The Many Uses and Abuses of Coca-Cola

Up until the fine folks at Coca-Cola brought back the original formula of Coke, albeit improved with high fructose corn syrup, my one true soda love was Coke. Sure, I got the occasional Sprite at the K-Mart cafeteria, but I was a Coca-Cola kid. That's not to say that I drank the stuff by the gallon as a tot. Soda wasn't as ubiquitous a drink back when I was a kid as it is today, plus we were too poor to buy it by the gallon.

Anywho, as times have changed and the unchecked distribution of the family of Coke beverages along with Coke nostalgia and Coke culture have become a relatively huge force in the world, I've noticed how the beverage has...um, transcended drink-of-choice with fast-food burgers and fries for many folks to become a more...um, commonplace household item. I mean, we've all heard about using Coke to clean corrosion off batteries, right? While poking around the Internet, I found Rob's Coke Room has dedicated a page to various household uses of the stuff, including as a meat tenderizer.

Additionally, Coke seems to be somewhat popular as an ingredient, particularly in recipes birthed in kitchens in its Southern home. The elder sister sent along this one, published recently in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution:

Coca-Cola Sloppy Joes1.5 pounds lean ground beef or turkey
1 large onion, chopped
1 C Coca-Cola
1 C thick, tomato-based barbecue sauce
6 hamburger buns

1. In a nonstick skillet over medium-high heat, brown the beef or turkey with the onion until the onion is soft and the meat is no longer pink, about 5-10 minutes.
   
2. Reduce heat to medium, stir in cola and barbecue sauce and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until sauce is thickened to desired consistency, another 10-15 minutes.
   
3. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
   
4. Toast cut side of buns, if desired, under broiler or in a skillet.
   
5. Heap mixture onto buns and serve.

I'm fighting the urge to vomit as I type this up. I'm not even going to post the nutritional info out of sheer disgust, but if you want to see it, check AJC.com.

If you haven't lost your gorge, Gentle Reader, check out this Coke-fueled delight from the yellowed pages of my Culinary Arts Institute Encyclopedic Cookbook of the early 1970s:

Cola Marsh Sherbet24 marshmallows
2 C cola beverage
2 T lemon juice
1/8 t salt

1. Place the marshmallows and 2 tablespoons of cola beverage in a saucepan.
   
2. Head slowly, folding over and over until marshmallows are about half melted.
   
3. Remove from heat and continue folding until mixture is smooth and fluffy.
   
4. Cool slightly, then add remaining cola beverage, salt and lemon juice.
   
5. Blend thoroughly.
   
6. Pour into freezing tray of refigerator and freeze until firm, stirring 2 or 3 times while freezing.

Yield: 4 or 5

Mercifully, editor Ruth Berolzheimer chose not to include an amber- and orange-saturated photo of this concoction, so use your imagination, Gentle Reader. Unfortunately, the husband has used his imagination quite a bit on this one and seems to think it's one I ought to make.

"Not in this lifetime" is a phrase he should know well by now.

Of course, if you really want to go Southern-disgusting on a Coke-based dessert, there's always deep-fried Coke:
And that's why state fairs have earned the reputations they have. ::shudder::

Dumb Things Vehiclists Do

I'm a vehiclist. Some days I'm a motor vehiclist, and some days I'm a bicycle vehiclist. Lately, I'm more the latter than the former, and that's given me plenty of food for thought, particularly combined with observations of other bicycle vehiclists.

Realize, Gentle Reader, that being a bicyclist in Austin is nothing out of the ordinary. Lots of other cities have a good number of folks who try to bike to wherever they need to go, and they also probably have a good number of recreational cyclists. Nor do I suppose Austin's the only city with a rather vehement bikes-versus-autos never-ending battle. But, seeing as how this is Texas and, well, "everything's bigger in Texas," that catchphrase might apply to Austin's ongoing spat between cyclists and autoists. Perhaps if we didn't have this misperception about size and the ensuing selfishness and self-centeredness that come hand in hand with such a misperception, perhaps that spat wouldn't be so vociferous.

(Of course, I also suspect that if a certain bodily organ of the men in Texas truly were "bigger," we wouldn't have the need to overcompensate with space-hogging trucks, roads, houses, properties and other personal possessions. But living within certain geographic boundaries does not impart physiological endowment, so some of us just have to live with others' delusions of the need for size and the very real consequences of those delusions. Le sigh.)

I'm sure you can fathom, Gentle Reader, the following equation for disaster:

Large autos with drivers who feel they have a divine right to all the paved space a roadway affords along with a divine right to drive their massive autos however the hell they choose

+

Cyclists lacking the shielding of a few hundred pounds or more of steel, fiberglass and other materials but who spent a pretty penny on their own chosen mode of transportation who are convinced that autoists are all the scourge of the world, that traffic laws do not apply to them even when they choose to ride in the roadways and that someone owes them something because they choose to use a vehicle that does not pollute the environment
=
Very real roadway danger + Stupidity by the truckload

Getting hit by a car or truck while riding a bike is a tragedy, but more often than not, the extenuating circumstances are such that the tragedy could have been avoided. Too many times, I've observed such circumstances that could easily lead to tragedy but, by the will of the FSM or some other force in the universe, tragedy does not occur. But just because a tragedy is avoided does not excuse the dumbass behavior!

That said, if you are a cyclist, Gentle Reader, I'd better not observe you doing these dumbass things:

• Riding with your iPod or other in-ear entertainment device in use. You are not shielded by a few hundred pounds of steel, fiberglass and other materials and do not have the luxury of air bags, safety harnesses, reinforcement bars, bumpers, etc. You need all your senses at your full disposal to pay attention to what the hell is going on around you, not jammin' out to your favorite tuneage.
  
• Riding without a helmet. Do you really think your cranium is going to hold up to the forces at play when it hits the hard pavement going even just a few miles per hour?
  
• Riding against traffic. Hello, dumbass, you are traffic. Would you drive your car against the tide of cars going the opposite direction? Or do you just prefer to see your gruesome death or dismemberment coming at you?
  
• Ignoring the rules of the road. Again, dumbass, you are traffic. The rules of the road apply to you. This does not mean you get to go wherever you want whenever you want. Traffic lights and signs apply to you.

This last one particularly galls me because (1) I see it so frequently and (2) it's just so self-centered--and that self-centeredness puts the cyclist and the autoists in potential jeopardy. For example, the other morning while biking to the gym, I observed a dumbass cyclist attempting to cross six lanes of traffic to continue on her merry way westbound despite the lights being green for the northbound-southbound traffic. Obviously, this woman thought her need to get to her destination faster or her desire not to have to come to a complete stop with her feet off the pedals trumped the traffic laws, not to mention common sense. But, hey, maybe I'm just silly and self-centered in my desire not to be a traffic hazard and to, y'know, stay alive.

Of course, cyclists aren't the only ones doing dumbass things on the road. Gentle Reader, you surely have seen your fair share of dumbass drivers wherever you live and wherever you've driven. And somehow I doubt the dumbass stuff I've observed when autoists and cyclists attempt to share the same roadway at the same time is unique to Austin, but nevertheless, I'd better never encounter you doing these things when you're using an auto while I'm riding my bike:

• Hugging the white line just to prove something. Trust me, cyclists know the dumbass in the auto that almost ran them off the road is in a larger, more dangerous vehicle. Cyclists also already know that there are autoists out there who resent having to share the road with cyclists, therefore we don't need you attempting to educate us. Or kill us.
  
• Hovering. In an attempt to stay out of a cyclist's way, some autoists hang back. In doing so, the autoist becomes a traffic hazard to her or his fellow autoists (I suspect this is one of the causes of road rage) and the cyclist, who must continually guess if the dumbass behind her or him is going to finally pass and move on or is trying to turn or what.
  
• Succumbing to road rage. Really, autoists, why do you need to get so damned worked up over a cyclist on the road? The road is not yours. Yes, you help pay for its maintenance with your tax dollars, but it does not belong to you. You are not entitled to its use. Share. Just like you did when you were a kid and had to learn to cooperate with your peers.

When I'm biking on a fairly well-used roadway, I'm busting my ass to get to where I'm going. I'm not on a leisurely ride. Don't think for a minute I'm present to piss you off, autoist. I'm not present to try to shame you in some environmental awareness way. I'm just present because (1) I'm astounded I'm strong enough to bike to where I need to go and don't want to lose that ability, (2) I'm trying to burn a few more calories I probably shouldn't have consumed and (3) I'm cheap. That's right, Gentle Reader, I'm cheap. If I can bike to the gym or to Target, my tank of gas lasts a little longer, which means I don't have to spend as much money on gas.

Skin-flintedness, Gentle Reader. It'll probably be the death of me.

Pfun With Pflugerville Pfarmers

Last Tuesday evening (yes, I know, Gentle Reader, I'm a little behind) the husband and I decided to try something new. We headed out to the weekly farmers' market in Pflugerville.

Farmers' markets are quite the event here in Austin--at least for foodies, of which Austin has quite a few. Of course, the farmers' markets to hit are downtown and in far South Austin, respectively, and at times that don't mesh well with my gym schedule. Furthermore, because of their popularity with those of the foodie class, I've long suspected the prices reflect the ready liquidity of its shoppers.

Pflugerville's an interesting little spot on the map, Gentle Reader. It's official slogan, adopted two years ago, is "Stuck between a rock and a weird place," playing off its location between Round Rock and Austin, of "Keep Austin Weird" fame. At its heart, Pflugervile is pretty much a quintessential small Texas town, with its gaggle of churches, racial divides, struggling Mom-and-Pop shops, angst over growth and noticeably large elderly population. (Sure, Austin has its gaggle of churches, very prominent racial divides and angst over growth, which is why it really is pretty much a small town suffering an identity crisis, thus its unwieldy growth, but it is a largely young city, with the older folks having fled for various reasons.)

That said, P-ville is ringed by an unsightly sprawl of suburban development. As the husband and I were driving to the market, taking the back way to avoid the interstate, we had the displeasure of driving by those massive housing developments, with block after block after block after block after block after--well, you get the point, Gentle Reader--of the exact same friggin' house. It made me wonder how many times a person walked in to what he or she thought was home only to find he or she walked in to the wrong house--and no alcohol was involved. I wouldn't be surprise if the interiors were exactly the same, as some of the houses were built by a particular company that sells the entire house, appliances, furnishes and decor included.

I Drove All the Way to Pflugerville and All I Got Was....
I'll admit that I had somewhat high hopes for fun finds (pfun pfinds?) at the P-ville market, given the list of vendors. Even if I wasn't necessarily in the market for specific farm-fresh produce, I figured at least there'd be some interesting stuff to gawk at. And if the gawk-worthy booths were lacking, then the husband and I might be somewhat amused by the Fourth of July celebrations planned for that evening. In fact, I was somewhat hesitant to go on that particular Tuesday because of those festivities. After all, P-ville is a typical small town in Texas, inevitably with a large number of patriotic, community-oriented residents.

Hah! Was I ever wrong--on both counts!

Perhaps the heat (we were in the triple digits) of the day kept people away, or perhaps the list of vendors on the market's site wasn't terribly accurate. Whatever the reason, the husband and I arrived to find maybe eight vendors total and perhaps a little over a dozen shoppers, if that. Two vendors were selling plants, one or two were sellers of meat products, three were selling produce, one was selling bakery goods and one was offering--in a wonderful way of proving the town's slogan--Nepalese fusion cuisine items.

I was thrilled to see that Kala's Kuisine had set up her tent, for it was one of two vendors I was particularly interested in patronizing. Having perused her list of products online, I was salivating at the thought of scoring a roti wrap and perhaps some chole. Not only did the husband and I each get a roti wrap (one was consumed on site, and the other we brought home), but we each got a samosa. Later, we went back to buy a jar of the mango chutney we sampled during our first visit. Very, very tasty and worth the drive.

Since the yellow horn squash and zucchini are coming into season, I was hoping to find a bounty of them available. Alas, the bounty was rather paltry, with more yellows available than zucchs. I purchased probably two or three pounds (three horns total) for $2 from one vendor, which made me quite pleased. I've since sauted two of the three horns purchased, and their flavor was a good deal better than the ones I'd acquired from HEB.

Being no fan of vegetables, the husband had his eyes trained on the bakery tent. Feeling a bit bad for dragging him out to P-ville after a tedious day at work, I let him splurge at Lil' Mama's Delicious Desserts 'n More. He got himself a rather large lemon bar and a big chocolate chocolate-chip cookie for a few bucks. I sampled both and found the cookie quite tasty, but the lemon bar was somewhat commonplace. The husband, on the other hand, thought the bar was quite a tasty treat.

Our Pflugerville Pfarmer's Market Bounty

As for the festivities, there were none to be seen. No watermelon seed spitting contests, no sack races, no egg-on-a-spoon races, no decorated bikes queuing up for a parade. Not a big loss or disappointment by any measure, at least for me. Perhaps they were canceled considering the intense heat, or perhaps they were canceled for lack of participants. Neither scenario would surprise me.

Will the husband and I return to the market? Perhaps. Maybe later in the summer, some of the vendors might return, although the veggie selection will be different for sure. Or perhaps we'll go sooner, should we get a hankering for some Napalese from a small Texas town.