the Blethering Spot

II Samuel 18:33 And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept: and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!

During one of the myriad History of Music courses (for “Perceptive Listening”) I took in my teens, I came across Thomas Tomkins’ staggeringly beautiful contrapuntal lament “When David Heard that Absalom was Slain,” and it totally rocked my world! To me, this story is one of the most tragic parts of the Bible, and if you think it’s sad in text, you should hear it sung by a bunch of tonsured dudes in brown robes. In fact, you can have this experience by clicking here and listening to a tiny and static-y clip of it. Try it, you won’t be disappointed.

Too bad I didn’t realize back in 1990 that liking sacred music from the Renaissance wasn’t really that cool. Everyone else was playing Bon Jovi on their Walkmans, and there I was shedding tears over Palestrina and Monteverdi. Hello! Loser!

My daughter and I have been making pretzels today, for the first time ever. I actually decided to make them purely because I wanted a blog post with the above title, inspired by the Crash Test Kitchen. It just tickled my fancy.

Did you know that pretzels originated as early as 610 AD, at a monastery in southern France or northern Italy? Monks formed little scraps of dough into shapes to represent a child’s arms, folded piously in prayer. The three holes are meant to represent the Trinity.

Have a look at these fat babies. We found a Soft Pretzel recipe online, and followed it to the letter, except to make three different varieties: Garlic Parmesan, Poppy Seed and regular run-of-the-mill Coarse Salt Bagels. (The Garlic Parmesan ones were, far and away, the Shining Stars of All Pretzels.) I see now that we should have rolled the dough a bit skinnier. I hadn’t anticipated that they would rise quite so much, first during the boiling, then during baking. You can still see that they’re meant to be pretzels, though:

Sieg Heil! Heil das Pretzeln Oberfuehrer!

We had the most divine dinner last night, and I made the whole thing in 45 minutes flat. We had:

• Turkey breasts with Rosemary and Goat Cheese
• Fettuccine with Truffle Cream Sauce
• Spinach Salad with Raspberry Vinaigrette and Candied Pecans
• Cappuccino Mousse
• Summerhill Estate’s Gewurtztraminer

Sounds great, huh? It was actually dead easy. Here’s how to make the turkey breasts:

• 1-2 shallots, chopped
• 1 Tbsp olive oil
• 1 100g pkg goat cheese (I always use a herbed one, but it’s your call.)
• 3/4 tsp fresh rosemary, chopped
• 1/2 tsp crushed black peppercorns
• 1/8 tsp sea salt
• 2 large boneless, skinless turkey breasts

So. Heat the oil in a small saucepan, and sautee shallots and rosemary for few minutes. Remove from heat and stir in goat cheese, pepper and salt.

Pound the daylights out of the turkey boobs until they’re nice and flat. Spread the cheese filling over half of each of the turkey breasts, then fold or roll the half over, so you’re left with a nice little package. If you’re really into being impressive, you could roll them up attractively and secure them with toothpicks. Drizzle a little olive oil over them, and bake at 425 for about 20 – 25 minutes. Last night I baked them uncovered and they were tender, but the tops were a little too browned for my liking. Next time I might either cover the pan with tinfoil, or else try to get boneless, skin-on turkey.

I also think that I might make a little sauce out of the drippings next time – just a quick little boil down with a bit of water, because I bet that would be really tasty.

I should also admit that the cappuccino mousse totally didn’t turn out well, it was too sweet and not cappuccino-ish enough. Bummer.

I’ve had a very emotional morning. My daughter received her first overdue notice from the library. My heart swelled with pride and a real sense of achievement. She really is her mother’s daughter!

I reached an all time low last night, and checked blogs from work. Oy vey!

Do you know what makes me a little annoyed? When people don’t GO when they have the right of way. I was driving to work yesterday, and stopped at a two-way stop. I was turning left; a mini van opposite me was waiting to go straight. So as soon as there was an opportunity (and room for both of us to go if we didn’t drag our heels), I put ‘er into first and was ready to go as soon as the mini van went straight through the intersection. But the other driver just sat there, waiting for me to go. Of course I didn’t go – it wasn’t my turn. The guy going straight has the right of way at a two-way stop. So we sat there, totally missing that chance, and had to wait for another break in traffic. Then it happened again!

It tends to grind my gears when that happens. I’m not fond of being “waved ahead” when there’s no real reason. Now, I pride myself on being as Canadian as anyone, and I’ve got my fair share of that non-aggressive, “you-banged-into-me-with-your-shopping-cart-so-I’ll-apologize-and-smile-at-you” kind of Canadian nationalism going on. But there’s a time and a place, folks, and the intersection at Halliwell and Eby isn’t it. There’s a reason why we all follow the same rules on the road. You go, then I go, and we’re both happy.

But, on a lighter note, stay tuned for the upcoming “we’re going on holiday” post (and possible tropical template theme, subject to time constraints)!

** note: Post edited for unwonted, unbecoming-to-a-Christian-woman strong language **

I’ve begun to read Homer’s the Iliad, and am shocked to discover that I’m enjoying it. During Ancient History last week, I discovered (to my chagrin) that my grade 3 daughter is more familiar with Greek and Roman gods than I. We were reading a synopsis of the story of Odysseus and the Cyclops, and got sidetracked into a discussion of which Greek god was which. I said something breezily about Neptune, the god of the sea. A. corrected me – “No, Mom, I think Neptune is the Roman god of the sea. Poseidon is the Greek god of the sea. His name starts with that letter that looks like a little trident.”

Ah. I see. Silly me.

She went on to rattle off details about Mercury, Juno, Mars and Apollo, while I sat stunned, momentarily (and unfamiliarly) speechless.

About the only [major] god she didn’t know was Bacchus, so I shone in that five seconds of the conversation. I neglected to tell her that I have spent many lovely evenings paying tribute to Bacchus! (just kidding, of course)

Right, so I have decided that my Greek mythology needs a brushing up. I’ve started the Iliad, as mentioned, and am enjoying it tremendously! What a blast, I love the lofty language, not to mention the simple thrill I get from reading something which is thousands of years old. If only I could read it in Greek!

BTW, if anyone (ie/ Shan or Amy) knows which god (or demi god) had the wings on his heels, I’d appreciate a comment.

Am getting ready for my party! (Horray!) Have a look at these divine cookie cutters, with which I will make, especially for my Lady Friends, outrageously twee and whimsical cookies:

The cookie cutters were given me by my sister, aren’t they keen? This is the first opportunity I’ve had to use them properly for a bunch of chicks. I’m going to ice the cookies with Royal Icing, so perhaps I should invite a dentist friend to hand out her card each time someone breaks a tooth.

As well, I have made a nifty “Berry Ice Ring” for the punch bowl; cleverly freezing, in layers, juice with berries in it, in the quintessentially feminine Tupperware Jel-Ring Mold. This, obviously, looks not only smartly attractive, but also serves to prevent ice from melting in the punch and diluting it thereby.

What’s up with the weird English (not to mention the fifty commas) in that paragraph? Bizarre.

Off to work! As I told my daughter today, I owe the butcher for the meat and God for my soul. Tra la la! Have a great day, see you Sunday!

Hee hee, I have just realized that now I’ve gotten off the “M____ Thoughts” titles, I’ve moved into the “Un_____” titles. Doh!

Hum, haw, I’m trying to decide if I should make a bunch of links to people’s blogs. Here’s the thing, though – I wouldn’t know when to stop. I would be afraid of hurting someone’s feelings if I didn’t make a link, but what if I just forgot? Then they would be all offended, and it would be my fault.

But then, I like it when I see a link to “Gwen” on someone’s blog, waiting there all shiny and clean for someone to click on it and come to the Blethering Place! So perhaps you all would like it if I put your link on my blog. Don’t know. Perhaps a poll is in order….. (but I have to figure out how to put up a poll first, give me a couple minutes!)

(edit:) All right, I have figured out (through much trial and error) how to put up a poll in Blogger. But you know what’s really weird? The colour of the blog title changes, inexplicably, when I add the poll. Honestly, I’m going into the template to fix the colour, and it looks all peachy, nice and blue, but then it’s not changing. Bizarre. But you already know where you are. (hopefully)

Three posts in one day! I am the champion bletherer! (but I can’t seem to shake these creepy titles)

I just saw in Tamara’s blog that she was 9 in 1994. Oh my goodness… I spent 1994-95 traipsing around Europe by myself, catching trains hither and yon and drinking Goesser beer. I suddenly feel very elderly and tired. Soon I will start rocking in my chair, crocheting doilies and talking about the good old days.