I've been using this recipe for five minute sourdough, using my wild-captured starter. It makes some of the BEST pizza crust I've ever tasted, brushed down with a little olive oil and baked in a 425 oven. It also makes a brilliant monkey bread - grab bits of dough and roll them around in a gallon-sized ziplock filled with cinnamon and sugar, and intersperse the bits of dough with lots of butter and - for an awesome twist - strawberry jam. (I made some strawberry jalapeno jam a while back that was AWESOME in this)
Since the starter grows each time you feed it, finding things to do with the excess (beyond gifting it to friends - our starter, named Agnes, has offspring all over the city now) becomes a fun project. One of the easiest things to do is to give it a big old feeding just before bed the night before, so you'll have two cups of sourdough starter. Then make some truly remarkable pancakes in the morning.
Saturday, October 18, 2014
Beouf Bourguignon (in a slow cooker)
It's totally not fall in Texas. I mean, technically it is, but the leaves won't really change until November or December, no matter how many pumpkin spiced lattes we pour at the bases of the neighborhood trees. My children's halloween costumes are selected to make sure they don't roast in their costumes. When I was a child growing up in Michigan, we made plans for wearing snowsuits under our costumes.
This is a recipe about faking it till you're making it.
There is no fast way to make beef bourguignon and still get the complexity of flavor that makes it such an amazing bowl of slop. This requires a layering of flavors - like layering for the cold, or laying bricks, or building a house. This is weekend food, something that you take a bit to prepare alongside your bread for the week, that you make while kids lay around in pajamas until noon, playing video games and eating dry cereal out of plastic cups. That said, there are steps in Madame Childs' recipe that can be combined to make a really amazing version that doesn't quite take as much prep time. Once you get good at it, you can pull off your prep in 30-40 minutes.
Gather your bits:
6-7 slices of bacon, cut into bite sized pieces.
3 lbs stew beef, chopped into bite sized pieces.
2-3 cups red wine (boxed wine makes this easy, and lets you feel less sad about all the wine you'll be eating instead of drinking. Pinot Noirs are recommended here, but I used the Black Box Cabernet to excellent effect)
1 cup flour
4-5 large carrots
1 sweet onion
3 garlic cloves
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon dried thyme (or four sprigs fresh)
1 bunch fresh parsley, chopped
2 cups fresh mushrooms, washed and sliced
1 package egg noodles, or crusty awesome bread (or both!)
As far as equipment goes, you'll want the following:
A cast iron or stainless steel frying pan. Save the non-stick for your eggs - it has no place in this dish. Your sear will be sad, and you won't be able to deglaze as well - two things that are crucial for this.
A slow cooker. (woo!)
Also, before you get started, go ahead and turn the fan on in the kitchen, or your smoke detector will be singing the song of your people, if you know what I'm saying.
Like many delicious things, this recipe begins with bacon.
Fry those babies up, reserving all of the bacon grease. Set the bacon aside and hide it from your family, or their grubby hands will nip in and swipe bites while you're cooking. Leave just enough bacon grease to cover the bottom of the pan, and return to a medium heat, just until the grease gets smoking.
Meanwhile, toss all your beef into a gallon sized plastic bag filled with the flour and some salt and pepper. Seal and shake, making sure all your tasty beef nuggets are well coated and there are no damp spots.
Add the beef to the smoking hot bacon grease, being sure not to crowd the pan and treating each peice like the special little snowflake that it is. Let them be for a bit to get a good sear. Here's a tip: if the beef is still sticking to the pan, let it stick. It's done searing when it releases from the pan.
When they're done, move them straight to the crock pot. It will take a few batches to get through all of the beef, and that's okay, because in between each batch, your pan will look like this:
This is the stuff flavored dreams are made of. Hit that pan with some of the wine - enough to coat the bottom and slosh around, and scrape up all that goo with your spatula. You don't have to be meticulous about it, but make an effort to get it all up off the bottom.
Pour off the wine straight into your crock pot, and add another bit of bacon grease to the bottom of the pan - just enough to coat the bottom. Let it sit until it smokes again (your pan should be pretty hot, so this shouldn't take long), and add another batch of beef.
Repeat until all the beef is seared, deglazing the pan each time with wine and dumping it all into the crock pot as you go. After all the beef is seared, go ahead and really deglaze that baby - put about a cup or so of wine into the pan and get the sides, bottom, etc. of the pan, then pour all of that into the crock pot.
Put one last round of bacon grease into the pan (if you're out of grease, like I was, just use some olive oil), and add the carrots and onion, roughly chopped, and season with salt and pepper. Stir occasionally until the onions are translucent, about five minutes. Dump all of that into the crock pot.
Add the bay leaf and thyme. Go ahead and try one of the pieces of beef, because they're amazing - crispy coated and smokey. The wine should cover about 3/4 of your meat and carrots. If not, add a little more wine (or beef stock, if you're starting to feel a little stingy with your wine. Don't use stock from a can, because that stuff is terrible, and as it reduces it will produce a metallic taste that will put a real damper on the whole meal).
Set to high, and let simmer for about five hours, stirring occasionally.
About an hour before you plan to eat, add that bacon, half the parsley and the mushrooms into the crock pot, stirring.
Serve over egg noodles tossed with two tablespoons of butter or with some crusty bread. Top with the rest of the parsley.
This is a recipe about faking it till you're making it.
 |
| Sweet baby Jesus. This is good stuff. |
There is no fast way to make beef bourguignon and still get the complexity of flavor that makes it such an amazing bowl of slop. This requires a layering of flavors - like layering for the cold, or laying bricks, or building a house. This is weekend food, something that you take a bit to prepare alongside your bread for the week, that you make while kids lay around in pajamas until noon, playing video games and eating dry cereal out of plastic cups. That said, there are steps in Madame Childs' recipe that can be combined to make a really amazing version that doesn't quite take as much prep time. Once you get good at it, you can pull off your prep in 30-40 minutes.
Gather your bits:
6-7 slices of bacon, cut into bite sized pieces.
3 lbs stew beef, chopped into bite sized pieces.
2-3 cups red wine (boxed wine makes this easy, and lets you feel less sad about all the wine you'll be eating instead of drinking. Pinot Noirs are recommended here, but I used the Black Box Cabernet to excellent effect)
1 cup flour
4-5 large carrots
1 sweet onion
3 garlic cloves
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon dried thyme (or four sprigs fresh)
1 bunch fresh parsley, chopped
2 cups fresh mushrooms, washed and sliced
1 package egg noodles, or crusty awesome bread (or both!)
As far as equipment goes, you'll want the following:
A cast iron or stainless steel frying pan. Save the non-stick for your eggs - it has no place in this dish. Your sear will be sad, and you won't be able to deglaze as well - two things that are crucial for this.
A slow cooker. (woo!)
Also, before you get started, go ahead and turn the fan on in the kitchen, or your smoke detector will be singing the song of your people, if you know what I'm saying.
Like many delicious things, this recipe begins with bacon.
Fry those babies up, reserving all of the bacon grease. Set the bacon aside and hide it from your family, or their grubby hands will nip in and swipe bites while you're cooking. Leave just enough bacon grease to cover the bottom of the pan, and return to a medium heat, just until the grease gets smoking.
Meanwhile, toss all your beef into a gallon sized plastic bag filled with the flour and some salt and pepper. Seal and shake, making sure all your tasty beef nuggets are well coated and there are no damp spots.
Add the beef to the smoking hot bacon grease, being sure not to crowd the pan and treating each peice like the special little snowflake that it is. Let them be for a bit to get a good sear. Here's a tip: if the beef is still sticking to the pan, let it stick. It's done searing when it releases from the pan.
 |
| Beef nuggets, looking FINE. |
When they're done, move them straight to the crock pot. It will take a few batches to get through all of the beef, and that's okay, because in between each batch, your pan will look like this:
 |
| A crusty pan never looked so yummy. |
This is the stuff flavored dreams are made of. Hit that pan with some of the wine - enough to coat the bottom and slosh around, and scrape up all that goo with your spatula. You don't have to be meticulous about it, but make an effort to get it all up off the bottom.
Pour off the wine straight into your crock pot, and add another bit of bacon grease to the bottom of the pan - just enough to coat the bottom. Let it sit until it smokes again (your pan should be pretty hot, so this shouldn't take long), and add another batch of beef.
Repeat until all the beef is seared, deglazing the pan each time with wine and dumping it all into the crock pot as you go. After all the beef is seared, go ahead and really deglaze that baby - put about a cup or so of wine into the pan and get the sides, bottom, etc. of the pan, then pour all of that into the crock pot.
Put one last round of bacon grease into the pan (if you're out of grease, like I was, just use some olive oil), and add the carrots and onion, roughly chopped, and season with salt and pepper. Stir occasionally until the onions are translucent, about five minutes. Dump all of that into the crock pot.
Add the bay leaf and thyme. Go ahead and try one of the pieces of beef, because they're amazing - crispy coated and smokey. The wine should cover about 3/4 of your meat and carrots. If not, add a little more wine (or beef stock, if you're starting to feel a little stingy with your wine. Don't use stock from a can, because that stuff is terrible, and as it reduces it will produce a metallic taste that will put a real damper on the whole meal).
Set to high, and let simmer for about five hours, stirring occasionally.
About an hour before you plan to eat, add that bacon, half the parsley and the mushrooms into the crock pot, stirring.
Serve over egg noodles tossed with two tablespoons of butter or with some crusty bread. Top with the rest of the parsley.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Capturing Free Range Wild Texas Yeast
Free-floating out there, like micro-cowboys, are strands of yeast. It's on your skin. It's in the air you snuffle. All of this is profoundly facinating to me.
For the last six or so months, I've had a bin in my fridge filled with 5 minute dough. I've made french bread for banh mi, pizza crusts, and all manner of quick-fix type breads. They're fast and easy, but they're not really special. And I go through a LOT of quick-rise yeast.
So when I started looking into bread "starters" (also called sourdough or levain) and discovered you can harvest your own wild yeast, it seemed like a totally awesome experiement. I'd be lying if I said it was, in any part, an attempt to provide some sort of teaching opportunity for the kids. The desire was totally born of wanting to have a jar of microorganisms flourishing on my counter, and have that NOT be gross.
I read the entire internet in search of tips and tricks for starting wild yeast colonies. There is a lot of information out there, and much of it is conflicting. Whatever. I picked something that looked the easiest and set out for an experiment.
Here's what you need, if you'll want to follow along at home:
1) Water (say 1/2 a cup)
This should be bottled water if you live in the city. Chlorine, which lives in most city tap water, is really good at killing off microorganisms like yeast. There are TONS of websites about getting chlorine out of tap water (apparently leaving it out overnight will do the trick), but getting distilled or spring water at the store is hella cheap, and it's not like you use a lot of it in this process.
2) Flour (the same amount as you have water)
I read a LOT of conflicting information about what sort of flour to use. A LOT. I used store-brand, all-purpose flour for this experiement and it totally worked. Some websites required incredibly precise ratios of specialty flours, usually from companies who make specialty flours.
3) a Vessel
I used a wide-mouth mason jar. Stick with glass or ceramic if you can. Apparently some metal and plastic containers can something something something? Eh, an old mug or olive jar will do just fine, and will prevent whatever dastardly thing metal or plastic leeching will do to your yeast.
4) A loose covering
I used a clean men's handkerchief. A dishtowel or other similar cotton bit of fabric would also do.
Mix the flour and water and set it out overnight somewhere warmish (between 72 and 80, therebouts). We live in Texas, so finding warm spots isn't a problem for us, but the hubby cranks up the air conditioning overnight, turning our kitchen into an arctic tundra. I stuck our jar outside to trap yeast (I figured there'd be more outside? Maybe?), as the low was 72*.
I scampered downstairs the next morning like it was Christmas, an discovered this:
Real, live, burping and farting Texas yeast, captured in my mason jar.
It really is as simple as that, though I've read about people having a harder time. Sometimes it's taken people a few days to catch it.
So why bother? Well, for starters, making something entirely by hand is profoundly satisfying, and bread is among the most satisfying - something fundamental to share with family and friends. From an early age, I'd make Irish soda bread with my mother, and it seemed to be a strange thing to substitute a chemical to make bread rise, and I can always taste the chemical flavor of baking soda any time I cook with it. The recipe I use for soda bread is over 150 years old, and it's always struck me as a curiosity that chemical leavening was a regular option in rural Ireland.
Then I started baking breads regularly, and it seemed even more strange. Ancient Egyptians didn't buy commercial yeast at the store for their bread and beer. If you're going to go through the trouble to make things by hand, why not really make it by hand? In an era where everyone lives on the back of a rocket ship, why not find the slow rituals that make things special?
So I started looking into commercial yeast, and was fairly bummed about what I found. Yes, it's uniform, trustworthy, and requires no maintenance. But that's what makes it so weird. The slow-rising process of natural yeast, combined with the symbiotic relationship between the yeast and the lacto-bacteria that accompany it, breaks down parts of the wheat husk that are indigestible. There's a really lovely article that discusses a number of health benefits of bread made with wild yeast, from reducing the body's glycemic index to reducing the number of colds and flus contracted.
So, once captured, what do you do with it?
For the last six or so months, I've had a bin in my fridge filled with 5 minute dough. I've made french bread for banh mi, pizza crusts, and all manner of quick-fix type breads. They're fast and easy, but they're not really special. And I go through a LOT of quick-rise yeast.
So when I started looking into bread "starters" (also called sourdough or levain) and discovered you can harvest your own wild yeast, it seemed like a totally awesome experiement. I'd be lying if I said it was, in any part, an attempt to provide some sort of teaching opportunity for the kids. The desire was totally born of wanting to have a jar of microorganisms flourishing on my counter, and have that NOT be gross.
I read the entire internet in search of tips and tricks for starting wild yeast colonies. There is a lot of information out there, and much of it is conflicting. Whatever. I picked something that looked the easiest and set out for an experiment.
Here's what you need, if you'll want to follow along at home:
1) Water (say 1/2 a cup)
This should be bottled water if you live in the city. Chlorine, which lives in most city tap water, is really good at killing off microorganisms like yeast. There are TONS of websites about getting chlorine out of tap water (apparently leaving it out overnight will do the trick), but getting distilled or spring water at the store is hella cheap, and it's not like you use a lot of it in this process.
2) Flour (the same amount as you have water)
I read a LOT of conflicting information about what sort of flour to use. A LOT. I used store-brand, all-purpose flour for this experiement and it totally worked. Some websites required incredibly precise ratios of specialty flours, usually from companies who make specialty flours.
3) a Vessel
I used a wide-mouth mason jar. Stick with glass or ceramic if you can. Apparently some metal and plastic containers can something something something? Eh, an old mug or olive jar will do just fine, and will prevent whatever dastardly thing metal or plastic leeching will do to your yeast.
4) A loose covering
I used a clean men's handkerchief. A dishtowel or other similar cotton bit of fabric would also do.
Mix the flour and water and set it out overnight somewhere warmish (between 72 and 80, therebouts). We live in Texas, so finding warm spots isn't a problem for us, but the hubby cranks up the air conditioning overnight, turning our kitchen into an arctic tundra. I stuck our jar outside to trap yeast (I figured there'd be more outside? Maybe?), as the low was 72*.I scampered downstairs the next morning like it was Christmas, an discovered this:
Real, live, burping and farting Texas yeast, captured in my mason jar.
It really is as simple as that, though I've read about people having a harder time. Sometimes it's taken people a few days to catch it.
So why bother? Well, for starters, making something entirely by hand is profoundly satisfying, and bread is among the most satisfying - something fundamental to share with family and friends. From an early age, I'd make Irish soda bread with my mother, and it seemed to be a strange thing to substitute a chemical to make bread rise, and I can always taste the chemical flavor of baking soda any time I cook with it. The recipe I use for soda bread is over 150 years old, and it's always struck me as a curiosity that chemical leavening was a regular option in rural Ireland.
Then I started baking breads regularly, and it seemed even more strange. Ancient Egyptians didn't buy commercial yeast at the store for their bread and beer. If you're going to go through the trouble to make things by hand, why not really make it by hand? In an era where everyone lives on the back of a rocket ship, why not find the slow rituals that make things special?
So I started looking into commercial yeast, and was fairly bummed about what I found. Yes, it's uniform, trustworthy, and requires no maintenance. But that's what makes it so weird. The slow-rising process of natural yeast, combined with the symbiotic relationship between the yeast and the lacto-bacteria that accompany it, breaks down parts of the wheat husk that are indigestible. There's a really lovely article that discusses a number of health benefits of bread made with wild yeast, from reducing the body's glycemic index to reducing the number of colds and flus contracted.
So, once captured, what do you do with it?
Monday, July 11, 2011
A-Changin'
This has been a scary week. Let me tell you why.
It began on Friday afternoon, while my hubby was out with his boyfriend on man-date. I was home with the kids. We live at the bottom of a very steep hill that has a surprising amount of traffic considering we live on the rural end of the suburbs. However, our yard is gated, and our yard is big and full of enough exciting things to keep the kids occupied. Kids need the out of doors, right?
Both the monkeys paraded out the front door. I checked on them just after that to find them playing in the sand box, taking turns dumping sand into a bucket. Exciting! I headed back inside to answer a phone call.
Moments later, thankfully, the hubby came home. The kids had figured out our increasingly complicated gate latch and were playing in the road. Freakouts ensued - we had a frank talk with our four year old (the likely Einstein that figured out how to get the rubics cube of a gate latch open) about what happens when little boys play in a busy road. ("Oh no!!! Cars will CRASH me? I could DIE?!?!") Needless to say, the whole family was pretty upset about it for the rest of the weekend. The latch on the gate got even more complicated.
Then my husband found a coral snake in the yard. As in cousin of the black mamba and cobra, one of the most poisonous snakes in the US coral snake. He dispatched it quickly, and I did some quick research on it. First, if one of these little bastards bites an adult, they need medical treatment within two hours. Second, if it bites a toddler, all bets are off. Third, bites are so rare that antivenom is almost impossible to find (it was discontinued three years ago).
So the urge to move is greater than ever. We live on a street that has claimed the lives of two of our cats, and nearly took out our children. We're finding poisonous snakes slithering about. Exit stage left.
We've been poking at houses in the neighborhood for the last month. I don't think we're asking for much, but apparently we have to choose between a nice house with a yard the size of a walk-in closet or a great yard attached to house that is dingy and smells suspiciously like prunes and cat pee. Today's find was an exception. It's not in our immediate neighborhood, but it's actually on the other side of the giant traffic-causing disaster, walking distance from a new Whole Foods AND a Torchy's AND a P. Terry's AND Max's school, and has highly rated schools all the way up. And it's cheap. Surprisingly cheap. Score. A disastrous economy has its perks. Our earnest little realtor that we've somehow inherited is eagerly drafting paperwork.
It began on Friday afternoon, while my hubby was out with his boyfriend on man-date. I was home with the kids. We live at the bottom of a very steep hill that has a surprising amount of traffic considering we live on the rural end of the suburbs. However, our yard is gated, and our yard is big and full of enough exciting things to keep the kids occupied. Kids need the out of doors, right?
Both the monkeys paraded out the front door. I checked on them just after that to find them playing in the sand box, taking turns dumping sand into a bucket. Exciting! I headed back inside to answer a phone call.
Moments later, thankfully, the hubby came home. The kids had figured out our increasingly complicated gate latch and were playing in the road. Freakouts ensued - we had a frank talk with our four year old (the likely Einstein that figured out how to get the rubics cube of a gate latch open) about what happens when little boys play in a busy road. ("Oh no!!! Cars will CRASH me? I could DIE?!?!") Needless to say, the whole family was pretty upset about it for the rest of the weekend. The latch on the gate got even more complicated.
 |
| Decapitated Coral Snake. |
Then my husband found a coral snake in the yard. As in cousin of the black mamba and cobra, one of the most poisonous snakes in the US coral snake. He dispatched it quickly, and I did some quick research on it. First, if one of these little bastards bites an adult, they need medical treatment within two hours. Second, if it bites a toddler, all bets are off. Third, bites are so rare that antivenom is almost impossible to find (it was discontinued three years ago).
So the urge to move is greater than ever. We live on a street that has claimed the lives of two of our cats, and nearly took out our children. We're finding poisonous snakes slithering about. Exit stage left.
We've been poking at houses in the neighborhood for the last month. I don't think we're asking for much, but apparently we have to choose between a nice house with a yard the size of a walk-in closet or a great yard attached to house that is dingy and smells suspiciously like prunes and cat pee. Today's find was an exception. It's not in our immediate neighborhood, but it's actually on the other side of the giant traffic-causing disaster, walking distance from a new Whole Foods AND a Torchy's AND a P. Terry's AND Max's school, and has highly rated schools all the way up. And it's cheap. Surprisingly cheap. Score. A disastrous economy has its perks. Our earnest little realtor that we've somehow inherited is eagerly drafting paperwork.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Crafty-like
Why am I telling you all this? Because it's now Monkey's favorite app, too. A couple of nights ago, six planets had clustered together in the night sky. I'm not entirely sure where the little fella got so much information on planets (it hasn't been a unit in school, and the lengthy discussion about chemistry and the solar system hadn't happened yet), but he knew the names of most of the planets, and was pretty thrilled about them. We decided that this week, now that I've got a stretch of free time, we'd build a mobile of the solar system for his room.
So here's the thing. There are all kinds of ways to slap a solar system mobile together. I've seen everything from a giant yellow ball crammed with skewers attached to other balls, innovative little ways to make an overhead light the sun with planets coming off of it with heavy gauge wire, and some that attempt to allow for orbital movement.
We're going to Michael's today. We'll be hand painting planets this afternoon, and over the next week we'll be checking out the orbital paths of each of them. Then we'll work with Daddy to figure out how to engineer a solar system that works properly and hang it in the Monkey's room.
It'll be a long week, but we have to work quickly. Next week he'll be excited about botany, and that's a whole new project to get up to our necks in.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Chemistry and Astrophysics, for 4 Year Olds
At the intersection of children's interests and parental passions, a special thing happens. Like all beings from the dawn of time, Monster has begun to look to the heavens and get curious. As a long-time fan of the science and math of the celestial, I am thrilled.
The question, then, becomes how to explain the complexities of chemistry and physics without the assumption that we need to dumb it down. First, I wished for my old professor, Pan Papacosta, who managed to describe the inner workings of a nuclear reactor in such a way that every last one of us walked away from his lecture feeling confident we could build one in the event of a zombie apocalypse (in retrospect, a little alarming, but no mean feat at an arts school.) This is where mommies like me rely heavily on the mixing of metaphor to explain. Here was my lesson:
The world is made of specks so tiny we can't see them. These specks, like people, are all a little different. Just like Monster likes to be naked, wear clothes, and wear coats at different temperatures, all specks are a gas (like clouds), a liquid (like juice), or a solid (like rocks) at different temperatures. In the whole wide world, which we call the universe, most of the specks travel alone or with one or two friends. These specks are called hydrogen, helium (two friends), or the friendly speck, oxygen. Oxygen is a nice speck, and he'll be friends with anyone, no matter how tired or sad, which comes in handy when you're breathing in and out.
It takes a very special situation to make big speck, like a big party. We're Irish, so the biggest parties are always funerals. We see very big specks get born when big, old stars die. After the funeral, these big specks go out into the universe, looking for something to do.
A place where all kinds of specks go to look for something to do is called a nebula. When you don't know what to do, and are bored, the best thing to do is start dancing. It helps make new friends, is really good exercise, and makes everyone happy. The easiest way to dance with a big group of people is in a circle, but no matter how you dance, you'll always wind up really sweaty and hot. The middle of the circle is always the hottest, because that's where everyone is the most excited and moving the fastest.
Remember how different specks want to put on different clothes at different temperatures? Well, the specks that are hottest in the middle just want to get naked and keep dancing. Most of what's in the middle is hydrogen - little ones - and they'll dance like crazy for as long as they can, because they don't have anyone with them to get tired and want to go home. Soon, these crazy dancing hydrogens get really really hot and turn into something really really special - a star.
Big specks get tired faster, because it's harder to move a fat group than one person. Because they don't move as fast, they'll get colder faster, and put their coats on, or turn into rocks, closer to the middle than anyone else. The further away from the middle of the circle you get, the more specks start putting on coats and turning into rocks.
Every baby world was born because of specks putting on coats. If you're going to be sitting around in coats, you might as well do it with friends. As bigger groups of friends in coats get together, they start to be called planetesimals. This just means a bunch of rocks that got tired at the party, but don't want to leave. They'll go around in circles at the party, bumping into other planetesimals at the party but not really wanting to leave. Sometimes they'll make friends with other planetesimals and will get bigger and bigger. Other times they'll just smash into each other, and the big group will break back up into smaller groups.
We've talked about planets in the solar system. The first one, Mercury, is made of the biggest, fattest specks that got tired closest to the party. Just like daddy's little medicine ball is heavier than a beach ball, Mercury is way heavier than almost any other planet in the solar system because it's crammed full of fat guys.
Venus is pretty heavy too, but it's also super hot because it's covered in fart blankets.
Earth, which is our world, is heavy, but not as heavy as Mercury. It's covered in blankets too, but not fart blankets. It's these blankets that keep us warm in the night time when the sun isn't able to touch us and heat us up.
Mars is less heavy than Earth, but has almost no blanket, so it can get very cold.
Jupiter is a funny planet. First, it's like the daddy of all the planets. If it got really hungry, it could eat Earth like a Cheerio. But Jupiter is almost all made of tiny specks that started their own separate party. You can't stand on Jupiter.
Saturn is a lot like Jupiter, but it's a bit smaller. It could still eat Earth, but it be more of a complete breakfast. Saturn wears a hula hoop made of dust, ice cubes and planetesimals that decided to break into smaller bits.
Uranus lies on its side, and is very very cold. It is made of ice, the stinky part of cat pee and farts, and has a tiny little ring around it. It's a lot bigger than Earth, but if it decided to eat Earth, it would be more like a light lunch.
Neptune is also made of ice, the stinky part of cat pee, and farts, but is a little smaller. Four earths could fit inside Neptune. The amount of farts covering Neptune is why Neptune is blue. It also has lots of storms.
The question, then, becomes how to explain the complexities of chemistry and physics without the assumption that we need to dumb it down. First, I wished for my old professor, Pan Papacosta, who managed to describe the inner workings of a nuclear reactor in such a way that every last one of us walked away from his lecture feeling confident we could build one in the event of a zombie apocalypse (in retrospect, a little alarming, but no mean feat at an arts school.) This is where mommies like me rely heavily on the mixing of metaphor to explain. Here was my lesson:
The world is made of specks so tiny we can't see them. These specks, like people, are all a little different. Just like Monster likes to be naked, wear clothes, and wear coats at different temperatures, all specks are a gas (like clouds), a liquid (like juice), or a solid (like rocks) at different temperatures. In the whole wide world, which we call the universe, most of the specks travel alone or with one or two friends. These specks are called hydrogen, helium (two friends), or the friendly speck, oxygen. Oxygen is a nice speck, and he'll be friends with anyone, no matter how tired or sad, which comes in handy when you're breathing in and out.
It takes a very special situation to make big speck, like a big party. We're Irish, so the biggest parties are always funerals. We see very big specks get born when big, old stars die. After the funeral, these big specks go out into the universe, looking for something to do.
Remember how different specks want to put on different clothes at different temperatures? Well, the specks that are hottest in the middle just want to get naked and keep dancing. Most of what's in the middle is hydrogen - little ones - and they'll dance like crazy for as long as they can, because they don't have anyone with them to get tired and want to go home. Soon, these crazy dancing hydrogens get really really hot and turn into something really really special - a star.
Big specks get tired faster, because it's harder to move a fat group than one person. Because they don't move as fast, they'll get colder faster, and put their coats on, or turn into rocks, closer to the middle than anyone else. The further away from the middle of the circle you get, the more specks start putting on coats and turning into rocks.
Venus is pretty heavy too, but it's also super hot because it's covered in fart blankets.
Earth, which is our world, is heavy, but not as heavy as Mercury. It's covered in blankets too, but not fart blankets. It's these blankets that keep us warm in the night time when the sun isn't able to touch us and heat us up.
Mars is less heavy than Earth, but has almost no blanket, so it can get very cold.
Jupiter is a funny planet. First, it's like the daddy of all the planets. If it got really hungry, it could eat Earth like a Cheerio. But Jupiter is almost all made of tiny specks that started their own separate party. You can't stand on Jupiter.
Saturn is a lot like Jupiter, but it's a bit smaller. It could still eat Earth, but it be more of a complete breakfast. Saturn wears a hula hoop made of dust, ice cubes and planetesimals that decided to break into smaller bits.
Uranus lies on its side, and is very very cold. It is made of ice, the stinky part of cat pee and farts, and has a tiny little ring around it. It's a lot bigger than Earth, but if it decided to eat Earth, it would be more like a light lunch.
Neptune is also made of ice, the stinky part of cat pee, and farts, but is a little smaller. Four earths could fit inside Neptune. The amount of farts covering Neptune is why Neptune is blue. It also has lots of storms.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Things My Two Year Old Taught Me
She is growing into her person-dom, and has revealed unto me the following rules:
1. Always dress precisely the way you feel, regardless of the occasion. If this means heading to the pool in a floor-length tu-tu, wearing a viking helmet, a t-shirt with robots fighting great apes, and wielding a short sword, so be it.
2. Reportedly, all food tastes like chicken. Save time by calling all food chicken.
3. If your parents don't give you the precise kind of chicken you wanted when you simply requested chicken, it is perfectly acceptable to freak the hell out. It's not mind reading, it's intuiting a complicated memo composed of physical clues.
4. Exercise your right to protest. If you discover that your protest is unobserved (via cautious peeks under your armpits after you've thrown yourself dramatically to the floor and soaked it with your giant tears), relocate yourself to a more visable place, like directly behind your mother as she carries a pot of boiling water to the sink.
5. If you have no idea what someone is talking about, replying "sure!" in your most chipper voice will delay the need for action. When it's become obvious that you've just agreed to something terrible, like getting knots brushed out of your hair, you can always remember something VERY EXCITING happening in another location, like the closet.
6. Pooping is best done in quiet, solitary places. Like under the dining room table, in the laundry hamper, or in the bathtub. Bonus points if you're wearing underpants instead of diapers.
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