I was having visions of sugared pastry
1. After all, we did not make lasagna in the toaster oven. We made it in our new oven, the first real test of its capabilities. It performed splendidly. At the point where the oven was preheating, the sauce was simmering on one burner, and the noodles were cooking on another, I had a sudden moment of "Motorcycle Song"-like clarity: it could be possible to cook for more than two people here. Which is not an invitation or anything, but it's really nice to know.
Anyway, the lasagna itself: about three-quarters my mother's recipe and one-quarter dinner improv theater, especially when we realized the meatballs were too juicy to stabilize with just a couple of tablespoons of Parmesan for binding. (Solution: half-cup of Parmesan.) Ground beef courtesy of my father, ground pork courtesy of M.F. Dulock's spicy country sausage. We started out sautéing them in a saucepan, where they promptly dissolved into a delicious browned meat slurry, so we shifted the survivors to the skillet and incorporated their fallen comrades into the tomato sauce. The noodles were sheets of black pepper pasta from Dave's Fresh which we cut to the dimensions of our casserole dish using the new chopper
derspatchel dubbed the Bang Zoom (seriously, I can't wait to try it on pizza), our cheeses fresh mozzarella and ricotta. Should have included more Parmesan, but we'd used it to hold the meatballs together. Slices of pepperoni were at this point overkill, but we studded the meat layers with them anyway. And then the whole thing baked for about thirty minutes and did I mention we have an oven? At this stage I am terrifically entertained by the fact that it has a light, and a spotlessly clean door through which its contents may be viewed while cooking, and the broiler makes a satisfying whoomph when it turns on. Between the barely solid meatballs, the soft fresh cheeses, and the homemade tomato sauce, the lasagna came out a little sloshy, but also incredibly savory, full of succulent burnt fat flavors and a nice balance between the heat of various peppers and the sweetness of cheese. A lot more of it vanished than I expected. We can finally make food with a leftover yield!
Unsurprisingly, we did not make oatmeal cookies as planned. Partly due to the sheer filling density of lasagna, but really neither of us could bring ourselves to add to the pile of dishes in the sink. There's two pots and a skillet in there already. Maybe tomorow.
2. These nineteenth-century font samples are some of the best writing prompts I've seen in months. "THE WIDOW, or Improved Cut Throat in Five Lessons" is a penny dreadful if I've ever heard one. Rob may have staked a claim on "Corner in the Umbrella Department Continually Drizzling." The cheapest Jacobean: "Weltering in His Gore for 25 Cents."
3. The original Gojira (1954) is playing at the Somerville for a week. We're going tonight. [edit] Not a sign of Raymond Burr. It's a story full of ghosts: of the war, of radiation and fire, of other ruined cities. Dr. Serizawa is so beautiful.
Anyway, the lasagna itself: about three-quarters my mother's recipe and one-quarter dinner improv theater, especially when we realized the meatballs were too juicy to stabilize with just a couple of tablespoons of Parmesan for binding. (Solution: half-cup of Parmesan.) Ground beef courtesy of my father, ground pork courtesy of M.F. Dulock's spicy country sausage. We started out sautéing them in a saucepan, where they promptly dissolved into a delicious browned meat slurry, so we shifted the survivors to the skillet and incorporated their fallen comrades into the tomato sauce. The noodles were sheets of black pepper pasta from Dave's Fresh which we cut to the dimensions of our casserole dish using the new chopper
Unsurprisingly, we did not make oatmeal cookies as planned. Partly due to the sheer filling density of lasagna, but really neither of us could bring ourselves to add to the pile of dishes in the sink. There's two pots and a skillet in there already. Maybe tomorow.
2. These nineteenth-century font samples are some of the best writing prompts I've seen in months. "THE WIDOW, or Improved Cut Throat in Five Lessons" is a penny dreadful if I've ever heard one. Rob may have staked a claim on "Corner in the Umbrella Department Continually Drizzling." The cheapest Jacobean: "Weltering in His Gore for 25 Cents."
3. The original Gojira (1954) is playing at the Somerville for a week. We're going tonight. [edit] Not a sign of Raymond Burr. It's a story full of ghosts: of the war, of radiation and fire, of other ruined cities. Dr. Serizawa is so beautiful.

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Nine
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"too juicy to stabilize"
is a phrase of surpassing beauty.
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Amateurs. Three pans, and you flake? Pfft! I don't feel I've cooked unless half the pot-rack is draped across the kitchen, and there's nowhere flat to put the last dish down.
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"FACTS ARE STUBBORN
The First Gun of the Season has been Fired"
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I'm going on Tuesday night with a couple of folks who are huge fans of Pacific Rim but have never seen the great original of kaiju fandom. High time. I am eager to see what they think of it all. I haven't seen it for years and then only on a laptop, so it will be refreshing for me to experience too.
Actually, I kind of want us all to attend in cosplay as Pacific Rim-inspired kaiju fans and kaiju black market organ salespeople, but I don't think we can organize that many white button-down shirts, skinny ties, and fake tattoos in this short a time.
I was actually a little afraid that the Somerville was playing the crappy edit released for Americans who apparently are only supposed to relate to white American guys (they advertised it as "Godzilla," after all) and I'm reassured to see that's not the case.
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Those font samples are pleasantly surreal. Although I would say that if "LAGER OR STEAM: Question of Supreme Importance" appeared in California it was most like to be merely a commonplace discussion of beer. Although it would be of historical interest that steam beer, derived from immigrant German brewers' use of their own lager yeast at ale temperatures, was being contrasted so bluntly with lager in 1892.
I've never seen the original Gojira. I'd much rather see it than the upcoming Hollywood Godzilla film that's being advertised on the television of late.
ETA: If any of my friends and I were inclined to start a moody indie rock band, I'd propose we should call ourselves "Castles of Indolence."
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