Oysters Make Magic Sauce

It took me three hours (yes, you read that right: 3. Whole. Hours.) to cook, chop, dip, roll, and then cook again 50 egg rolls. Now I remember why I haven't made them in years. I am not fast, nor are my fingers that nimble, and wouldn't I rather just pay some nice Asian people $5 to give me some egg rolls? Yes. Sure, the egg rolls tasted delicious, but I am way too lazy for this. Sure, I knew exactly what went in them, but once in a while, don't you just want to go to a sketchy Chinese place and wonder what on earth they've put in your food?

Anyway, this time I did things a bit differently, though, and I loved the result.

1) I used real ginger. I am a fan of ginger. I could just eat plain ginger straight and not bat an eye. Mixing it with the meat (beef and pork) while you cook it? Fantastic.

2) I used oyster sauce. Now, this is not sauce made by cute little oysters. It's sauce made from the cute little oysters, and it is delicious. And the texture of it is totally bizarre! In my opinion, it's probably the food equivalent of mercury. It's all liquidy and syrupy but it stays together and does not drip everywhere accidentally. Voilà! Magic sauce.

3) I quit using a recipe. Oh, wait - that's not new. Unless I'm baking, I frequently don't bother with following a recipe too closely. I consult two or three of them, compare the ingredient list, pick out my favorites from each, and then mash it together. And then I don't bother actually reading the directions or measuring anything, either. And you know, if you pick out your favorite ingredients (ginger, oyster sauce, green onions, you know: those kinds of things), and do a couple of taste tests while you cook, somehow things seem to work! Imagine that.

Finally, two more reasons to never cook egg rolls: 1) Your home smells like a fast food restaurant afterwards from cooking with all that oil. Oh, well. At least when I aired out the house last night while cleaning up, the temperature outside was above freezing. And this whole temperature thing leads me to 2) You burn the roof of your mouth because you try to eat them when they're still too hot. (And then if you're dumb and impatient like me, you do it a second time, about 20 minutes after the first time.)

It Is Well With My Soul, or alternately, My Sole is Well-Heeled.

They say that girls like buying shoes. While this may be true for most, it's even more true for me when it comes to getting new boots. Since I live in the place of eternal cold and snow I buy a new pair of boots and maybe a coat, too, every year.

Earlier this fall, while trekking across Vermont, my cousin said we HAD to go to this store: Well Heeled. Guess who walked out of that store with (figuratively speaking, what with handy plastic) less in her wallet? Me. That's right. I bought these gems:


And then loved them so much, I went online today to purchase these beauties:

Now, I know what you're thinking: they look a lot alike. And I'll admit, they do. But see, the difference is that the red ones are red, and the brown ones are brown. Also, the brown ones have buttons. Aren't the buttons pretty? I thought about getting the brown ones in black, but they would look too much like I've stepped out of a Charles Dickens novel and chosen a new career in scullery-maiding. Not exactly the look I'd go for.

Also: I really HATE ordering boots online. Or any shoes, for that matter. Because seriously? How do you know if they'll fit? And, oh, the troubles of shipping stuff back. Plus, I HATE paying to send stuff back. But I figured it was okay in this situation since both pair are made by the same company and have the same dimensions, and therefore I think they'll work. And better still, I got free shipping! Yay! I can't wait for them to arrive so I can try them on! (!!!)

I know the free world will hate me when I say this, but as much as I like getting new boots, I don't always like shopping for them because the calf portion of the boot is never made for people like me: I always look like I'm wearing the mid-calf version of hip waders. They're supposed to be knee-high, they're really mid-calf. They're supposed to be tight around the calf, I could fit both my calves in one. Normally I don't go for the slouchy look, either, (whether intended to be slouchy by design or just because they dribble down one's calves but aren't supposed to) but in the case of these boots, it seems to work on and for me. So am I justified in buying two nearly identical pairs of boots? Why yes, yes I am, especially since it can be such a challenge to find good boots.

All-American: I watched some football and ate some food this weekend.

Dear Internet,

I cheated on you Sunday and spent the afternoon with your brother, Television. See, he was playing the Vikings-Lions game, and you must realize by now that that would take priority with me. Internet, the Vikes did not play all that well, but they won, and that is what counts. I hope they're done with their sloppy play now, and continue to win the rest of this season. And you know something? Fox is trying to get everyone to send in names for the new defensive line. Although I like some of the new names suggested (like Minnesota Maulers or the Four Horns of Horror), I think revisiting the Purple People Eaters is just fine.

Thanks to my mother, I now have a new favorite Thai restaurant: True Thai. Internet, you say wonderful things about this place, and they are all true. It was delicious, and I'll definitely be going back. And after that, my mother informed me of a great Asian market called United Noodles. I saw things there that I'd never seen before (and will probably never cook with, but hey! whatever: it was a learning experience). Let's just say I went with more traditional ingredients, and now I have to make egg rolls and stuff this week.

Internet, my final complaint is that I have this awful cough that just will not go away. I should probably go to the doctor...I bet I have pneumonia or some such thing. But if it's not and is just some crazy virus, they're not going to do anything for me anyway, and I HATE the thought of sitting in a doctor's waiting room, waiting for absolutely nothing.

xoxo,
Minny LinnEy

Crying over Spilled Milk, and Jerry Seinfeld

Dear Internet,

I am breaking my pledge, and am visiting you on the weekends. I know, I know. I promise to do better next weekend. Really. I sware. I'll try to do better. Maybe. One can hope.

Anyway, Internet, I had the day off on Wednesday for Veterans Day. I chose to sleep in, and then attempted to prolong the experience by eating breakfast in bed. I chose cereal. This was an unwise choice, Internet, since it involved milk, and for the first time ever, I spilled milk in bed. Mind you, I didn't care so much about the spilled milk, nor did I cry over it; I cared more that I'd spilled a liquid on my bed. I guess that proves I should not be lazing around any longer than necessary, nor should I eat in bed (at least not anything that involves milk).

Then last night I went to see Jerry Seinfeld at the Orpheum in Mpls. Hilarious, Internet: I haven't laughed so hard in ever so long a time, and afterwards I fully realized that belly laughs = belly hurts. (Also, throat hurts from chortling overly much.)

Anyway, Seinfeld was going on about restaurants (To paraphrase: "What is it about restaurants that are so fancy? I want a restaurant where the food is 'not bad.' The restaurants that are 'great' are just too much. They drizzle sauce on stuff. Everything's drizzled. And what is it about reductions? If you quit reducing your sauce so much, you wouldn't have to drizzle it on. I want someone in the kitchen to just open a huge can of some kind of sauce and just dump it on. That's what I want..." and other similar stories), and one of the things he said kind of stood out to me: Have you noticed how they present you the bill in a book? "And now begins the reading of the bill..."

And this made me think of something, Internet: How disconcerting is it when you're a customer and you're given a menu on recycled paper that looks as though the maitre d' dragged it through the grease in the alley before handing it to you, and then later on hands you a small leather-bound volume with elegant gold embossed lettering known as the bill? You'd think it would be the other way around. I would like to know the restaurateur believes in his menu just the same as he believes he is to be paid (and as Seinfeld said, pay for some drizzled reduction). I think restaurants should take notice: If they must print the menu on copier paper, put some fancy font to it and then slip it into a leather-bound volume - preferably one that's thicker and with more substance than the one the tab comes in. Just sayin', Internet.

Love, as ever,
Minny LinnEy

Follow these simple steps to pretty much guarantee weird dreams:

1. Eat white Bavarian sausage, red cabbage and pretzels with real German mustard for dinner (at the Glock)
2. Listen to Stravinsky's Firebird while you fall asleep (listen here and here)

You will be inundated with dreams about strange things like creepy looking bugs and purposely wearing your jeans inside out in public. Trust me.

Veterans Day

Thank you.

The Edmund Fitzgerald

Thanks to JK for pointing out this vid to me.

Life as we know it: Tuesday

Remember when I said that Target had doubled the cost of their tights this year? I now know why. Putting a pair on this morning was like putting on a pair of pants under my dress. At least I know they'll keep me warm this winter.

And in memory of the Edmund Fitzgerald today, this.

In other news, orchestras and music are definitely running at full hilt, and after two rehearsals in as many days, I now have a violin hickey from having my violin under my chin for a couple evenings straight.

I know why I always get in the Christmas mood way before December - and it has absolutely nothing to do with how early stores put out their Christmas wares or how early I start gift shopping or stuff like that. No, I finally realized it goes back to childhood. Were you ever in the kids choir or the Christmas pageant? And did you, like me, start rehearsing in October along with all the other kids (in the director's hope that you would sound decent this year)? Yeah. That's why Christmas music starts going through my head at such an early date. Only now, instead of church plays, I play in orchestras that start rehearsing Christmas music in November. That more than anything else, I think, gets me in the Christmas spirit earliest.

The Head of the Hyndman, the Wild and the Nutcracker: sounds like the start of a very, very bad joke.

Dear Internet,

I had a very good weekend.

I took off early from work Friday to rest up and finally get rid of this cough that's been plaguing me since I got back from vacation, but alas: there is no rest for the socially active. Also, Internet, doing an 800 meter race on Saturday morning did not help the cough, nor did the vast amounts of Windex used when I helped to clean up the boathouse for the end of the year shutdown.

I'm still unsure of the name of the race we did on Saturday morning but it is now an MBC tradition: a race done on the day we pull out the dock. Is it Head of the Hyndman? or Head of the Hynie? or the Hind of the Hyndman? Whatever it's called, it's a lot of fun, and its namesake was even there all the way from Switzerland (but he still let me row the 1x I'm renting from him, which was nice of him). And then he got disqualified. Not once, but twice. I don't really understand how a person can get DQed twice in one race, but Martin somehow managed it. (Though it is the Head of the Hynie, so I guess that really does explain it all.)

Lining up at the start isn't so much getting into alignment with the other boats as it is just getting your boat pointed in generally the right direction (downriver towards Raspberry Island). And forget bothering to get even with the other boats. Coach Peter DQed half the contenders before we even started (OK, he only disqualified a couple people; he assessed lots of penalties right away: 10 minutes here, 4 minutes there, 30 seconds on another. Internet, apparently what you wear is as big of a deal in this race as how well you row. If you wear green (evil rival Minneapolis color), expect large penalties. Also, if you wear silver lamé pants while you row, expect penalties + jeering from fellow rowers.) Also, if you re-rig your boat to row it as a double instead of a pair, you'll probably get penalized (though your chances of flipping and getting wet may be lessened), never mind the penalty from not being in a single in the first place.

This year the start of the 800 meter race was announced in three different languages, adding to the hilarious chaos. I could get through the French and English, but when Coach Peter threw in German, I had no idea what was going on. (He probably told us all that we're horrible rowers when he was speaking German at us, for all I know.)

Another rule of this race involves doughnuts, Internet, making it one of my very favorite races of the year. In the past, we have had to race with doughnuts in our mouths - but you can't eat it during the race. This year, Coach Peter decided for the sake of safety to nix that requirement, but we still each had to have a doughnut in the boat. Because of that rule change, I went all out and got a custard-filled, chocolate-covered doughnut. Then, after you finish the race, and before you dock, you have to eat it or risk disqualification. Internet, eating a doughnut is not an easy task when you're breathing very hard and would rather not eat anything at all at that moment. But down the hatch it goes. Also: if you are very smart and don't want to eat your doughnut, toss it in the river as a couple people did (so I heard - I ate every delicious bite of mine, and by no means am I endorsing littering, especially when it involves throwing away something pleasant to eat). If you are silly (Martin), you'll forget all about eating it or throwing it in the river and get DQed again.

All in all, Internet, it was a fun race. Also, I am proud to report that I was the first on the water back in March, and the last off the water in November (well, Captain Jac docked just after me - close enough). Never mind that there were, oh, two or three months in the middle of that when I didn't row at all because of a small injury.

And then after that, Internet, we took out the dock and the barge, and scrubbed everything we could down, including a bunch of boats. I still have to wash my boat this week, but that's a small chore compared to the work we put in on Saturday. And oh, Internet! It's so sad to have the dock out when it's going to be a beautiful week, with weather in the 50s and sun and no wind. The water would be perfect for rowing.

I also discovered a couple new boutiques on Saturday after lunch at Salut: Picky Girl, Stella Blu, and Shu. And then after that, Internet, my friend Abby bestowed some Wild tix on me (thanks, Abby!), and friend Kim and I went to the game. Even better: they won. But I am sad to report there wasn't a great hockey fight. I'm not really into sports that are inherently violent like boxing, Internet, but for some reason, I feel like a hockey game is incomplete if there isn't a good fight.

And then last night I started back up with the orchestra. This Christmas, we're playing the second suite from the Nutcracker, which is the one with the songs in it that no one's ever heard before (other than the Pas Des Deux). It's a bit challenging, especially since I'm sitting with the concertmaster this series and there are some first stand solos involving harmonics and such, but it will be fun (although I kind of wish that we were playing both first and second suites so people will not walk in and wonder why they're not hearing the normal Tchaikovsky version of the Nutcracker, even though we're playing it - just not all of it).

And that plus a few other things, like church and cooking up a double batch of chili, was my weekend, Internet. I hope yours was just as good without me as mine was without you.

Love,
Minny LinnEy

Quote of the Moment: how the book of Isaiah reflects today's times

"The God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ is not a local deity, not a tribal god, not an American pet. He is the Lord of the nations, they are all accountable to him, their fates and fortunes are in his hands alone, he will have the final word, and he will vindicate the faith of his people. Individuals are judged in eternity, but nations are judged in time. And time is moving inexorably forward, through the tremors of present judgments to the final shaking of all things on the day of the Lord. That certainty helps us to live above the madness and to care for others in their distress."

Raymond Ortlund, Jr., in Isaiah: God Saves Sinners, chapter 14, "The Supremacy of God Over the Nations I"

What do Sesame Street and CNBC have in common?

I hate to do this, but today seems the appropriate day to say something that's been on my mind. Since Sesame Street is turning 40, I thought I would point out a peculiarity I've noticed about the characters on Sesame Street and characters and guests over at CNBC: they kind of look alike.

Bert and Dennis Kneale








Count von Count and Greg Troccoli (fitting, since the Count counts, and Troccoli counts stocks and money)








Prairie Dawn and Sue Herera








Guy Smiley and Donny Deutsch








Sonny Friendly and Rick Santelli (who apparently found Sonny Friendly's toupee)

The list goes on and on. The Honks and traders reporting from the floor of the NYSE. Half the male anchors and Prince Charming - the other half are Sherlock Helmlock or Mr. Johnson or Kingston Livingston III. What can I say? It seems like crazy eyebrows abound on both Sesame Street and CNBC guests.

I know, I know. There's nothing CNBC personalities and traders can do about their appearances - they are who they are (well, the men could do something about their abundant eyebrows, probably). But Sesame Street...it's like they stole from life...uh, saw into the future 40 years later and created fiction based on reality.

At a loss for words.

When I heard this company advertised on the radio last night, I didn't even know what to think. The commercial was basically telling parents that if they don't trust their children or other members of their household about having drugs or guns in the house, the company would come in with their drug sniffing, gun finding dogs to search them out. Then it was up to you to decide what to do.

I'm not quite sure what I think of this concept. I can understand the idea when it comes to bringing the dogs into your business, or even a school - that makes sense (and both are services they offer). But when you are bringing in basically what looks like cop dogs (though the police are not involved at all, they say), then aren't you essentially declaring war on your kids? Again, I'm just not really sure if I think it's a great idea or a really bad idea.