Acid People

Jess came along on my photo trip today. We ended up driving for six hours -- all the way to the southern part of the state and then back up, getting only slightly lost on back roads, before arriving home to eat a quick spinach and fennel salad before heading out again to pick up the Dufflebag from his dad.

My first sourdough turned out well. The taste was excellent. I forgot to slice the top of the loaf, and suspect it would have risen more if I had done so. I was going to make another batch tonight, but might have botched it. The recipe calls for mostly unbleached white flour, but I ran out, so I had to mix in about half wheat. Wheat flour is lower in gluten, making it harder to rise. The loaf yesterday rose so easily I'm going to have faith in it. I made it at ten tonight so that it will go into the oven mid-afternoon tomorrow. If it turns out well and if you train with me at the school, you may just get a loaf. I intend on giving loaves to those who have helped me out recently as a thank you, but I can only make so many at one time.

I annoyed Jess by talking so much about the sourdough. After going on about the simplicity (just yeast, water, and salt and nothing more) and the taste, the luck I felt for getting it right the first time, the honor I felt at seeing it rise and confirm to expectations, she was ready to hit me with a shoe, I gather, but showed saintlike restraint and I ended the conversation unharmed.

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While on the road today, we listened to the ipod on shuffle. We stopped for a decent lunch outside of Franklin that looked like a converted barn. I had a reuben. Not the best I'd ever had, but I was hungry. Plus, I was able to avoid ordering the french fries and went instead for the cucumber salad, and that set off a wave of healthy eating, ending with my own spinach salad when we finally got home.

I learned a lesson from the salad.

For the first time in years, I bought a dressing from the supermarket, and it nearly ruined the dish. My original intention was to save time.

Make your own dressing. Say it with me. Make your own dressing.

To take something so pure and delicious and healthy and then pour factory glop on it? Foolish, faltering humanity. And it simply didn't taste nearly as good as vinegar, lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper would have.

Jess and I were watching a tv show the other night, and the thought struck me: we're vinegar people. Acid people.

She asked me to explain myself.

Well, there are bases and acids . . . .

She got the point.

And the store bought dressing? Base. Cheese and yogurt. Not unhealthy. Just not tasty. Not light. Not possessing the wonderful, electric quality of a good dressing.

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Jess sat down to watch the Devil and Daniel Johnston again, since she was so tired she fell asleep the first time. She loved the film, but falls asleep easily.

She fell asleep again, almost at the same part.

She was able to make it through nearly all three hours of Altman's Short Cuts on Friday. Perhaps the best movie ever made that you can call "a great little film" even though it's three hours long.

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Along the ride, we stopped in Clinton to admire a pen of baby goats, and let them suck our fingers. See flickr.

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Despite the busy day, I was able to process all the pictures from the weekend, along with some strays I took for my own pleasure, and also rewrite a few paragraphs from my novel. I didn't have a lot of time, but made major revisions. Sometimes, that is enough.

For reading, I abandoned the Nooteboom -- didn't say much to me although I admire it -- and picked up True Grit, a Portis novel I avoid for obvious reasons but it's so damn good it had me wanting to call people on the telephone and read passages to them. I mean. It's really good. Really, really good.

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Writing, reading, watching good dvds. Making or in the process of making four sourdough loaves. Driving to Manchester, Portsmouth, Franklin, Bridgewater. Playing with goats. Moving furniture. Writing this entry. A full weekend. Bodes well for the week. Snow forecast tomorrow. I don't care. It'll warm up soon enough.