Seened ja kartulid (or: Man I miss onions)

Photo by Lars Blankers on Unsplash

I was having a conversation with a friend about potatoes (which is always something worth doing – I recommend you find a friend right now and have a conversation about potatoes with them), when I mentioned a potato-based dish I used to eat all the time during my schmegan phase.¹

It was an Estonian dish called "seened ja kartulid" or "seened karulitega". This dish literally translates to "mushrooms and potatoes" or "mushrooms with potatoes", and consists of mushrooms, potatoes and onions. Many versions also add bacon (because Estonians add bacon – or "salted pork" – to everything), but you can just have it as a vegetarian dish.

Basically, you boiled a couple of potatoes until just tender (like for a potato salad) and then cut them into bite-sized slices, then you fried up some sliced onion (about half a smallish onion per serving) and as many different types of mushrooms as you could get your hands on (sliced), along with the potatoes. Rapeseed/canola oil was standard, but some nice olive oil would work if you were fancy. Fry the lot until they lose all the excess moisture and start to crisp. Then you just added some salt and cracked pepper.

No sauce or anything like that, just a good oil, good salt and good pepper (along with good mushrooms and potatoes [and onions]). It's one of those dishes where you get the best quality ingredients you can get your hands on and make some magic with only a handful of "basic" things.

I tell you, this was the simplest meal on the face of the earth, but just good wholesome comfort food. The more varieties of mushrooms you could get your hands on, the better, but even if you could only get one type of mushroom it was still Good Foods. Have a slice of good rye bread with it, and you've got yourself a decent meal.

And then, of course, I went on that dratted FODMAP diet where I wasn't supposed to eat onions, mushrooms or rye bread. That pretty well knocked this one off the roster. I've since discovered that rye bread and mushrooms are okay in small doses, but onion is actually something likely to give me grief...

Man I miss onions. They're just so tasty, and so central to all of the good dishes. 

Someone somewhere made a comment that white people start any given meal with cutting an onion, and they're right. You know, when you come from a climate where pretty much the only vegetables you can eat for most of the year are root vegetables, onions become the star of the show. I used to know I was about to make something really enjoyable when I started with cutting an onion.

For some reason, a lot of the dishes I used to make all of the time before the FODMAP thing have completely disappeared from my repertoire, even though I'd probably be able to work out a few substitutions (or just put up with a bit of discomfort). It's like something interrupted the usual transmission and now I've forgotten what I eat.

But I think I'll revisit seened ja kartulid and see whether or not I can get away with it, without too much drama. Good Foods is Good Foods, after all.

Ooh, let's do the recipe blogger thing and add a recipe to the bottom of this post, so you can skip reading the whole dang thing and get a recipe, even though the rambling story about my relationship with onions was the whole point of the post!

Seened ja Kartulid

Ingredients:

• Mushrooms - sliced. As many as you like and as many different kinds as you can find.
• Potatoes - cooked until just tender and sliced. Approximately one small-medium potato per person.
• 1 medium onion - sliced.
• Oil for pan frying (no I'm not going to give you proper amounts - just wing the darn thing).

Method:

Heat oil in a frying pan and cook the onions until soft. 

Add the mushrooms and heat through, then add the potatoes and keep stirring until the onions are translucent and the mushrooms and potatoes begin to crisp.

Serve with sea-salt and cracked pepper, with a slice of rye bread to the side.

To drink? Beer. This is a good meal to have with a good farmhouse ale.

(1) For anyone who is new here, I spent a couple of years cooking and eating vegan food - more or less for the heck of it - but wasn't actually vegan as I ate everything on offer when someone else served it to me. Hence, "schmegan".

Oh, rats!

 I've been thinking about this article from Hakai Magazine almost constantly since I listened to the audio version a few nights ago:

In Defense of the Rat

Text by J. B. MacKinnon

Illustrations by Sarah Gilman

I subscribe to both the newsletter and podcase of Hakai Magazine, and usually enjoy the stories when I can get my act together to look at them. Listening to the audio version, I didn't realise that there were pretty neat illustrations in the print version. But there are, so you should look at them even if you (like me) are a listener.

Sarah Gilman

I don't mind a rat. When I was growing up, I knew a couple of kids who had pet rats and I used to play with them when I visited, so I know they can make lovely pets. I also pet-sat someone's mice at one point, so I know rats are the superior rodents when it comes to pet rodents (they're so much cleaner and more sociable).

I also read Mrs Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, so it's hard not to have a soft spot for rats, really. Or, for that matter, a deep-seated mistrust of scientists – particularly scientists who work with rats. Or any animal.

At some point during his article, MacKinnon mentioned that vets sometimes recommend people who want a really small dog should get a rat, which is something I've come across before (because they're as playful as dogs but take up way less space and don't need walking).

He also mentioned an experiment where scientists worked out that rats enjoy playing hide-and-seek (both hiding and seeking) and will happily play games just for the fun of it, with no reward wanted other than tickling – which they respond to by squealing with laughter (the rats, not the scientists). The scientist played with the rats, had great fun, tickled them, developed a fun and playful relationship... and then killed them to examine their brains.

What the hell, scientists? What is wrong with you? Why are you soulless jerks? Why are you always soulless jerks?

Honestly, what is it about biology and biologists? You think scientists are getting into whatever field they've gone into because they love their topic and they are interested in learning more, but the truth is they're a bunch of destructive monsters who kill and dismember everything they "love". And they have no empathy for non-human life forms. And quite frankly I find them very disturbing.

As far as I'm concerned, the only good scientist is the scientist who noticed what they were doing is abhorrent and stopped doing that.

Please, just leave those rats (and rabbits, and armadillos, and every other pour tortured soul in a laboratory) alone!

Pudding Vegans and Pudding Omnivores

Photo by American Heritage Chocolate on Unsplash

One of my friends at work is a vegetarian, but I've never seen her eat a vegetable.

Well, that's not strictly true; I have seen her eat potato chips. So, to be precise, I've never seen her eat a vegetable that wasn't a deep-fried potato.

When we've been out for dinner and I ask her if she's ordering food this time, she assures me she's eaten something at home so she doesn't have to worry about ordering something suitable at the restaurant, and she occasionally makes comments at work about recipes that involve vegetables, but in all the years I've known her I've yet to see her eat something that wasn't 2 minute noodles or chips. 

And we're not talking huge serves, either. Basically, I can't figure out how she's not dead.

Now, what she eats is her business and I really shouldn't pass judgement, even if she is skinny as a rake and freezing all the time so I have severe doubts that she'll survive the winter on her current caloric intake.

But whenever I notice what she has for lunch, it puts me in mind of a phrase that has stuck with me ever since I read it in a cookbook back in my ill-fated vegan experiment: "pudding vegans."

Many years ago one of my work friends was vegan, and he usually couldn't eat anything brought to the office parties except whatever he made himself. I decided to take up vegan cooking as a hobby so I could provide at least one alternative for him at the morning teas. I ended up reading many, many vegan cookbooks, and I went through a period where pretty much all of the cooking I did was vegan.

As I mentioned in a post I wrote back in 2016, I kind of fell in love with the smart-arsery of vegan cooking. I loved experimenting to see what I could come up with that was delicious and nutritious without a single animal product. One of the things I absolutely hated, though, was the way the majority of vegan recipes were so meat-centric. But that's a digression for another post.

For a while there, I went so far down the rabbit hole that almost all of the food I made for myself was vegan - and I usually tried to buy vegan food when I was out, too. I'm pretty sure there was a time when the only non-vegan ingredient I had in my house was honey. But I still ate whatever my family was eating when I had dinner with them, so I didn't regard myself as "vegan" - just "vegan-adjacent", or "veganesque".

Then I was put on a FODMAP diet to sort out my IBS, and the whole veganesque thing went out the window because you can't be FODMAP and vegan at the same time without dying from malnutrition.

Which brings me back to "pudding vegans."

I first encountered this term in a cookbook that had been translated from German, and I think it's an Austrian thing. Basically, its about vegans who hardly eat any vegetables. The majority of their food is "plant-based", but not "plants". I think the "pudding" thing refers to the fact that most of the food they eat may as well be pudding.

It's a concept that haunted me during my veganesque phase. I made damn sure that I didn't just eat a plant-based diet, but ate actual vegetables. I wanted to make sure my meals had more nutritional value than pudding (even if I did eat my fair share of pre-packaged food from the freezer section of the supermarket).

I noticed recently that my "vegetables first!" approach to food that I had during my veganesque period had severely fallen by the wayside in my post-FODMAP meal planning. I've fallen back into my old habits of using cheese and meat as a crutch. Who needs real food when you can have grilled cheese on toast? Who needs to plan a proper meal when you can have a corned beef sandwich?

Not long ago I read a "cheat's guide to meal planning" article where the woman said she starts by asking "what's my source of protein?" and builds the rest of the meal around that. I realised I need to do that with vegetables. So now I'm trying to approach each meal by saying "what's my vegetable?" and taking that as the starting point.

It doesn't help that 80% of the time I really can't be bothered thinking about food, but at least trying to make myself think "vegetable first!", like I did back in my veganesque days, is helping me get some vegetables into my system.

Hopefully, if I keep this up, I won't be too much of a "pudding omnivore."

What would a healthy person do?

Photo by Mishaal Zahed
on Unsplash

 It's a question that has been plaguing me since I read Atomic Habits, by James Clear: "What would a healthy person do?"

The idea behind the question is that if you want to be a certain type of person, you should think about the choices that kind of person makes, and make those choices. The "healthy" person isn't making good choices because they are healthy, they are healthy because they are making good choices. Too often we put the cart before the horse and think that changing our lifestyle will make all of the little things fall into place, when really it's putting the little things into place that changes our lifestyle.

Unfortunately, it's not a question that pops into my head before I make decisions. Usually I do something entirely unhealthy, then think "what would a healthy person do?" and realise the answer is "not that."

"What would a healthy person do?"
"Be in bed by 10.00pm"
"What time is it now?
"11.30pm."

"What would a healthy person do?"
"Plan their meals to get a good balance of nutrition"
"What are you eating right now?"
"I don't know - I suppose I should eat something - Oh, look I have toast."

"What would a healthy person do?"
"Leave the office at a reasonable hour and get some exercise."
"What are you doing right now?"
"Sitting at my desk, in the dark, writing a blog post."
"Could you at least move enough to activate the lights?"
"Apparently not."

My problem is, I know what I should do, but I don't listen to me. I only have so much energy in the day and I save that for worrying about disappointing other people. I can disappoint myself - that's okay. I mean, it's not okay - I will absolutely beat myself up and call myself names about this stuff. I mean, seriously - how much better would I feel if I was well rested, ate proper food and went for a walk every day? Miles better. So much happier. But... eh. I'm only hurting myself and I don't care about me any more than I listen to me.

Having said that, maybe I should go for a walk.

When you lose your job without losing your job

 

Photo by Alek Burley on Unsplash

A couple of weeks ago I replied to someone's question on Twitter (about whether jeans are appropriate clothing for librarians) and said that I was a senior librarian and I wear jeans regularly. But then I realised shortly after I posted it that it wasn't true anymore.

I *was* a senior librarian, but now I'm not.

The library I work for restructured, and brought in a new level of management. This had the unexpected (by us, at least) flow on effect of effectively demoting all of the people who were under that new level, only without any change to their official job status.

The senior librarians of old used to be part if the leadership team, but now the leadership team includes people who aren't us. We weren't "dropped" from it, we just weren't included in it when it moved on. We used to be involved in the decision making regarding many aspects of our library services. Now we wait to be told what decisions were made. And if we try to initiate things - like we used to do all the time when we were senior librarians - we're told to cool our jets. Things are happening in discussions that we're not privy to, and we get to hear about it when everyone else does.

It's an odd adjustment to make, because we're all still employed in the same place at the same "level" (pay-wise), so technically we didn't lose our jobs during the restructure...

But we kind of did. 

It's really hit the other two "formerly senior" librarians quite hard, as they not only lost their seniority they also got shifted into a newly developed area. I think they don't quite know what to do with themselves any more. I realised the other day that they're actually grieving, like they would be if they'd lost their jobs. Because they *did* lose their jobs. But, because they still have jobs, they haven't really processed it like that.

I think I've come off more lightly than they did, but I realise that even I've been lashing out a bit. I didn't think I'd struggle to adjust, because I kind of fell into the senior role, but it has been an adjustment, and it's one we didn't really consciously engage in.

My role remained largely the same, only I'm now in a position where all of the things I used to do because I was a senior librarian are now things I'm regularly told to "not worry about". This is especially hard to swallow when I'm trying to involve other people who feel left out in decisions. I have to remember that the decisions aren't mine anymore, so I can't pull anyone else into them.

I'm a little extra powerless, and it's playing on some other feelings of powerlessness that I've been trying to sweep under the carpet.

I'm also trying really hard not to have flashbacks to that day when a stuff up I made as a linesman during a tennis match got all the other linesmen benched. I'm trying not to wonder if I managed to get all of the seniors demoted by something I did (or didn't do).

On one hand, I'm okay with it - I can say "not my circus, not my monkeys" and leave it to the person who does actually have to deal with these matters.

On the other hand, I kind of miss the monkeys.

The Queer Collective

"Where you involved with the Queer Collective?"

A colleague and I were trying to figure out where we'd met each other before. We both had a sense that this wasn't the first time we'd crossed paths, but couldn't remember meeting previously. We'd worked out that we'd both been at the same university at the same time for a couple of years, but in different years of different degrees, so we wouldn't have shared any classes. She was trying to think of some sort of extra-curricular activity we might both have attended.

"Where you involved with the Queer Collective?" she asked, and I had to keep a straight face as I said, "Um, no."

I had to keep a straight face (pardon the pun) because, at the time I didn't even know the Queer Collective existed, and if I had I would have been praying against it. Because if you don't offer support for "queerness" the people who sadly, mistakenly, think they're queer will realise how mistaken they were and see that they were straight all along. Right? That's how it works, isn't it?

I was not an ally back then.

These days I'd like to think I am one (an ally), but I struggle with that idea because I probably should think I'm queer. I'm asexual... and bisexual (which seems incompatible, but isn't - you could say I'm Ace with a Bi shading, or Bi in theory but Ace in practice), and that's two whole letters in the LGBTQIA+ thingy. 

But I've never been part of the "culture", and I've never thought of myself as queer, so even though I know on one level that I'm not straight, I don't think of myself as queer either.

Culturally speaking, I'm straight. I've come around to accepting "God's beautiful rainbow" slowly, but never from the perspective that it's about my gender expression or sexual orientation.

And yet, my gender expression isn't exactly "standard", either. I've come to realise it's more than a bit genderfluid. I'm more feminine now than I was as a child (if you know me, that probably gives you a huge idea of how "non-feminine", if not exactly "masc", I was as a child), but I'm still happy to take and use things "for men" and shun things "for women" because I honestly believe that functionality trumps social expectations of gender normativity. Growing up and well into my 30s, always felt like gender was a test that I was regularly failing; now I just don't give a rats.

And I think being Asexual, Bisexual and Genderfluid** probably does qualify me to think of myself as queer, if I want to. But it's like someone saying "this shoe will fit you", and you look at it and say "but it's not really my style".

I've always been genderfluid (without knowing there was a word for it), but it took me a while to realise that Asexuality was a) a genuine option and not some form of failure, and b) the camp I fell into. And it took me even longer than that to realise that Bisexuality was also on the cards.* It's weird, but it just never occurred to me that it was an option.† I thought you had to be, well, queer.

You know that flavour of gelato that actually isn't a flavour at all - it's basically just "cream" and then the other flavours get added to it to make it interesting? I think it's called "fior di latte", and it's not even vanilla. That's how I see myself in terms of sexuality. Maybe it's an Ace thing, but I've just never really been anything in particular, so for most of my life I just assumed that meant I was straight.

Now I know better, but I can't think of myself as a queer person or a member of the queer community because I'm not. It's like if someone said to me "oh, by the way, you're a New Zealander". I am not and have never been a member of the New Zealand community and I would feel very uncomfortable presenting myself as a Kiwi (even though I am actually eligible for a New Zealand passport). I've never identified as a Kiwi, and I don't feel like I can start doing so now. Just like I've never identified as being queer, and I don't feel like I can start doing so now.

This has been weirdly obvious to me lately, when things have popped up in my workplace that a queer person might be a stakeholder in. Whenever something even remotely LGBTQIA+ comes around, I don't say "oh, by the way, I'm Ace, Bi and Genderfluid,** so I could be your token queer person on this matter". Nope, I point to the lesbian chick like everyone else. Colleagues who are genuinely straight feel more inclined to speak up on behalf of queer matters than I do.‡

On IDAHOBIT day this year, the university opened a "rainbow room" for LGBTQIA+ people to go and feel like they're in a safe space. There was a question as to who should go and represent my workplace at the opening, and I stood there thinking "I'm in the acronym twice over, but I don't feel like I belong there". 

I don't feel apart from, threatened by or unsafe in the mainstream straight culture. I've assumed I was straight for so long, that I see myself as one of the white cis-het people, while spaces for queer people are havens for those who are oppressed by white cis-het culture.

It's not that I'm closeted, exactly, it's just that I don't feel that my voice is a queer voice, so I shouldn't have a say in matters concerning the queer community. I still wouldn't be in a Queer Collective.

I oddly feel like I shouldn't qualify as an ally because I'm not straight, but I don't qualify as queer because I don't belong to that culture.

I'm... gelato al fior di latte.

*For years I thought I wasn't interested in women - turns out I am, I just have a type, and they weren't particularly visible (to me) until more recent years

† Although it's probably not weird. I think there's a whole body of "women in midlife discovering their sexuality is fluid" - something that people who figured themselves out as teenagers probably don't get... if anyone really does figure themselves out as a teenager

‡ Actually, part of me doesn't want to be particularly known for my not-straightness in case I have to put up with the support from the allies on staff.

**Edit: I'm not Genderfluid, really, as it's not my gender that floats around (I'm a Cis woman, and haven't wanted to be anything else since I was a child, when I wanted to be a boy because they had better toys and more comfortable clothes), but rather my gender expression. I just don't have a better word for this right now.

Why you should thank the robots (and the vacuum cleaners. And the robot vacuum cleaners)

 I have a tendency to thank Chatbots for their help. I also have a tendency to thank water fountains (or coolers, if you're American) for filling my water jug and for automatic doors for opening for me. I don't do this all the time - just when I remember to.

I also tell my lawnmower it's doing a good job, and speak works of encouragement to my my vacuum cleaner when it's having trouble getting around corners (you can do it!). I currently don't have either a robot lawnmower or a robot vacuum cleaner, but I'd probably say even more encouraging things to them if I did.

Why do I do this?

Well, partly because - like all humans - I secretly believe in animism.* We can't help ourselves; there's a reason why it's the oldest "religion" in almost every society on the planet. We see a thing that's a separate and unique thing, and something deep in our hearts wants to assume it has a personality and can hear us when we talk to it.**

It's also partly because I think it fosters a better attitude in myself. It's good for my constitution.

In this day and age where everything "just happens", it's so easy to take things for granted... and it's easy to let that extend to the people who help us as well. 

If you've every been an actual human on a chat service, you'll know that there's a growing trend among the clients who use the service to be very abrupt and curt when they talk to you. It's like they're used to dealing with robots who don't require courtesy, so they're completely out of practice when faced with a human being (if they even know they're dealing with a human being).

I want to be in a position where being courteous and thanking "people" for their help is my default setting, so I "accidentally" treat robots like humans rather than "accidentally" treating humans like robots.

Plus, it's good for your general outlook on life. One of the best things you can do for your mental health is to be grateful. Even if you don't think there's an actual conscious being to be grateful to, you can still be grateful for the door opening and the water fountain filling up your bottle, and thanking the door and water fountain is a great way to do this. 

It puts you in a frame of mind where you're surrounded by things that are helping you out and making your day easier, and that's a pretty good mood lifter.

I also do this partly because I've read and watched too much science fiction, and I know that one day the robots will take over the world. When that day comes, I would like the robot lawnmower to say "oh, she was nice to us" and not try to attack me.***

*Well, actually I openly believe in animism, I just vacillate between thinking it's a totally legit belief and thinking it's made up clap-trap (like most things we "believe").

**And yet, at the same time, we want to believe it's not listening to us when we talk about it.

***Or the vacuum cleaner. Geez, how embarrassing would it be to be taken out by a vacuum cleaner during the robot uprising?

You can just be hungry

You know how you occasionally have an idea pop into your head that seems life changingly revelatory and completely dull and obvious at the same time?

Not long ago I had one of those ideas. And it was this:

"You can just be hungry."

I don't know where or how I got sucked into this idea - I suspect it's a result of living in an affluent Western society - but I somehow became convinced that if I feel hungry I should do something about it.

If it's 2.30pm and I feel like I need something salty, I must now undertake some quest to find a salty thing to eat in order to end this "eternal hunger"*.

If it's an hour after lunch and I feel like I'm craving a particular foodstuff, or half an hour before afternoon tea and I start feeling like I'm hungry now, I switch over to this idea that I need to "listen to my body" and go find something to eat now. I start getting thoroughly distracted by this sense of hunger as if I truly must do something about it as soon as humanly possible.

But... I don't.

You know, people all over the world are hungry most of the day, every day, and yet they miraculously manage to get on with whatever it is they're doing without going on a quest for salted peanuts. They eat whatever food they have at the time when they can eat it, and they live.

If they are hungry, they are just... hungry. And it's not the end of the world.

I, too, can just be hungry.

I mean, it's not like it's going to be forever.

I do live in an affluent Western society, so I know I'm not actually going to go hungry if I wait an hour to eat something I planned to eat instead of rushing to find something to eat right now that will match what I'm craving at the moment. And, should it turn out that I'm constantly craving salty things at a certain time of day, I can just take note of that and plan to eat something salty within the bounds of a reasonably balanced food allocation.

Listening to your body is a stupid thing to do. Your body wants to prepare for "winter", but we've managed to create a world where "winter" never comes - there's never a point (for people living in my society and socio-economic environment) where there will be a time of less, so I have to prepare for it by eating as much as I can during a time of plenty. But my body was designed for such seasonal periods of glut and famine.

I *do* need to listen to it telling me that I'm running short of salt and things like that, but I don't need to do anything about it this very second. For the next half hour or so I can just be hungry.

Except tea. If I need a cup of tea I should do something about that ASAP.

*In the Disney movie Frozen (known as The Snow Queen and the Eternal Winter in some overseas markets), the winter had been going on for all of 5 minutes before someone declared it to be "eternal" and declared that some drastic measure must be undertaken to stop it.

Mushrooms

Last year some time I decided that growing mushrooms sounded like a fun hobby. Some permaculture site I was looking at for some reason was advertising a "home mushroom growing course", and I thought:

"Yes! I shall learn the permaculture way to grow mushrooms. That sounds like a good use of my time."

It wasn't.

If you are thinking about growing mushrooms, and wondering if forking out $400 for a fancy permaculture course means you'll have the best grounding in mushroom growing, I have this piece of advice for you:

Don't.

Your introduction to mushroom growing should involve a pre-prepared pack and short course that, all together, costs around $100 max. 

This is because growing mushrooms is more like brewing beer than growing vegetables, and you can easily blow out any budget (monetary or time) you might think you're setting for yourself, and then discover that you actually find it all a bit too much work, really, and you don't want to do it.

I just want to say that mushrooms are surprisingly hard work.

Especially if you happen to be a "stick it in the dirt and see what happens" kind of gardener, as I am.

Even the easiest, quick-and-dirty method of growing mushrooms takes more time and attention than any of the other edible things I have growing about the place, every step is fraught with peril, I never know if I've reached a point where I've failed or if I need to hold on for another few days (or if there's something else I should be doing with the slab of fungus festering in my bathroom right now)...

And then when you actually get the mushrooms, you have to find a way to eat them relatively soon or it's all for nothing. I'm currently in a "who has time to cook? I'll just make a sandwich" phase of my existence, and in the meantime I have these huge clusters of mushrooms that may be all I have to show for all the money and effort I've poured into this misguided project.

Sure, in theory I could preserve them - but if I currently can't get my act together to make a simple pasta dish, the odds that I'll work out how to sterilize a jar and make a suitable brine are slim to none.

I should have known I wouldn't get around to eating them in good time. After all, it's not long ago that I grew a bunch of sweet potatoes the size of soccer balls* because I just couldn't be bothered harvesting them, and I figured they'd be safe enough in the ground. 

They've been in my pantry for a couple of months now. I should probably do something about them...

*Size 3 soccer balls, but soccer balls nonetheless