Over the weekend I have not had a moment to offer an update. I have been out and about in Connecticut and New York City packing my days with activities. Now I’m in Bermuda and things have slowed down to the point that I can take a little time to report. I have marked statements not meant to be taken as literal fact with “*”.
A visit to NYC is not complete without a stop in Ridgefield Connecticut to visit my old college roommate, Greg. COVER ART: A somewhat menacing woven tapestry of swans in the Aldrige Museum of Modern Art in Ridgefield.
Carl Jung’s “The Red Book” gives readers a friendly introduction to the realms of madness of which men do not speak*.
New York City
In NYC we visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Next week: Bermuda!
We’re trying just a little bit of the Wahl’s protocol. Instead of worrying about what not to eat, we’re just trying to get 9 cups per day of vegetables. This leads to lovely trips to the farmer’s market. There were some clever vegetable signs in honor of the season.
It also leads to recipes like the one below.
My radish greens were maybe as long as my elbow to the tip of my fingers and there were about six of them. It would be daunting to try to eat them directly, so put them in the blender.
Don’t bother de-stemming the greens. Don’t peel, but do core the apple.
- All of your radish greens (any greens will do)
- 1 big apple
- A tablespoon of lemon juice
- Soymilk to desired thickness
- Three handfuls of peanuts
- One banana
Another recipe involves finely chopping (perhaps with a food processor) whatever vegetables you have in the fridge and cooking them in a non-stick wok with some grass-fed meat. I used ground beef, which I browned in olive oil with garlic and set aside before adding the other ingredients.
It’s all pretty good, and relatively easy to cook, which is one of my main drivers. Apparently we should see the results of eating this huge amount of vegetables within a few weeks.
October 10th was the last day of my twenties. For a long time, I had no idea what I would do to celebrate the twenties I’d lived. Should I jump out of a plane? Go bungee jumping? Hang gliding? Parasailing? All of those were too involved, and it would be hard to fit them on a Wednesday in the middle of a workweek.
So, I decided to celebrate my twenties I would do something I was fond of in my twenties that I should probably quit in my thirties. Something to cap it all off. So I went to Corbett Burgers and Soda Bar and ordered a quadruple cheeseburger.
You know you’ve done the order right when the cashier has to call in the manager to figure out how to put it in the system. Then the woman who brought it to my table told me she would be watching to see if I could actually fit it in my mouth.
It was a challenge, but I could. I also finished the whole thing. By the end of it, I felt like I was ready to leave this tradition behind. Now I’m thirty, and I practice portion control.
Note on the jokes:
The apparently flat federal prison in Chicago was not actually designed to satisfy a benefactor’s belief in depriving inmates of the third dimension.
Why did I think it would work? I mean I guess the flaw in my reasoning seems obvious now, but at the time I didn’t even consider that it might not work.
When I found those two little carrot seeds hidden in a discarded packet on this godforsaken junk planet, what can I tell you, I just thought who wouldn’t jump at the opportunity, you know? I mean, you can’t call the synthesized stuff you get from the Feedos real food, can you?
Those seeds were my babies. I could barely interpret the cheap paper packaging, but I followed every instruction to the letter. I collected all the food scraps I found and put them in a pile to rot and make nutritious soil. I planted the carrot seeds three inches apart. I even hoarded my water ration in an old plastic bottle to pour on them every couple days.
This was where I expected failure. Growing vegetables from seeds wasn’t easy even when I did it with schoolkids back on my home planet. One of those little seeds survived, though. Day after day I watched it grow, terrified another inmate would spot it and dig it up or carelessly step on it. For three months, that’s all I thought about. That carrot kept me going when the heat seemed unbearable and the rising stink of the garbage pile threatened to drive me mad.
It was one day that I heard a washing machine had tumbled off a pile a couple miles away and nearly killed somebody that I couldn’t wait any longer. The future wasn’t something you could count on here. It was still weeks too early, but I dug up the carrot.
It was a sight to behold – small and skinny, bent and with two ends, but vivid orange and sturdy. I couldn’t remember the last time I had something crunchy that wasn’t fried. A real carrot. It reminded me so much of home I wanted to cry. This would be the first carrot Chucky had ever seen.
He was eleven now. Born on the ship, Chucky knew nothing of home. He fidgeted on his chair, black with the yellow foam showing in a tear on the side. “Mom said you had extra rations for me.”
“Yeah,” I said, “check out what I grew.”
He looked at me like I was going to lift my shirt to show him a tumor on my chest. I carefully unwrapped my carrot, and he squinted at it. “What is that?”
“It’s a carrot, buddy. It’s for you. Try it, it’s good.”
I held the carrot out to him, and he stared at it for some time before snatching it from my hand and putting it in his mouth.
“blech!” he shouted, throwing the carrot away into a nearby pile of old socks and takeout cups. He stared at me for a moment, then he said “that’s not carrot! What are you trying to pull?” He scowled, looking paradoxically like one betrayed, and fled. I retrieved the carrot, of course.
At supper time, I went to the vegetable Feedo and swiped through the options until I found the “carrot” option. The cartoon character representing “carrot” was smiling and bespectacled. “I’m good for your eyes!” it chirped in an overwrought falsetto. I pushed the VEND button and received a little orange box with green trim.
“Carrot” was shaped in the platonic ideal of a carrot – an oblong cone with a spiky green cap on top. The coloring was somewhat askew, with the orange of the carrot extending well into what presumably was supposed to be the green stem.
“Carrot” yielded immediately to my plastic spoon, and I scooped it up and into my mouth in the way that one ate most Feedo vegetables. As I expected, it was a sweet mush whose flavor represented only the most distant memory of that of a real carrot.
That evening, I carefully washed the dirty sock smell and ingrate saliva off of my precious carrot and consumed it bite by bite. It took most of an hour to savor that meal. It was the best I’d had in years.
This is a cross between two recipes:
The Sausage Recipe: https://noblepig.com/2014/11/sausage-sweet-potato/
The Sweet Potato Recipe: https://www.simplyrecipes.com/recipes/sweet_potato_hash_browns/
The sausage was pretty much the same from the Sausage recipe.
Rather than painstakingly cube the sweet potatoes and boil them, I used my Ninja chopper and chopped them into little pieces, being careful not to puree them. These little pieces I placed into a pan with olive oil and cooked like hashbrowns, roughly according to the Sweet Potato recipe.
Perfect for a potluck!