Happy Anniversary, Nike+

Well, Gentle Reader, I didn't quite make it to the 2,000-mile mark in time for the one-year anniversary of my Nike+ tracking account, but I think coming 110 miles short isn't too bad.

UPDATE
A few short, sweaty hours after publishing this post, I hit the 1,900-mile mark and kicked off my second year of Nike+ use in a big way: completing a half-marathon in less than 99 minutes. See for yourself:


Pretty nifty, non? Okay, so maybe running 13.1 miles in 99 minutes doesn't seem like much of an accomplishment to you, Gentle Reader, but it's a pretty neat one for me. I'm not a fast runner by any means, but I'd like to think that I'm a diligent runner. With time and focus, I've shaved off almost half an hour off my half-marathon time, and I'm admittedly shocked and thrilled by that accomplishment. If you don't want to join me in celebrate, well then, bully for you!

Booyah! Bread!

For once, Gentle Reader, I'm going to write about our bread machine misadventures. I hope you don't mind.

--The Faudie
Booyah! We have bread that looks like bread!

Isn't it glorious, Gentle Reader? Isn't it marvelous? Isn't it a wonder? Isn't it just the most amazing thing you've ever seen?

Okay, okay, maybe it's not all those things, but this loaf is pretty damn special to the husband and me. It is our first true success with a bread machine (the Welbilt ABM-3600), and I cannot express quite adequately how thrilled I am with this loaf of whole wheat bread.

Chide me all you want, Gentle Reader, but I really am that bowled over by our success. I honestly figured that for all our efforts, the husband and I would not be able to produce a decent, respectable loaf of bread. For all the reading and research we did and would probably do to determine where we were screwing up, I truly figured we wouldn't figure out the problems.

Check that. I truly figured I wouldn't be able to figure out the problems and make a decent loaf of bread. Let me try to explain, Gentle Reader. For all my enthusiasm, making bread in a machine--which should be a pretty basic thing to do--I had secretly deduced would be yet another thing I couldn't do right. After all, there are a lot of culinary and other tasks--making drop cookies, sewing, gardening, scrapbooking and other hausfrau-ish tasks--that I've tried very earnestly to learn and accomplish and yet cannot achieve true success. (Or perhaps my measure of success was off the mark. I dunno. I am an admitted and dogged overachiever.) Because I was so excited about this bread-making endeavor, I figured I'd fail miserably. It's...it's just the way my brain works. Chide all you want, Gentle Reader, about my glaring lack of self-esteem, but all the self-esteem-building techniques in the world will not overcome this thinking pattern of mine. It's just who I am. To paraphrase one of my therapists, I really know how to beat myself up.

And I guess I shouldn't be proud that I can do that job really well, huh?

But what counts here is that I was wrong--and happily so!

Honey Whole Wheat Bread

7.5 oz. water
2 C whole wheat flour
1/4 C honey
1 t NaCl
1 T gluten (aka vital gluten, aka vital wheat gluten flour)
1 T butter
1 T dry milk
2 1/4 t active dry yeast (or 1 3/4 t quick rise yeast)

Yield: 1 1-lb. loaf

Nutritional Info
Sorry, the bread machine's manual, in which this recipe appears, didn't include nutritional info. If you're that curious, find a nutritional calculator through Google and have fun!

The Faudie's Futzings
The husband and I made this loaf Sunday evening after I spent a fair amount of time Saturday and Sunday researching bread machine bread-making both online and in whatever books the HPB locations in Cedar Park and on North Lamar had on their shelves. While I learned a fair amount about the art and science of making bread--such as the various names used for gluten and how you can make your own whole wheat bread flour simply by adding a tablespoon of vital gluten for every three cups of regular whole wheat flour you have--I realized the husband and I could be doing a few things wrong. That realization left me with a dilemma: How best could I, through process of elimination, figure out how we were mucking up the works?

So what were the possible things we were doing wrong? Well, for starters we were making bread at the wrong time of day at the wrong time of the year if we wanted to go strictly by the recipe. As I'd suspected before I started researching, heat and humidity do indeed affect how bread rises and bakes and how the yeast acts. The advice the husband and I encountered in several resources was to reduce the amount of water and, should the dough turn out too dry and the kneading blade have problems doing its job, to add more water a teaspoon at a time.

A few other resources also recommended using cooler ingredients instead of ensuring they were at room temperature before mixing as a way to counteract the heat. This idea appealed to me because for as much as I'll think about and plan ahead and strategize such a task as baking a loaf of bread, I'll f'in forget to get out all the ingredients that need to come to room temperature.

We also contemplated the possibility that our Fleishmann's instant dry yeast was no good. After all, I'd bought the stuff about a year or more ago for the husband's misadventures in Chicago-style deep-dish pizza-making. Additionally, my efforts to appropriately store that fairly sizable bag during the ensuing year wound up being pretty abysmal. (I'd like to blame the husband for this problem--he is Captain Oblivious at times and probably didn't realize that the Ziplock in which I'd initially put the bag of yeast had torn or that he hadn't done his best to get all the air out and seal things up tightly--but perhaps the little elves that come out and wreak havoc in my kitchen are to blame.) So what this means is that there's a pretty good chance the large quantity of instant dry yeast we have is no good.

Here was another potential problem: flour quality. As you know, Gentle Reader, I'm a skinflint. Hey, I don't have a lot of money to shell out on ingredients, and by and large, the house brand is just as good as the national brand. And for the most part, minor differences in quality don't really matter. But when it comes to making bread (and pastries and other, more delicate foodstuffs), quality can matter. That said, I suspected my bag of HEB-brand white bread flour along with my bag of Gold Medal unbleached all-purpose flour might be, to put it kindly, iffy for successful bread-making.

Whew! As you can undoubtedly understand at this point, Gentle Reader, we had some fairly expansive issues to work through. Undaunted, we plunged ahead Sunday evening with plans to try out a whole wheat recipe in the newer of our two Welbilts. Here's a quick rundown of how we attempted to address our potential problems:

We bought a five-pound bag of Bob's Red Mills whole wheat flour at Central Markup. Like King Arthur Flour, Bob's Red Mills is one of those larger flour producers that has maintained a fair amount of integrity when it comes to its products, and its reputation (again, like that of King Arthur Flour) is pretty good. Sure, the bag was a little pricier, but here's why I forked over the four bucks and some change for it:

• The company's reputation is good.
  
• The bag had printed right on the front that it was suitable for use in bread machines.

Okay, point 2 is probably the reason we bought the bag. We couldn't find anywhere a product labeled "whole wheat bread flour" as specified in one of the recipes we planned to make. This was on Saturday, Gentle Reader, before I picked up a book on Sunday morning at HPB and discovered that whole wheat bread flour is fairly rare and easy to make yourself by adding some vital gluten to regular whole wheat flour. Pardon my ignorance at the time of purchase!

We bought new yeast. Based on my reading of various yeast-related topic threads on King Arthur Flour's public discussion boards, we bought a three-portion packet of SAF instant dry yeast at a fairly high price--$1.89, almost a buck more than the three-portion Red Star stuff I could have bought at HEB--because, once again, the reputation of this brand as very reliable had me thinking that perhaps by using this reputable product, I could determine if we had experience bad yeast-related problems in the past.

Just a note about SAF and Red Star: They're made by the same company in allegedly the same facility. I knew this tidbit already when we went shopping on Saturday, but despite this knowledge, I caved and bought the brand the bakers on the King Arthur Flour discussion boards "swear by" (yes, they say just that, Gentle Reader, in their posts) just in case. Will I buy it again? I dunno. I guess I'd have to think long and hard if the expense justifies avoiding bad-yeast mishaps.

We reduced the water we initially poured into the baking pan. Instead of 7 ounces, I put in just over 6. I can't tell you precisely because I stupidly used a liquid measuring cup that only has the even numbers marked and doesn't have half-ounces marked.

While the bread was going through its multiple kneadings, we did have to add some water because we could hear the paddle/blade/whatever struggling to work with the dough. All together, we probably added 2.5 teaspoons after the initial 6.whatever ounces.

The Proof Is in the, er, Baking
Since you've already seen the picture of the finished loaf, Gentle Reader, you know how this story ends. I suppose that's a bit anticlimactic after all the build-up with the discussion of research and stabs at possible solutions and whatnot. Sorry to disappoint you. To soothe you, enjoy some pictures of this little baking adventure:

Given how tall the loaf rose and how relatively dark the top crust appeared to us, the husband and I stopped the baking four minutes early. We really agonized over that decision because...well, quite frankly we didn't what to fuck this up at the last minute by being unnecessarily fretful about the loaf burning. Then again, we didn't want to end up with another relatively inedible loaf! As it turned out, ending the baking cycle early was a good decision.

Here is something that is a bit funny about this bread-making success: The machine's manual notes, "This bread will be smaller than basic bread because of whole wheat flour." If you're not sure why the manual's writers included such a note, Gentle Reader, understand that whole wheat flour is denser than white flour, thus it shouldn't rise as much.

Heh, yeah right!

Or perhaps the fact that our loaf rose to such impressive heights is a sign that we used too much yeast or gluten. The recipe also has a note that if the bread rises too much, we should cut back on the gluten by a quarter-teaspoon. Maybe we'll try that next time.

Or not. Tall bread is fine with me!

I do know that the next time we make this or a similar recipe, we're going to use the option for the light crust instead of the default medium (not light but not dark?) crust. I can't see myself ever using the dark crust option, but I'm the kid who refused to eat the bottoms of the Bisquick and canned biscuits made at home because I didn't like the taste of the darkened carby yummies. Of course, I often wind up with somewhat raw dough in the center of the biscuits I make for the boy just to save the bottoms from getting too dark and dry and crusty and crumbly, but...who cares!

By the way, as I prepare this post, I'm attempting a banana bread in the same machine using some of the adaptations I discussed herein and the old yeast. What I've seen so far isn't pretty--but that's all fodder for another post!

Porkalicious

Pork noun (1) The fresh or salted flesh of swine when dressed for food (2) government funds, jobs, or favors distributed by politicians to gain political advantage
verb, slang To have sexual intercourse


Sometimes, Gentle Reader, I'm at a loss for witty, attention-grabbing ways to open posts. I mean, how many different ways can you introduce another story about a recipe gone wrong?

On our last Monday of freedom from the boy, pork chops were on the menu. Last Friday, I bought a family pack super-cheap at HEB for meals later on, but I had a recipeI really wanted to try and seeing as I how I was having chicken fatigue...well, Monday night here at Chez Boeckman-Walker was all about pork--the noun, not the verb (probably much to the husband's disappointment).

Honey and Spice-glazed Pork Chops1/4 C honey
2 T Dijon mustard
1/2 t ground ginger
1/4 t ground cinnamon
1/8 t ground cloves
4 4-oz. boneless center-cut loin pork chops, about 1/2" thick
1/2 t salt
1/4 t freshly ground black pepper

1. Combine the honey, mustard, ginger, cinnamon and cloves in a bowl.
2. Heat a large nonstick skillet coated with cooking spray over medium-high heat.
3. Sprinkle the pork with salt and pepper.
   
4. Cook the chops 2 min. on each side or until browned.
   
5. Reduce the heat to medium-low, then add the honey mixture.
   
6. Cook the chops 10 min. or until done, turning them once.

Yield: 4 servings (serving size: 1 pork chop and 1 T glaze)

Nutritional Info
Calories: 321
Fat: 12.1 g
Sat fat: 4.1 g
Protein: 34 g
Carbs: 18.7g
Fiber: 0.3 g
Cholesterol: 92 mg
Sodium: 557 mg

The Faudie's Futzings
Surprisingly, I didn't futz with this one at all. I will say this: I'm not sure if my chops were center-cut or not, and I'm not sure how it could possibly matter, except perhaps for nutritional considerations. I don't know enough about pork cuts to know for sure.

I also only thawed three chops since I'd bagged up the family pack into four or five three-chop portions for freezing. Because I only had three and perhaps because they might have been a bit smaller than 4 ounces each, I had a lot of glaze. Not that I'm complaining! It was absolutely delicious and would probably make a great glaze for chicken. Very flavorful and very easy to make--my favorite kind of "extra touch" to make yet another chicken breast a little different.

Of course, my taste buds might be too unworldly to really judge this dish. For many folks, some condiment combining honey and Dijon--or ersatz versions thereof--probably is well known to them, so this dish might be nothing spectacular for those people. I myself never have consumed a honey-mustard preparation: not as a dipping sauce for pressed-chicken-meat-particulates nuggets, not as a sauce atop a burger or a steak or as a dressing for a salad. Yes, I know, Gentle Reader, I really need to get out more and try new things. But I prefer to do that at home, where I'm in control of the ingredients and have a lot better idea of what's going in to the foods I eat.

To accompany the pork chops, I whipped up a batch of jerky couscous, sans the chicken (obviously).
Since I wouldn't be adding chicken that had been dosed with jerk seasoning, I added a tablespoon (might have been two) of it to the chicken broth before boiling and a tablespoon to the spicy vinegar-olive oil concoction ya pour over the cooked couscous. Delicious!

And now to close the post, here's another fun pork-related bit of pop culture. Enjoy!

Watch 1x06 This Little Piggy in Animation | View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com
Wonder Pig Rocks My World!

Battle of the Bread Machines, Day 2

The husband continues his recap of our initial attempts at bread-making.

--The Faudie
It's day 2 of the Battle of the Bread Machines, in which Angela and I test a variety of second-hand bread machines to see if any of them work!

Competitor #2: The Welbilt Bread Machine Model ABM-100-3

The ABM-100-3 is the precursor to yesterday's competitor, the ABM-3600. What the ABM-100-3 lacks in newness it makes up for in style--just look at the crazy illustrations from its owner's manual (which we had to find online, as our Goodwill-bought machine didn't come with one):

Angela had picked up a bag of bread flower from the local HEB, and it was from the side of the bag that we found the recipe for the ABM-100-3's big tryout.

White Bread

1 C warm water (90-110 degrees F)
2 T oil (canola, vegetable, olive)
2 T sugar
1/2 t salt
2 C bread flour
1 T dry milk powder
1 1/2 t active dry yeast

1. Add the ingredients to the machine's bread pan in the order listed.

Yield: 1 lb. loaf

Nutritional Info
Not provided. Oh well.

Doesn't sound like a difficult recipe, does it? We got the ingredients in quickly (using canola oil instead of vegetable or olive, for those who are curious), and the machine started up just fine. Angela opened its domed lid once to scrape the sides of the pan, but other than that, we just sat back and waited...and waited...and waited...and ultimately went to bed. You see, whereas the ABM-3600 took two hours and 40 minutes to prepare a loaf, the ABM-100-3 took four hours. The judges are definitely going to have to deduct points for that.

A bread machine that doubles as a night light

Did we wake up to a delectable loaf of white bread?

Official Results for Competitor #2
No, we did not. Oh, yes, there was bread, and yes, it tasted fine, but I don't think you could call it white bread.

Once again, the bread that had started to rise so tantalizingly ended up falling. The result was a pretty dense loaf of bread, very chewy and with a slightly oily texture. Upon sampling it, Angela and I both thought it tasted like a decent ciabatta--the problem being that we were trying to make white bread, not ciabatta.

If anyone out there has any tips for getting bread to rise (and stay risen), please send 'em our way. We've already done a little research into the matter, and next time we're going to try using fresher yeast, a little less water and room temperature ingredients.

Coming up on day 3 of the Battle of the Bread Machines: Will our final competitor, the Breadman model TL555LC, be able to take advantage of the Welbilt Brothers' weaknesses to become the victor? Or do we have another chewy loaf in our future? Find out soon--well, as soon as the replacement kneading paddle Angela ordered for the machine arrives.

Recipe Makeover

My folder of bookmarks in Firefox is getting once again stuffed to the gills with recipe links I'd like to try when the time is right. The time, right now, is not right for most of them because it's damn hot and turning on the oven for any length of time or doing a lot of work with the stove is just not appealing. So as the bookmarks build up, some of the recipes that would be suitable for this appalling time of year (which lasts here in Central Texas well into October) get lost in the shuffle until I get ambitious and try to sort them out.

Take this recipe for vegan fajitas, Gentle Reader. It probably sat amongst dozens of other bookmarked links for half a dozen or more weeks until I rediscovered it late last week. (Yes, Gentle Reader, here's my mea culpa: I'm just now getting around to posting about this culinary misadventure. So sue me. It'll be like getting blood from a turnip.) Or, I suppose, another way of looking at this situation is this: It was just waiting for me for when I had all the ingredients I needed, particularly the yellow horn squash and zuccs, along with the red bell pepper.

Well, however you want to view this opportunity, last Friday I decided the husband and I would have fish tacos, and I wanted some veggies to go along with. The vegan fajitas recipe could finally make its debut...sort of.

Vegan Fajitas1/4 C olive oil
1/4 C red wine vinegar
1 t dried oregano
1 t chili powder
1 t white sugar
Garlic salt to taste
Salt and pepper to taste
2 small zucchini squash, julienned
2 medium small yellow squash, julienned
1 large onion, sliced
1 green bell pepper, cut into thin strips
1 red bell pepper, cut into thin strips
2 T olive oil
1 8.75-oz. can whole kernel corn, drained
1 15-oz. can black beans, drained

1. In a large bowl, combine the quarter-cup of olive oil, vinegar, oregano, chili powder, garlic salt, salt, pepper and sugar.
   
2. To the marinade add the zucchini, yellow squash, onion, green pepper and red pepper.
   
3. Marinate the vegetables in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes, but not more than 24 hours.
   
4. Heat the 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat.
5. Drain the marinating vegetables, and saute them until tender, about 10-15 min.
   
6. Stir in the corn and beans.
   
7. Increase the heat to high for 5 min. to brown vegetables.

Yield: 6 servings of undetermined size/quantity

Nutritional Info
Calories: 262
Fat: 14.6g
Sodium: 544 mg
Carbs: 29.5 g
Fiber: 8.6 g
Protein: 7.2 g

The Faudie's Futzings
Here's the thing about the recipes posted to AllRecipes.com: I don't trust them completely at first glance. Since anyone can upload recipes, as evidenced by the angel food cupcakes recipe, a person never knows if a recipe is going to turn out well or if it's utter shit.

That's why, Gentle Reader, I take a few moments to browse the comments and reviews. Granted, most of them are very unhelpful notes such as "Wow, this was great! We'll definitely have it again!" or "My husband ate every bite--and he's a picky eater!" (with assorted misspellings and grammar errors, of course). Other reviewers have noted how they plan to change the recipe "next time" or note how they did change the recipe when they prepared it. I pay particular attention to those reviews because they'll often note why the changes were made, such as not enough of a particular expected flavor or too much of a flavor; complaints about overly dense, oily or other final textures that challenged the food item's palatability, along with the occasional out-of-left field futzings note, such as this one:

just made this for supper -it was so easy. i did make quite a few changes, mrs dash instead of the oregano, added some leftover chicken, served it in tortillas with sliced avocado and dressing inside (mayo, ketchup,chili powder & garlic powder).

Hey, let's take a vegan recipe and add some chicken! That's really priceless, but what makes this review even more precious is the parenthetical explanation of the dressing used. Mmmm...mayo and ketchup. Nothing says authentic Tex-Mex like two of the four primary components of Thousand Island dressing, aka McD's "secret sauce"! (Sugar and relish are, in my book, the other two primary ingredients.)

As f'in hilarious as this particular review is, I did take a few hints from some of the more helpful ones and made over the recipe to some degree. Here it is:

The Faudie's Futzed Vegan Fajitas
or
The Faudie's Marinated Veggies for Fajitas, Tacos or Whatever1 T olive oil
Juice of half of a large lemon
1/2 t dried oregano
1/2 t red chili powder
1/2 t cinnamon
1/2 t cumin
1/2 t garlic paste
3/4 t minced fresh cilantro
1 packet PureVida stevia (equal to 2 t of sugar)
1 red bell pepper, cored, seeded and sliced into strips*
1 yellow horn squash, sliced*

1. In a large bowl, combine the olive oil, spices, garlic paste, stevia, lemon juice and cilantro, whisking lightly.
   
2. To the marinade add the yellow squash and red bell pepper, tossing lightly to coat.
   
3. Marinate the vegetables in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes, but not more than 24 hours.
   
4. Fifteen to 20 minutes before mealtime, heat a skillet or wok over medium-high heat.
   
5. Pour the contents of the large bowl carefully into the wok or skillet, then saute until all the veggies are tender.
   
6. Turn off the heat and allow the diners to serve themselves from the skillet or wok using tongs, a slotted serving spoon or their fingers (at their own peril).

The serving yield will depend on how thinly or thickly you slice your veggies and, of course, the size of those veggies to start and, naturally, how piggie your diners are. I'm lucky because the squash slices are all mine! The husband and I shared the bell pepper slices.

I will say this, Gentle Reader, about my made-over recipe: I'd probably reduce the cinnamon to a quarter-teaspoon next time. But if you really like cinnamon (as the husband did), you can keep it at a half-teaspoon, but then I'd recommend increasing the amount of heat-giving spices or replacing the red chili powder with cayenne. Just a thought.

Oh, here's another note: If you don't have garlic paste, just throw in a teaspoon or two cloves' worth of minced garlic. I just happen to have garlic paste that I wanted to use, and I thought it might combine better into the marinade than minced garlic.

*You could also include green bell peppers--or bell peppers of any color--as well as a zucchini, as the original recipe does. Since just the husband and I were dining on fish tacos and veggies that night, I only used a yellow horn and a red bell.

Battle of the Bread Machines, Day 1

It's been a while, but the husband returns as a guest blogger. He's here to tell you, Gentle Reader, about...hell, you can read it for yourself. Enjoy!

--The Faudie
Welcome to the first in a series of posts in which Angela and I pit bread machine against bread machine in a no-holds-barred competition to determine which appliance makes loaves that rise to the occasion!

(Get it? “Loaves that rise?” I’m so funny.)

Each day for as many working bread machines as we have, we’ll be trying out one of our Goodwill-bought appliances to see which of the devices makes bread the best and burns down the house the least. Let's get started by introducing our first competitor.

Competitor #1: The Welbilt Bread Machine Model ABM-3600

A late entry into this contest, the ABM-3600 (pictured on the left in the above photo) was found by Angela only two days earlier. With a sticker price of $15, it was more expensive than either of its competitors, though it did come with the kneading paddle, the instruction manual and even the original warranty card. Which, of course, actually makes the appliance less expensive than its competitors, as we’re having to buy parts for them. So the ABM-3600 may win the price portion of the Battle of the Bread Machines, but can it make bread?

Armed with a recipe for raisin bread from the aforementioned instruction manual, Angela and I were going to find out.

Referee Nickelbucket conducts a pregame inspection of today's competitor

Raisin Bread

8 oz. water
2 C white flour
1 1/2 T butter
1 1/2 T sugar
1 t salt
1 t cinnamon
2 1/4 t active dry yeast or 1 3/4 t quick dry yeast
1/2 C raisins

1. Add the ingredients to the machine's bread pan in the order listed, except for the raisins.
   
2. Add the raisins at the first indicator beep. Add raisins a few at a time.

Yield: 1 lb. loaf

Nutritional Info
Not provided. But it can't be that bad for you, can it?

The ABM-3600 turned out to be a breeze to use. After throwing in the initial ingredients and setting the controls, we had to tend to the bread maker only twice, once to scrape the sides of the pan to make sure everything was being mixed properly and once to add the raisins.

Two hours and 40 minutes after it started, the ABM-3600 had produced our very first loaf of bread! And what did the judges of this little competition think of it?

Well, it certainly looks edible

Official Results for Competitor #1
While thrilled that the bread maker lived up to its billing by, well, making bread, the judges must regretfully deduct points due to the loaf falling somewhat during baking. (The instruction manual indicates that we may have used too much water, but Angela suspects there may be other forces at work.) As a result, the loaf has a denser consistency—somewhat like a muffin—but still tastes pretty good. Angela thinks it came out a little sour and could use more cinnamon next time, and she’s probably right.

So the ABM-3600, in its first attempt, produces good but not great bread. Will its brother, the Welbilt Bread Machine model ABM-100-3, prove to be a stronger competitor? Or will we be forced to buy a kneading paddle for the Breadman model TL555LC so it can also participate in the Battle of the Bread Machines?

Check back tomorrow to find out!

I Make a Decent Pot of Brown Rice--and Other Miracles

I like Thursdays. They're better than my Fridays for various reasons. For one, Thursdays are often my best days to experiment in the kitchen thanks to our food schedule here at Chez Boeckman-Walker. Today has been no exception.

About That Pot of Brown Rice
Often by the time Thursday rolls around, I've already identified what I'm going to attempt to make. This week, I knew on Tuesday that I wanted to try out the sriracha-glazed chicken and onions recipe I'd found thanks to MyRecipe.com's weekly chicken recipes a-go-go email. The recipe calls for a bag of boil-in-bag long-grain rice, of which my pantry is bereft. Boil-in-the-bag brown rice? Check. Ten-pound bag (minus a few pounds) of basmati? Check. Five-pound bag of jasmine rice? Check. One-pound bag of long-grain (I think) brown rice? Check.

Ahh, dilemmas....

Since I've decided that I prefer brown rice with sriracha-anything, I knew coming in to Thursday that we'd be enjoying brown rice. But which one to use? On one hand, I felt that since I had a lot of time on my hands, why not make it from scratch? On the other hand, I have a piss-poor track record when it comes to making brown rice from scratch.

I know, I know, Gentle Reader, it's not that damn hard to boil some water with rice in it, cover it, simmer and wind up with an edible pot of rice. But for me it's damn hard. When I've tried it, my rice usually turns out chewy with lots of fairly solid grains mixed in or hard and dry. I've tried it in a pressure cooker, in a nonstick pot, in a regular pot and in a skillet--all to disastrous results.

But not tonight! For this time, Gentle Reader, I followed the directions on the package. Revolutionary thinking, t'ain't it? Yet it's true: I decided to humble myself by following the manufacturer's preparation suggestions and set aside my own understanding of how to make rice based on my own experiences--most of them successful--making jasmine, basmati, short-grain and regular 'ol white rice.

Which means that I put in two cups of water to the cup of rice I needed. No more shorting the water content as I do when making jasmine and basmati, for if I were to do the 2:1 ratio of water to rice with those other rices, I'd wind up with mush. And I also made sure the cooking brown rice was truly at a simmer, which is damn tough when you're not supposed to lift the lid during the 40 to 50 minutes the stuff's cooking.

After 50 minutes or so, I lifted the lid-and-towel combo I'd used to cover my pot of rice (the towel, in case you're wondering, Gentle Reader, absorbs the condensation from the lid, preventing it from dripping back down into the rice and making it mushy) and--miracle of miracles!--I had a pot of rice that looked just like the stuff that I produce in 8 minutes or so of preparing my favorite boil-in-the-bag brown rice. I was beyond ecstatic.

Topping the Rice
And by topping I mean that which went atop the rice, not some achievement that surpassed my success with the rice.

Let me start this section with an apology to you, Gentle Reader. I'm sorry that I've failed to well-document my love of Thai sweet chili sauce, sometimes called Mae Ploy because that's probably the most ubiquitous brand of the stuff. It's not to be confused with Thai chili sauce, or sriracha--although I do it constantly. And, mea culpa, I did it with this recipe too.

Don't get me wrong, Gentle Reader. I like hot and spicy stuff. However, I don't like sriracha that much because, well, it looks practically identical to my beloved Thai sweet chili sauce. Therefore, when I put sriracha on stuff at, say, Pei Wei, my taste buds expect that enticing combination of sweet and heat--and are totally screwed by sriracha's lack of sweet. I don't like to disappoint my taste buds. I value them greatly.

Sriracha-glazed Chicken and Onions Over Rice1 3.5-oz. bag boil-in-bag long-grain rice
3 T hoisin sauce
1 T ketchup
1 1/4 t Sriracha
1 1/2 T canola oil
1 1/2 C presliced onion
1 T bottled minced fresh ginger
1 T bottled minced garlic
3/4 t curry powder
1 lb. skinless, boneless chicken breast, cut into 1" thick slices

1. Prepare the rice according to the package directions, omitting the salt and fat.
   
2. While the rice cooks, combine the hoisin, ketchup and sriracha in a small bowl.
   
3. Heat the oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat.
   
4. Add the onion and sauté 3 min. or until tender.
   
5. Add the ginger, garlic, curry powder and chicken, then sauté 6 min. or until the chicken is done.
   
6. Stir in the hoisin mixture and cook 1 min., tossing to coat.
   
7. Serve over rice.

Yield: 4 servings (serving size: 3/4 C chicken mixture and about 1/2 C rice)

Nutritional Info
Calories: 326
Fat: 7.3 g
Sat fat: 0.9 g
Protein: 29.5 g
Carbs: 34 g
Fiber: 2.2 g
Cholesterol: 66 mg
Sodium: 338 mg

The Faudie's Futzings
You can surely tell by browsing through the recipe, Gentle Reader, that this recipe is geared for those harried, stressed cooks with little time on their hands but a need to make a meal relatively from scratch. Presliced onions? Such things exist? Fuckaroo, people, how lazy and/or harried are you?

• I minced my own ginger, but I'll admit to using some of my bottled minced garlic because I'm out of garlic cloves.
  
• I used maybe half of the canola oil called for, if even that much. I didn't feel I needed that much.
  
• Instead of tossing the garlic, ginger, curry powder and chicken in all at once, I first put in the curry and stirred it around until it became fragrant because, dammit, I love the smell of warm curry powder. Then I put in the ginger, stirred a little bit while I struggled to get the tablespoon of ginger together. I would have put the garlic in before the ginger, which is something I learned from Indian cookbooks, but I'd stowed my minced ginger in the tablespoon I needed for the garlic, thus it had to go in first. Anywho, once the ginger and garlic became fragrant, then I started adding the chicken. Gads, did my kitchen ever smell heavenly!

I suspect, Gentle Reader, that the finished product would have a slightly different flavor if I'd used sriracha instead of sweet chili sauce because I suspect the hot chili sauce has a flavor profile that more closely matches the hoisin sauce and--shudder--the ketchup. Was my version delicious? Very much!

Gorgeous rice, don't you think?

Speaking of sriracha and hoisin, I fail to understand why this recipe is dubbed sriracha-glazed chicken etc. when sriracha is used in such a small quantity. Why not just call it hoisin-glazed chicken and onions over rice? Is there some strong, preexisting prejudice out there against hoisin sauce? Is Thai food really that much more...sexy for foodies and readers of Cooking Light, in which the recipe was originally published back in April 2005? I mean, I understand from a conversation with my older sister that at one point Thai food really took off because Whitey McWhitey decided it was more healthful than Chinese food.

Or at least that's what she said when I asked why it seemed a certain neighborhood we were driving through in Chicago at that time had a Thai restaurant on every other block. She could have been totally making that up, but it seemed plausible to me.

"This is truely the greatest recipe of all time."

Here's a recipe I could have written, particularly if I'd been taken over by the ghost of Poppy Cannon:

Angel Food Cupcakes
Revolutionary culinary thinking in this one, Gentle Reader. Be sure to read the reviews if you want to keep laughing.

Am I Eating Breakfast or Am I Being Brainwashed?

Who doesn't love a cereal mascot! They're childhood companions. They're breakfast buddies.

They're evil sonsabitches.

Yeah, they're evil sonsabitches.

Many Happy (?) Returns

A funny thing happened yesterday afternoon. The phone rang--and no, that's not the funny thing, although it is a rare occurrence here at Chez Boeckman-Walker since we're antisocial folks, save the boy--and on the other end of the line was a clerk from a local women's sports apparel boutique. She was calling to let me know that I'd put my contact info on the store's sign-up sheet (last October) to be alerted when Nike finally released the Nike Sportsband v2.0.

Remember the Nike sportsband, Gentle Reader? Bought my first one on July 26. Had to return it and the replacement I was given for my original in August. Was told by the folks at Bettysport that Nike planned to have an improved unit out in time for the holidays--and never saw word one about it. Gave up on the damn thing in January and switched to the Nike+ iPod attachment.

Well, it's back. In a limited quantity to, in the words of the Bettysport clerk, raise interest in the product. Hah! More like make the initial buyers (suckers) beta testers to determine if v2.0 actually is more moisture-resistant. Anywho, the store's sister store, Rogue Running, was generously given 18 of the 55 total (she seemed to recall) distributed for sale in Texas. If I hurried, I could get one for the same price I'd paid for my original one a year ago.

Yeah, thanks but no thanks. Sure, v2.0 has, according to CNET, "a welded seal to improve water resistance" and "a screen with a white background to enhance visibility," but I'm just not going to a buyer. For starters, I don't need it since I use the iPod-based version of Nike's tracking system (and I've learned to live with the limitations of that system). More importantly, I've been burned twice now by being an "early adopter" (aka, paying beta tester), and I'm not going to go through that rigmarole again. I'm still carting around my iPod shuffle that's largely unusable because the damn earphone controls have konked out, leaving me unable to adjust the volume, pause playback or skip songs--functions that are all must-haves when running in a gym that often has the bad music cranked up and the obnoxious fitness instructor screaming into her microphone with her music blaring and the classroom doors wide open.

Oh, and the new sportsband colors are fugly. Pink and grey? Yellow and grey? Sure, there's red and grey, but...meh. Not my thing.

Speaking of Things Happening 9 Months Later....
I returned to yoga today. After a nine-month sabbatical, I teaching yoga again. And at Gold's to boot!

Why didn't I return to Yoga Yoga, you ask, Gentle Reader? For a few reasons. After so much time away, I didn't think I'd get a slot on the schedule at a time when I wanted to teach. Its teacher training program is churning out teachers every six or nine months, I think, and so many of them wind up teaching there, so I didn't think a long-absent teacher stood a candle of a chance against long-time instructors and new, excited, dedicated ones.

I think, though, the big reason for not returning to YoYo is that...the place has changed. It's not the same cozy community I enjoyed once. It's become fragmented, even more erratic (you'd think there'd be more cohesion since this is a business, after all, about yoga--union) and, well, just too big and with too many dreams and too little follow through. Maybe I just feel that way because I was one of the few teachers who worked fulltime elsewhere. Perhaps if I taught and worked the front desk or managed one of the studios or did some other "regular employee" work, maybe I wouldn't have felt unattached and disregarded. But even when I was able to spend more time at the studios and I was teaching several classes, I still felt some...left out.

Of course, Gentle Reader, all those feelings are somewhat ironic considering I'm now working for an organization that's adopted a tremendous corporate culture and doesn't really give a rat's ass about its yoga teachers. And y'know what? I knew that already, and I'm totally fine with that. I can teach at Gold's because there's no veneer of cozy, intimate community. There's no sham anyone's attempting to perpetrate.

Returning to Gold's to return to teaching is, in a way, returning me to my beginnings. I started doing yoga there. I started teaching there. Going back and bringing everything I've learned to a lot of folks who would probably be too intimidated to set foot in a yoga studio is something I want to do because those people need yoga just as much as the folks who go to the studios. So, I guess...

Welcome hOMe!

The Universe Beats Me Over the Head With a Simple Message

In today's post, I'm going to attempt to explain my interest in bread machines and making the boys' bread, as I promised earlier, along with a few other things that have captured my attention. Bear with me, Gentle Reader, because this post will probably come off somewhere between high-minded, intellectual and rational pontificating and tinfoil hat-wearing ranting.

Let the fun begin, eh?

That Simple Message, Delivered Repeatedly, in the Chronicle of a Year
As you probably well know, Gentle Reader, over the past year or more, I've learned to really pay close attention to what I put in my body to nourish it and what I offer my family to nourish them. Initially, that attention came as a result of my most recent weight loss success and my vow to keep the weight off without winding up on some silly eating routine that essentially starved my body of certain key nutrients.

However, as the weeks and months passed and my interests in the culinary arts really began to dovetail with my longstanding interest in health, fitness and health care, my reasons for being so fussy about what the family and I eat began to expand. For example, we hoped a more keen sense of the nutritional value of foods we offered the boy would help him behave better at school (not that we were feeding him shit in the first place). I began to see an alarming--yet not entirely surprising--uptick in the number of food product recall alerts from the FDA. Our addiction to fresh veggies, fruits and herbs, not to mention bread that didn't have high fructose corn syrup as the second ingredient, didn't wane even when our bank balance began to decline.

Having been raised by parents who for many years had a fairly abundant garden, some of which was pickled, preserved, frozen or in some other fashioned canned for later use by Mum, and who for many years bought half a slaughtered cow's worth of meat for the deep freeze and who grew up on the farm and still had siblings farming, my instincts to try my hand at raising some of my own family's favorite items were spot-on. Of course, all my previous attempts to tend to anything green have largely failed, but I thought surely this time my interest in reducing our grocery bill and knowing better just how those produce items were cultivated would keep those growing greens healthy and alive and--dare I dream it?--fruitful.

But not only did I try to start some container gardening on the yoga patio (with a tremendous amount of starting-off help from Mum), I also got around to reading Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. This book had sat on my to-read pile for almost a year before I got around to reading it. I kept putting it off for other tomes, and I'll admit readily I was reluctant to read it because I wasn't in the mood for what I thought would be a crunchy-granola overgrown hippie diatribe on the orgasmic bliss of growing one's own food and devoting one's entire food budget to all things organic and to hell with everything else in a twisted, slavish devotion to the cause.

Thankfully, I was wrong.

The book is, I think, an even-handed look at one family's attempt to eat locally for one year by raising many of their own foods--including meat items--and acquiring what they could not make themselves from local sources. If memory serves, "local" for Kingsolver and her family meant raised within 100 miles of their Appalachian home. They take on this experiment not for any zealot-like principles per se. It's more common sense: Food that's grown elsewhere or processed elsewhere costs us all in many ways a lot of us consumers have yet to acknowledge. Economics, environmental conservation, good health and good old-fashioned self-sufficiency meld in a way that just, well, strikes me as good common sense.

Kingsolver, her husband (the bread-maker of the family, hence one of the key sparks of my interest in making bread) and her college-age daughter collaborate on the book. While Kingsolver the professional novelist records the family's year-long experiment, her husband Steven Hopp supplies sidebars that connect the family's activities to broader movements and "Hey, did you know?" topics, while the daughter supplements each chapter with recipes referenced within and meal planning ideas. None of the three ever get on a soap box and bash the reader over the head with their ideas, and the natural flow of raising food provides enough fodder for drama and just plain, good storytelling.

Of course, if you are somewhat conscious of issues with today's food production, then some of the stuff in the book, particularly in Hopp's sidebars, won't be as shocking as they might be to other, less-aware readers. For example, Hopp dedicates one sidebar to the nutritional differences that result from the different techniques for raising and processing animal flesh and byproducts, particularly bovine and poultry meat, bovine milk and poultry eggs, for human consumption. (Having covered international pharmaceutical and biotech firms for a number of years, I know a surprising lot about the origins of bovine spongiform encephalopathy, aka mad cow disease, and its human form, Jakob-Creutzfeld disease. It's disgusting how cheap agribusiness is when it comes to feeding fellow humans, and it's honestly a wonder how so many of us around the globe haven't dropped dead from terrible health problems related to the consumption of mass-produced meat.) He reveals that cows and chickens that are allowed to eat the way the design committee of the universe intended them to eat are not only less prone to infections and health issues that make them dangerous for human consumption, but their meats and byproducts (milk, eggs) also have better nutritional profiles and flavors. Eggs from free-range chickens have less "bad" fats and more "good" omega fatty acids than eggs from chickens raised in cages amongst their filth that are pumped full of antibiotics and feed that contains, among other things, slaughtered animal byproducts.

With this in mind, is it any wonder that (a) the number of salmonella contaminations have occurred lately and (b) the FDA recently announced new measures to curtail salmonella contamination?

But again, Gentle Reader, if you have any awareness of where your food really comes from and how it's produced and what kind of issues are being raised about our food supply, such revelations that Hopp makes are not shocking. I mean, some of the things I hadn't read before, but they were conclusions that I determined for myself made sense because of what I know.

And then there are the discussions about big agribusiness' quest to control through patents and IP and genetic engineering the world's crop production.... Gads, it's really quite frightening what people are driven to do for big money, and anyone who eats pays the price. I have uncles from both sides of my family who grow wheat (or at least try their hardest to do it), my dad still helps with harvest each year on the farm where he grew up, and one of my uncles manages (or at least I think he still does) the local mill. These are, by and large, honest men working hard and trying to do the right thing, but the "right thing" has become twisted and corrupted by agribusiness, which cheapens their work and cheapens our lives. Our health--hell, our very lives really do depend on changes taking place at these early stages, at this ground level of our food supply.

The Message Gets Animated
Then there was that episode of King of the Hill....

While I wish I could share with you the entire "Raise the Steaks" episode, just know that Hank resorts to shopping at--and "volunteering" at--the local food co-op because he's tired of buying tough, tasteless steaks at the Mega-Lo Mart, which eventually takes over the co-op, forcing Hank to rescue the cows the co-op farm was raising for its meat market. Hilarious episode and I swear lines of dialogue were lifted from Animal, Vegetable, Mineral, especially when one of the characters (I think it was Hank) gushes over his slice of tomato have ::gasp:: flavor!

Here's a fun clip:

Airing as it did as I was in the final chapters of Animal, Vegetable, Mineral and contemplating the acquisition of a bread machine and lamenting that farmers' markets in the area are held at times that are not convenient for me and feeling so frustrated that all my herbs had died and that my bell pepper plants would not be bearing fruit, I couldn't help but see this episode as just another bap on the head from the universe to do more.

Reality...and Reality
I recognize the truth in Animal, Vegetable, Mineral and in the PRs I revise and upload to dailyrx.com about food recalls and in "Raise the Steaks." I would dearly love to live that truth--to have a much more intimate knowledge and awareness of the foods I prepare and eat.

But here's another reality, one that Kingsolver also acknowledges to some degree: Making choices that promote environmentally responsible and healthful food production and consumption is tough, requires some degree of sacrifice a lot of us aren't willing to make and can seem awfully expensive, especially when money is tight. And here's another reality that she doesn't acknowledge to much extent: Not all people and not all geographic areas are well-suited now for food production that could sustain a person in some meaningful way.

I'm one of those people. I don't have the patience, the knowledge, the knack, the intuition and all that other stuff that it really does take to grow food. As I was reading Animal, Vegetable, Mineral, I found myself at times longing to live back home in Bumblefuck where the soil isn't hard, inhospitable clay and where there is space to raise a respectable garden and where the culture is a tad more connected to the cultivation of food. I found myself envious of my mother's knack for growing things successfully and knowing when to water and when not to water and when to prune and how to prune and where to plant and where not to plant. In a word, I can't grow shit--not even cilantro in a pot, which any idiot should be able to do--so self-sufficiency to any degree is out for me!

Compounding my incompetence is the local weather. Spring here starts in late January, early February. Summer starts in late April. Summer ends in late October. While that's great weather, for the most part, for outdoor enthusiasts, folks who have health conditions that can be exacerbated by cold weather and summer fun-lovin' fools, it really does suck for trying to grow anything. A plant doesn't really do well when the temperatures go from the pleasant 80s one week to the blazing triple digits the next. Yeah, sure, Gentle Reader, you can preach all you want about xeriscaping and native plants, but I would dare to say that thanks to climate change, even plants that once were native have a hard time thriving because their natural habitat has changed.

Which leads me to another point: No matter how much you work to use healthful, environmentally responsible techniques for cultivating your food, you're still doing it in a global climate that is hardly free of pollution. As a highly respected Ayurveda practitioner once counseled a group of yoga teachers, people today are hard-pressed to benefit from the techniques and advice contained in ancient texts because our world is polluted, and not just with environmental pollutants. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, Gentle Reader? It's sort of like living in Europe in the years after the Chernobyl disaster and trying to claim that your mountain retreat offers pure, unpolluted air, water and land. Uh-uh, it's just not possible. Hell, I recall reading just a few years ago how the radiation contamination from Chernobyl is still polluting Europe. It's not like that stuff just goes away!

So what's a person to do? For me, the only way I can rectify things is to make conscious decisions whenever I can. I'll try to buy local produce when I can, but I'm not going to burn up a tank of gas trying to get it from the really nice farmers' market in South Austin. I'd love to buy local, free-range chicken, but doing so would get me whole chickens that would largely be wasted--and being wasteful in my mind is a big, big crime that ought to be avoided as much as possible.

Just as I've gone to extremes in the past to keep my weight at a certain point, only to mistreat my body, I'm not going to go to far-flung extremes to keep in line with certain ideologies. I'll do more to choose fresh produce that's in season; I'll be more conscious about choosing produce that's had to travel a long way to get to me and has had to undergone some really nasty stuff to reach me in a visually appealing state. I'll try my hand at making the boys' bread so the high fructose corn syrup stays out and more whole grains--from organic sources, if I can afford it--go in. And the entire time, I'll be berating myself for not doing more.

Getting Closer....

Remember, Gentle Reader, how I said I probably wouldn't hit the 2,000-mile mark by the time my one-year anniversary of tracking my running mileage with Nike+? Remember how I said I'd nevertheless try like hell to do it?

Yeah, I'm true to my word!


I still don't think I'm going to hit 2,000 miles by July 28. For starters, I just don't have the time. Secondly, I've noticed that when I ride my bike to the gym, my running pace drops from about 8:05 min./mile to 8:18 min./mile, which makes the run not quite so fun and more frustrating.

But do you know what does help, Gentle Reader? New shoes. This week, I started sporting a new pair of running shoes, and wowee! what a difference! My feet feel like they're floating--it's so sweet.

Well, 12 days left. Let's see how far I can get!

Goodwill Hunting

For a multitude of reasons that I will discuss in a forthcoming post, I started contemplating the acquisition of a bread machine over the weekend. An odd thing to contemplate for one who doesn't each much bread, who didn't grow up in a house with a bread-baking tradition (Jiffy cornbread mixes and Bisquick were good enough for Mum, although on extra-special occasions when I was a little kid, she'd whip up some Parker House rolls) and who has never in her life even contemplated baking bread from scratch herself.

And yet now I'm a person with two bread machines. Go figure!

"But bread machines aren't cheap!" you say, Gentle Reader? You would be right, more or less. The be-all-end-all of bread machines (at least for some folks), the Zojirushi BBCC-X20, sells in most places for $214 and some change. For that price, admittedly, you get some nice features (whose usefulness may not be so, but what do I know?). After all, it's made in Japan, home of the world's best and most amusing toilets. If a Japanese toilet can warm your ass, lift and lower the lid automatically and play chimes to cover up the sound of your biological processes--along with releasing deodorizing spray to cover up the smell of them, imagine what a Japanese bread machine can do!

Ugh, forgot I said that. I don't want you imagining what a Japanese-made bread machine can do. That's just sick and sad, Gentle Reader.

Of course, lower-end models are also available. With fewer features and without the dependability and durability (from what I've read) of Japanese-made machines (yes, Zojirushi is the Honda of kitchen appliances), the quality-to-price ratio of these also-rans proves the dictum about getting what you pay for. And I'm not terribly keen on paying $50 to $100 for a machine that konks out after a few loaves. (That's also why I buy Hondas.)

So if a person with a hankering to experiment with bread-making without doing all the hard work doesn't have the funds to make her experiment a reality, what's she to do? Give up? Suck it up and try bread-making the old-fashioned, calorie-burning, bicep-building way?

Hell no! She goes to Goodwill!

Adventures in Trash-Diving
As several bread machine message board folks noted, many people are reluctant recipients of bread machines. Nothing says love or admiration or best wishes, I suppose, in the minds of some gift-givers like a bread machine. So these reluctant recipients might try out that machine once or twice or, if you're in the market for a super-cheap bread machine, pitch it at the local Goodwill or other thrift store without even bothering to open it.

With such tales of majorly discounted finds in mind, I stopped off at the local Goodwill store on my bike ride home from the gym yesterday. Sure enough, the store had a machine on its shelves, one from Welbilt, a brand I'd read about with largely positive reviews online and made in Japan to boot. However, instead of an unopened or barely used gem, the Welbilt Bread Machine ABM-350-3 available for $12 at my local store had clearly been used: The bread pan had a few scratches, and the well into which the pan goes had a number of crumbs inside. Given its condition and given that I was on my bike and didn't have any money on me, I left it sitting on the shelf for another seeker.

However, the experience gave me hope. And yes, Gentle Reader, I know how ridiculous I sound. Buying any kind of appliance that uses electricity from a thrift store is a situation rife with danger. You could overpay (yes, I am that cheap). You could wind up with a machine that doesn't work at all. You could wind up with a machine that's a household hazard that fries your house's electrical wiring the moment you plug it in and turn it on.

I raced home and shot an email to the husband, telling him about my find and telling him about my sudden, overwhelming desire to go Goodwill hunting. I told him I knew the risks, and I'm not just talking the dangerous appliance risk. Here in Austin, Goodwill and other thrift stores are not just for folks of modest means. No, it's not uncommon to see a Mercedes, a BMW or other high-end luxury cars (and not beat-to-hell, old models either!) parked out front. "Shabby chic" might be a long-dead trend, but bargain- and just plain crappola-hunters abound here in Austin. Which means some hoity-toity, Bimmer-driving soccer mom could get that cheap, barely used Zojirushi before I did! Dammit, that's how urgent my desire was to hit the Goodwills.

Of course, Goodwill hunting requires strategy, just as garage sale-going does. You don't hit the ones in the ghetto if you want good stuff. No, you hit the ones near "better" neighborhoods. While such a strategy typically works, it also has its downside: Being in proximity to those Bimmer-driving soccer moms means those bitches might get your stuff before you do. Now can you understand my urgency, Gentle Reader?

At this point I have to give kudos to the husband because he managed to surprise me in his response to my email. Not only was he supportive of my Goodwill hunting, he actually wanted to join me in it as soon as he got home from work. Why is this surprising? Because he'd once made known to me quite clearly his distaste for thrift stores and thrift store purchases. (Now when I told him as much later in the evening, he said he felt so such thing and didn't recall ever saying it. Perhaps I was wrong, or perhaps he had changed his mind or his feelings hadn't been that strong. Who knows.)

So with the husband on board and enthusiastic--for he shared my curiosity and enthusiasm for exploring the world of bread-making--we headed out shortly before 5 with three particular destinations in mind.

Store #1
I figured finding anything at this location at a relatively major intersection in north Austin was a long shot. Given its size and location and predilection for attracting Bimmer-driving soccer moms, I really didn't think we'd find anything except the "usual" collection of frighteningly antiquated kitchen goods.

How wrong I was!

After touring the fairly large collection of books while listening to this poor toddler wail in a heart-wrenching and ignored plea for food (trust me, Gentle Reader, the kid really had to be suffering to wrench my heart, the husband and I strolled along the racks of dresses (Frugal bride tip: Send your bridesmaids to Goodwill with the instructions to get whatever dress each one likes all in the same color because it's totally doable, at least at this location) and ambled back to housewares. The section was fairly sizable and did in fact have a large collection of frighteningly antiquated kitchen goods. But what fun to poke through them and have a laugh!

Then there on the back wall, sitting amongst shelves of old, nasty-looking microwaves and toasters and toaster ovens and fondue pots from the '70s, we found them. Side by side. Waiting for us.

What you're looking at, Gentle Reader, is a Welbilt Bread Machine model ABM-100-3 and a Salton Breadman model TL555LC. (The R2-D2-looking one is the Welbilt.)

As you can see, they're covered in price stickers, but let's make this fun, shan't we, Gentle Reader? Guess how much the two of 'em combined set me back. No, really. Guess.

Nope, not $24. Go lower.

Nope, not that low.

Okay, you suck at guessing, Gentle Reader. The pair together with tax cost $15 and some change. Yeah, that's right--just a few bucks more than the one I saw that morning. The R2 unit was $6 and the Breadman was $8. When I got around to taking off the stickers this morning, I saw they'd originally been marked for somewhere in the teens--maybe $12 like that other Welbilt.

I was thrilled but cautious. After all, I had no way of knowing before buying them if they even worked. Nevertheless, we loaded up our purchases, pleased as punch, and opted to keep looking because the two we'd found might turn out to be duds (hopefully not duds that would involve reimbursement from homeowners insurance and electrical contractors) and because, hey, the husband and I actually have a secret fondness for poking around collection of old shit just to see what we can see. Antique malls are great for that, and so too are Goodwills!

Store #2
Our second destination was not so much a Goodwill store but its north Austin outlet. I honestly had zero expectations for finding anything here, but I was curious to see what kind of stuff winds up at a Goodwill outlet--that stays open until midnight. Yeah, midnight, Gentle Reader.

And find out we did! Woo boy, if you've ever had fantasies about rummaging around a garbage dump, then hit your local Goodwill Blue Hanger Outlet. The big warehouse had about a dozen very long rows of tables upon which were lined up large, shallow plastic bins. Upon entering the warehouse, we could see that what those bins contained was, well, largely garbage.

Want a cracked, ugly-ass vase from the '60s? Goodwill Blue Hanger Outlet has it. Want one little girl's white patent-leather dress sandal, size unknown because the shoe's so worn? Goodwill Blue Hanger Outlet has it. Want old photos from the FSM knows who? How about an old-fashioned sticky-page photo album to store them in? Well, you're in luck because Goodwill Blue Hanger Outlet has 'em.

Scary confession: As much fun as it was finding the bread machines, wandering those rows of refuse bins, poking around but trying hard not to touch was a helluva lotta fun. One guy had found himself an old curtain rod and was using it to rummage through the bins, so pin one on him for his ingenuity. But really, Gentle Reader, if you ever want to see what happens to the shit and shinola you toss Goodwill's way and feel moderately guilty over "donating," then go to a Blue Hanger Outlet.

Scary confession #2: We bought two items there.

As we were headed out, I just had to gawk at the wedding dresses for sale. I'm a sucker for wedding dresses, especially ones that have been tossed off by former brides. While I laughed at the '80s-style beading and sequins, the husband glanced into a shopping cart beside the rack that was filled with...well, maybe it was just garbage and maybe they were items some shopper had been forced to abandon for lack of funds. Whatever the reason, the husband suddenly lit up: He'd found a pack of playing cards from Lucasfilm. These weren't ordinary Star Wars-themed cards. No, these had been gimmes at some kind of job fair or recruiting event, for a link to Lucasfilm's online HR was printed on the box. A quick count revealed only one was missing, but did that deter the husband?

Yeah, that's right. Hell no.

And since he was buying something, I decided I'd go ahead and get the brand new-looking "I Used to Be a Plastic Bag" bag from Whole Foods. Not that I need another damn reusable grocery bag, but...hey, it's there.

Grand total for this stop: $1.08. Hot damn!

Since it was only 6 p.m. and we were high on our luck, we decided we'd trek out to the final location on my gotta-hit list. It's located near the park at Brushy Creek and seemed like it might be promising for a few reasons. For starters, it's near a more affluent area of the more rural 'burbs, where those die-hard-yet-monied rednecks buy several acres on which to build their McMansions because that need for lots of space away from them city slickers just has to be met--those same die-hard-et-monied rednecks who probably wouldn't be caught dead parking their ultra-expensive SUVs and pickups in front of a Walgreen's, let alone shopping there. Secondly the Goodwill store is housed in a building that looks a helluva lot like a Walgreen's except (a) was built new for Goodwill and (b) is across the parking lot from a Walgreen's.

Store #3
While this location is near a redneck-but-monied area of Austinville (that's how I think of all the rinky-dink towns that ring Austin that once were somewhat distance from the city but are now basically suburbs filled with expat Austinoids seeking lower property taxes) with a population that wouldn't be caught dead shopping at Goodwill, it's also a fair distance from the crunchy-granola tie-dye-wearing overgrown hippies and wannabes who live in Austin who discard the more interesting stuff, such as bread machines. I can't imagine redneck brides and grooms being gifted with such things. Their "thanks but no thanks" gifts would probably include Texas Hold 'em sets, their dozenth set of BBQ tools and countertop rotisseries. And yes, Gentle Reader, we did find one or two countertop rotisseries at this location.

My instincts proved true here. No bread machines. But we did find a few pieces of blue cornflower Corningware (that'll spark some nostalgia), a big set of Legos up for bids (yes, Goodwill of Central Texas holds weekly auctions for some items to try to capture a share of the auction market that eBay hasn't already captured) that the boy would probably love but doesn't need, as well as a Combi (made in Japan!) stroller that I would have loved to have had back when the boy might have needed one. Okay, we actually did have a Combi back when the boy might have needed one, but it was much bigger and bulkier than this model, and it was barely used since the boy was a big fan of being carted about in his Hip Hugger sling.

Empty-handed but not full of despair, we left and headed down the street for the latest addition to the Half-Price Books family. There I bought four books of recipes for bread machines. Yeah, I know, four kinda seems like overkill, Gentle Reader, but you're thinking that about a woman who had, at the time of purchase, two bread machines in her car. Chew on that, Gentle Reader.

The Morning After
Since it was damn near 8 p.m. by the time we got home and I was famished, the husband and I hauled our booty in to the kitchen and just left it there. Overnight, I concocted a plan that I thought would allow us to safely test basic functioning of the bread machines without putting ourselves and our home in too much potential jeopardy.

This morning after breakfast, I set up a power strip on an isolated socket in the kitchen. While the husband watched and my feline children did their best to be either underfoot or directly in my way, I plugged in one machine with the power strip off, then turned on the power strip and prayed for the best. Luckily, both machines lit up without any smoke, sparks, groaning, release of ozone or other signs of faulty electricity flow-through. Huzzah!

Unfortunately, I won't know for a few weeks to come if they really work because I've had to order replacement kneading paddles for both, and they'll take some time to arrive. By then, we should be all ready for a full-out test. The husband's identified a few recipes in the books I bought that he's keen to try out, and I'm already preparing a mental list of ingredients I need to make sure we have on hand for the big event.

Oh, and we plan to add some blue painter's masking tape to the Welbilt machine so it'll look more like R2. It's the least I can do to get my Star Wars-loving boys excited about this little experiment.

Which begs the question, Can we here at Chez Boeckman-Walker become bread bakers? Stay tuned, Gentle Reader, to find out.