Tuesday Tasks

A new coffee, contemplating ‘grains’, and needing to tidy up. As for the last: I needed a postage stamp, which necessitated combing through a box of miscellany, leading Ms. S., whose box it was, to realize and proclaim that the office is in need of cleaning. In not so many words.

I. Repairs

Remember that new water heater ‘they’ put in a week ago or so? It leaks a bit, usually after showers, after the hot water is depleted. Is the new heater refilling too much? Is there an actual ‘leak’ somewhere? Ms. S. put down towels; otherwise it leaks on the dryer. But we were not at first sure … was this, perhaps, just a matter of “breaking in” the new appliance? If so, we’d watch it, pay attention, report and record … and if it leaked no longer we would forget and forgive.

This morning it leaked after my shower; I heard it dripping. I shot some video of it as a record. Then I was off around noon to the apartment main office.

Our dishwasher is old and grumbly. These days it sounds as if something is in near the motor and grinding away. The ‘water’ part of the whole contraption sounds fine, and it’s almost soothing to hear it spraying around rhythmically inside. But grind, grate, grumble? No, thank you. And when the maintenance dude was out last week replacing the AC filter I said, more or less, “Hey, I don’t want to bother you, but could you give this a listen?” He did, and replied, “Put in a work order so I can come out and look at it.” Which I did today after running the dishwasher before bed last night, cleaning it out this morning, and keeping it empty for now.

I lived for years without a dishwasher, most of my adult life. It’s second nature to me to just clean by hand, drip- or hand-dry, set up a dish rack, etc. My first apartment to have a dishwasher was actually a mid-90s affair in Budapest of all places, a renovated old house in the hills that belonged to a retired professor who had moved abroad and whose daughter rented it out to American students. Now that was a flashy, fancy kitchen; I still have fond memories and dreams of it. I suspect soak-rinse-dry would be more water/energy efficient for me and Ms. S., but she hates seeing dishes in the sink (it almost sounds as if I’m ‘blaming’ her here; my apologies for that!)

We have a small porch, a slab of cement outside our inset front door; the upstairs neighbor’s tiny balcony overhangs and provides shade and privacy. We set two plastic chairs and a small table, along with decorative gourds and a little sculpture of Aristotle, out there. Ms. S. hanged our autumnal wreath on the door; she’ll replace it with something wintery come December. The porch light is burned out and has always been, but we’ve never been prone to sitting outside at night — a loss, perhaps –, and so we’ve thought nothing of it.

Last week I decided we could use a nice light out there, so I removed the glass cover and attempted to unscrew the 60 watt bulb within. But no such luck; it’s tight. Is the bulb in too tight? Has that metal expanded? Is there corrosion or similar? I cannot say. I figure that if I try too hard to remove it at best I’ll break the figure, and more likely I’ll shatter the glass bulb in my hand, both cutting myself and making it nearly impossible to remove the bulbs remains from the fixture. And so the trip to the apartment office was a three-for-one: water heater, dishwasher, porch light.

I’m not actually “getting something done” here; but I am facilitating the getting-done of something … chores by proxy?

II. Civic Duty

In my current state you can register to vote up to 10 days before an election. The registration forms are online as a PDF.

Last year thanks to a gift card we purchased a small, single-purpose HP laser printer. Wireless and USB. The Laserjet P1102w. It works nicely enough and both of us can print from anywhere in the apartment. I’ve kept my crappy, cheap Epson (Stylus NX125) — color inkjet — for one reason: it has a working, relatively quick and accurate, scanner. Digital cameras are good enough these days, though, that with good lighting and a steady hand most of my document-scanning tasks could be outsourced to my Olympus, thus freeing up nearly two square feet of desk space.

In any case: open the PDF. Print the first page, turn the paper over, and print the other. Fill it out, fold in half, write in the address to the county Board of Registrar, affix a first class postage stamp, seal, and take to the mailbox.

III. Coffee

Ms. S. heads for rehearsal; it will be a miracle if the whole cast shows up. It’s always something: choir, sports, ‘I forgot,’ and so on. Since she is not a regular teacher at the school she has no real authority; it helps that the kids like and respect her, but that can’t overcome the apathy of both parents and children alike.

For Ms. S.’s birthday a while back I bought her a bag of decaf coffee, as she’s been trying to reduce if not eliminate caffeine intake. This one? Maple … you could smell it through the bag, but today it took over for her old decaf, and it lit up the dining room and kitchen with its aroma. I decided to ‘borrow’ a cup this afternoon.

Decafs have progressed so much in recent years. If I could — time, technique, caring enough — I’d roast my own beans. As it is I do prefer to grind my own. A good friend with whom I’ve been out of touch too long does both and has been known to send me his roasts. Some are fruitier than others, some have a full body, others less, and so on. It is obvious that compared with ‘gourmet’ or home-roasted or this-or-that coffee that this maple decaf was going to suffer. But now I’ve just reversed expectations; I’ve also unfairly set them too low for a fine bag of store-bought bean. We live in a town with a couple Starbucks and a couple imitation Starbucks. There’s one indie coffee shop downtown that is evidently hit-or-miss, along with an overpriced German ‘deli’ of sorts that does ‘fancy’ coffee drinks; they, too, like to imitate Starbucks. The best coffee we’ve had in this state came at a pecan store in Decatur months ago. In any case, this if a fine, relatively dark, full-enough-bodied brew that leaves most of the maple to the nose; it doesn’t really carry over to the liquid, though it does mellow and blunt it some. It’s a medium to darker roast, not especially nuanced and definitely not fruity. It is, however, a bit nutty, and it’s possible it was a maple-walnut flavored grind. As it cools down it’s extremely smooth and filling.

Months ago when Ms. S. first started reducing her caffeine intake we stopped using the drip machine. For months I’d prepare a whole pot for her. Then I started making her a single cup of regular or decaf with my French press. Then I put the machine away in a closet and we’ve not missed it, though we’ve enjoyed the extra counter space.

I never ‘made the move’ to a French press; it’s how I started drinking coffee around 2004. Well, if you do not count soy mochas with whip from Espresso Royale after LUG meetings. I began with a French press, which I gave to my brother when I went abroad for a year; while there I bought another. When I returned I retrieved my old one and my coffee grinder (or, rather, my brother got me a new one when he returned the press). When I changed states in 2010 and traveled by Greyhound I left my press behind but promptly bought another one here … you can see a pattern. But about two years ago I decided to also buy a little Moka, a choice I’ve never regretted. There are probably a number of keys or tricks to the mocha, but the only one I take as dogma, as a fiddle with the rest, is do not burn the coffee … low and slow, and take it from the heat before it looks as if it’s done. You don’t need the freshest or most expensive “espresso” grind or roast for your Moka; I’ve gotten sweet nectar with the Publix brand “espresso” brick. The full-bodied liqueur it produces is almost an entirely different species if not genus than the results of the French press. Sometimes I blend them, and I’m certainly not beyond taking a fruity or acidic roast sent to me and grinding it extra fine for the Moka … sure, it’s not espresso, but it is an amazing beverage nonetheless.

IV. Grains

We go through a lot of lentils; I’ve covered their controversial calorie count before. High in insoluble vis-a-vis soluble fiber, they cause less gastric distress than do beans. They’re a very high-protein, low-fat meal item, and we love them plain, in soups, and as fritters. But they’re not a complete protein; they do, however, pair well with various grains.

Lentils and brown rice is a standard option around here. Sometimes I use barley instead. I have some wheat berries, but they require a lot of soaking. I keep a small bag of bulgur in the pantry. This afternoon I found myself browsing through ‘Nutrition Data‘ looking at various grains and grain-like things and contemplating what else I have in the pantry.

Two quality protein pseudo-grains I keep around are amaranth and quinoa. Ms. S. is iffy about the latter and does not care for the former, so they’re both just for me now. Instead of just treating them as rice substitutes I wondered what else they’d be great for, and a couple obvious-in-hindsight approaches made themselves available: porridge and puffing.

Amaranth in particular seems well suited to taking the place of something like grits of cream of wheat, especially when paired with berries and cream. The other idea is to puff/pop quinoa or amaranth much like you would popcorn. The main options if you do not have an air-popper are in a skillet or in a microwave, the tradeoff being: both are easy to burn in a skillet if you have the temperature wrong, whereas the microwave will burn fewer kernels but will also leave a number un-popped. And once you have them puffed?

Cereal.

A while back Ms. Bought a variety of puffed grain cereals from Arrowhead Mills; she found the puffed kamut in particular to be pretty amazing.

V. Foot- and Other Notes

About Steve

47 and counting.
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