, I’m even more confused.

It seems that women come together easily when they find common ground, and that fortunately happens quite often. We have lots in common. But, does that ground reset every morning? Do I have to prove my sisterhood over and over just to enjoy the bubble of protection that some banshees are using to declare war on other people? Is it so fragile that I can get kicked off one plot of common ground for stepping on common ground with someone else – is it that black and white? Or maybe, like gang initiation or something, you can’t be in the club until you bring in proof of your allegiance. A scalp. A horsehead in an enemy’s bed. Don't dare sit at the freak-table during lunchtime.

If a person compliments another woman on her outfit, does that automatically imply that mine is ugly?

If a person says "I like your haircut," should I insinuate that she’s oppressed by anti-feminist ideals of womanly beauty and a victim of corporate manipulation into wanting soft and manageable tresses?

When a person asks another woman, "have you lost weight?" Do I immediately need to wonder if she’s probably cheating on her husband, or her taxes, or at scrabble and other heinous acts in which I do not indulge and are clearly preventing me from burning calories?

If a person says "great shoes, I could never wear heels like that," should I assume that the next step for this poor girl is a lifetime of horrors that she’s bringing upon herself for opting not to wear flip-flops like mine, because men never mistreat women who wear comfortable shoes?

If so, I can clearly see that I’m doing it wrong. I believe that women have earned the freedom to feel comfortable and confident in themselves enough to know that their life is the right life for them, and their choices are good. (For them.) That they are lucky in life to be loved and appreciated for the things that matter to them; and that a compliment is just a compliment – not a bold social statement of misogynistic ideals.

Why is it that can’t we all just be kind to one another, lengthen our fuses, and if you disagree with someone (a very likely scenario), feel more free enough to say so… but without the fangs. Mom always told me that pointing a finger at someone leaves three pointing back at you, and she’s got a point. Of course, she IS a woman, too, so… maybe I need to be careful about what I believe, haha.

Of course, I know that men can be quite vicious, too… people in general act horrible in lots of ways, and I wish they didn't, but… I was always (mis)lead as a girl to believe that women have a special solidarity; now I see that it’s one that they seem to be allowed to pick and choose to whom it applies….that said… tell me why you disagree. I’m interested in knowing: what makes women turn bitchy? If I embrace my inner bitch, will I be happier? What am I doing wrong, that being mean to someone just doesn't feel that good to me?

Torman's OC -- Why Do I Write? For Connection

Thu, 11 Mar 2010 17:03:57 -0500

Psychologists and Philosophers and People in general can talk for hours about basic human needs, and one that always comes up is Attachment. I find my attachment in connection, and that's why I write. In an attempt to connect to other people, I blog and comment and participate in things like Open Calls.

I've always been a connector. I'm fortunate to live close enough to walk to work. The difference between walking and driving is definitely connection, and being able to see more of the neighborhood than my dashboard. I talk to people all day long, and love it... because having your voice heard, having your eyes contacted, having your mind opened are some of life's great pleasures.

Think on it, the best part of fishing isn't the casting or baiting, it's the exciting nibble on the end of your line. The best part of cooking isn't stirring or chopping, it's tasting the food. The best part of loving someone isn't just the chase, it's the win. The best part of changing a light bulb isn't the grabbing hot glass accidentally, it's the elimination of darkness. The best part of a puzzle isn't spreading all the pieces out, it's the satisfying snap of finding the right place for one. The best part of finding your religion or discussing your values isn't the reading or arguing, but the solidification of beliefs in your soul... Connection.

We all long to connect, and I'm fortunate to have connected with some amazing people recently who help bring it all together for me and brighten my days. Thank you, Open Salon, and especially thank you Torman, for reminding us why we persist here.

Foodie Tuesday: Better Than Takeout Sweet And Sour Pork

Tue, 2 Mar 2010 13:03:38 -0500

Sweet and Sour was always a 'guilty pleasure' when thinking of ordering Chinese takeout food; battered, fried meat nuggets and pineapple bits with unnaturally bright sweet syrup = yummy, but a little scary. So, this version is not only a tad healthier and totally customized to your preferences, but it also avoids the 'rush home and break all the traffic laws before the nuggets go soggy' perils on account of the much shorter commute from stove to belly at home. Granted, it's not diet-food, but it is largely "real" food, under your complete control and supervision, which is more than I can say for some takeout places. I hope you try this, it's shockingly easy, and soooooooo good. Fair warning: I was never good with precision measurements, so, the structure of this recipe is going to be a little unnerving for those of the Type-A persuasion. I tried to bold the ingredients in case you need some kind of list, but this is a good pantry-purger -- just use what you have on hand.

First, start the rice. I always forget to do that early enough, and I end up waiting on it... I hate that. Especially since I use brown rice, and it takes like an hour. So, do yourself and start the rice now, if you want some.

Second, prep all your veggies and stuff by chopping into bite-sized pieces: 2-3 Carrots, 1-2 Celery ribs, 1 Onion, 1 Green Pepper, 1 Pineapple (canned or fresh, if using canned, save the liquid to use in the sauce), other vegetables if you wish (aiming for 1-2 cups vegetables per person), and Pork (I had some thick-cut pork chops taking up freezer space, but this works with pork roasts, chicken, beef, or even tofu. Heck, go nuts and use them all.)

Toss the Meat Cubes in 1/2 cup cornstarch, (the shaking-in-a-bag method works well for this) coating completely and evenly.

Heat up 1-2 tablespoons vegetable oil to medium-hot in a big skillet or wok, and add the meat, browning on all sides of the cubes. If your pan is too hot, the coating will darken too quickly and start to smoke, so watch closely and turn down the flame as needed. Don't overcrowd your pan, if you need to work in batches, do so, removing cooked pieces to a plate.

Meanwhile, start your sauce in a medium-to-large sauce pan (This is where those Type-A's are going to really hate me) by mixing:

1 cup of something wet: I used OJ, but broth/stock, tomato soup, wine, Soda Pop, the leftover juice from the pineapple bits, or even plain water works just fine. Avoid something creamy, that would just be too strange.
1/3 cup Vinegar (I used red wine vinegar, but apple cider vinegar is recommended, distilled white vinegar is fine, but avoid balsamic for this, it's just not sour enough, not to mention it would be appalled at being in the same pot with the next ingredient)
1/4 cup Ketchup (sounds gross, I know, but it turns the sauce that familiar red and adds a lot of flavors that you just can't create from the spice rack, if you hate or don't have ketchup, do be sure to try a couple tablespoons of tomato paste or strawberry jam)
1T Soy Sauce
Salt (optional) if you used something salty to start with, you probably won't need more. Soy Sauce is also salty. Taste first.
Sugar (optional) if you used something sweet to start with, you probably won't need any. Although, even though I started with OJ, I added about 1/4 cup (a.k.a. a handful) of brown sugar. Honey works as a lovely sugar substitute in the sauce, as does maple syrup.

Feel free to customize to your taste:
I like it hot, so I also added about 2T Sriracha Garlic Chili Sauce. Highly recommended.
I'm shamelessly addicted to garlic, so I added 2 cloves, crushed. Not advised for vampires.
My fella likes ginger, so, I added some of that, too. I think it makes the whole thing taste more 'oriental,' which is a plus.

After getting as creative as you care to be with your ingredients, bring the sauce up nearly to a boil, dissolving all the gloppy ketchup bits and rendering yourself a smooth hot syrupy soup of joy. Carefully (it's hot!) taste as you go: salt, sour, or sweeten as needed. Turn the heat down to a simmer while you're finishing browning the meat.

When the meat is all browned, and the sauce is smooth and tasty, plop the meat cubes right into the sauce to finish cooking while you address the vegetable stir-fry.

I like my pineapple browned a bit, so, I stir fry it with the veggies. That's weird for some people, and if you are one of them, just plop the pineapple chunks in the sauce right now.

Add vegetables to pan/wok, using a little more oil if needed. (I add a pat of butter here, because it browns things, and I'm into that, but if you're watching fats, skip it.) Try to add the vegetables in order from longest cooking time to shortest, starting with carrots or something, ending with more delicate things like green peppers or pineapple.

Your kitchen will now smell amazing. You're welcome. Almost ready.

When the veggies are tender, the meat/sauce will probably be ready for you, too. If you're not sure, fish out a piece of pork and cut it in half to check. If it's not yet done, let them continue to simmer 10 more minutes, tops. When the meat is cooked, then add the contents of the saucepan to the vegetables in the big skillet/wok and stir it all together. The cornstarch coating of the meat cubes will likely have thickened the sauce, as will have the simmering time and sweet ingredients, but if your sauce is still too runny, grab a small jar or tupperware container with a tight lid and shake together 2 tablespoons of cornstarch with 1/4 cup cold water. Add the slurry to the sauce, and crank up the flame to bring the liquid to a boil. Once boiling, it will thicken very quickly with that familiar clear gel-like wonder of chinese food glaze that comes from cornstarch thickening. Cut the flame, and serve with rice.

No need to tip the delivery guy.

No need for pants.

So much better than takeout.