Gold- and crimson-cheeked
From the sexy-soft whispered
Flirtations of death
Gold- and crimson-cheeked
From the sexy-soft whispered
Flirtations of death
This ain’t 1830, bro. But it seems nature is all I want to write poems (or rather, sloppy quasi-poems) about, so here I go.
Castles of desire,
Rocking tides of sweetness,
Birds that know you when they see you,
Skies your soul can touch when it hears the sound and unfurls,
The urbane fragrance of autumn and the intimate fragrance of damp earth,
Dark leaves painting the foreground of the sunset with their fine dewy motile brush,
All rushes in in the agony, the awful crack of dislocation from the static cohesion of SELF, things going through me and filling me because I’m not even here to impede them.
No one sense organ is where I am, correct? Maybe I am everywhere, or a semipermeable membrane, or a filter that is often clogged.
Well, dear and patient reader, now I can’t think of anything else. So consider this tale accomplished, until further notice.
Still, TROPH’s miracles hadn’t yet penetrated to all parts of the world. Traditionalism held on in more backward cultures, and it was now as much of a shock to visit one of those dark, sensual places as it had been in the era of European exploration. Younger visitors—who took their standard pills with them and temporarily discarded their biofeedback devices—were amazed at the human chaos in these locales. There was so much variation in body size, and there were so many more problems with health and sanitation. Why would anyone choose to live this way? People either here or abroad who voluntarily kept their natural gustatory activities and organs intact (Americans and Brits often electing for a cosmetic anal reduction surgery, since the amount of waste expelled tended to be drastically reduced) were seen by the still-puritanical American populace as embracing an almost sexual perversion of gourmandism. The US government had partnered with TROPH a couple of years ago to bring the system in as a form of aid to Bangladesh, which was suffering from simultaneous famine and mismanagement, but the Bangladeshis had, as a proud and unified people, rejected TROPH’s incredibly kind offer. This was a shock to the government and the company, and had made relations in the region even more convoluted.
Josep was jerked back into his train of thought, and obediently sat up straight in his chair. He had a habit of slumping forward when lost in thought, and his devices, concerned he might suffer from back pain after years of consistent poor posture, had given him a mild corrective jolt of heat. This sort of treatment, the direct punishment and reward doled out by your very living quarters, was a little too much for most people. But he figured it took the guesswork out of things like that, and hey, it wasn’t 2030 anymore, right?
Edit: pictures now present, long-winded narrative remains.
Fall approaches, and the warm and cozy caramel flavors of fall food are already starting to tempt our taste buds. Well, I like them all year ’round, but I also sing Christmas songs all year round, so I’m always in a state of seasonal dysfunction.
In any case, I’ve had people ask about my method of dealing with butternut-squash soup. It’s such an enjoyable soup, but it’s also a lot of work. I decided after I acquired a butternut squash last winter that I had no interest in peeling the large, hard fruit, then cutting it up and boiling it, all the while fussing with onions, garlic, spices, and the whole motley crew of necessary flavor supports. I then realized that roasting would enhance the delicious flavor of the squash far more than boiling would, and would be much easier and more hands-off than cutting the whole thing up. So I started looking for recipes, and liked what I saw. I went off to work thinking happily about the soup I would make.
But before I arrived home I realized something even more wonderful: why did only the squash have to be roasted? Why couldn’t I throw the onion and garlic in there as well? This would reduce the labor significantly, and again, because roasting would bring out a dark, earthy, caramelized flavor in the other vegetables as well, it would be especially wonderful.
Reader, it was true. Sometimes easier is better. It is so with Easy Mac and it is so with this. The same warning goes with this as goes with most of my recipes: I cook iteratively and intuitively, so the spice and liquid amounts are mere estimates. Be conservative with each at first, and add more if you need to.
ALL ROASTED EVERYTHING BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP (can be made vegan!)
(Makes four-ish good-sized servings? Maybe more? I don’t know, I eat a lot)
Section 1, the ingredients that get roasted
Section 2, the other stuff
Turn your oven to 400 degrees F. While it heats, rinse off your squash, cut off its stem, and slice it lengthwise. Scoop out the seeds and fibers (though you don’t have to be obsessive about the fibers, since it’s going to be blended anyway). If you want, reserve the seeds and toast them, using them as a garnish. Rub the tops with oil and sprinkle reasonably generously with salt and pepper. My squash this last time was a little underripe, leading to a sort of starchy, fibrous soup. Be sure to get a ripe squash, don’t do as I did.
Put on a cookie sheet, jelly roll pan, or other such large, flat pan, and pop it into the oven.
20 minutes after the squash starts cooking, peel and cut your onion. If it’s small, cut it into fourths; if large, into eighths; if somewhere in between, use your mathematical judgment. It’s not really that big of a deal. Toss the onion and garlic with some more oil (enough to coat them lightly) and sprinkle some salt and pepper on them too. Open your oven door and just put them in the same pan as the squash. Give them a stir in about 20 minutes.
At any point in the next 40 minutes after you’ve put the onions and garlic in (so you can see, the total cooking time for the squash is one hour, or until fork tender; the onions and garlic should, by this time, be soft everywhere and dark brown in spots but not, you know, burned), get a deep pot and put it on the stove. Turn the heat to medium. Put the butter in, and when it’s melted and starting to foam, put in your spice mélange.
This is called “blooming” the spices and it’s very common in Indian cooking. The spices will have a far more delightful and intense flavor than if you just threw them into wet soup. You can definitely add more to the completed soup to correct the spice level, but starting with at least a perceptible base will really help. Anyway, bloom them for about a minute, then pour in your broth. Give it a stir and turn the heat down to medium low if the vegetables are ready, or very low (plus cover your pot) if you still have to wait awhile.
Now get your roasted vegetables out. Scoop the squash out of its skin and dump it into the pot, along with the delicious roasted onions and garlic. Be sure to have turned the heat back up to medium low if you had it on low. Stir all this and let it incorporate for a minute, give it a taste, and adjust as needed. Now (carefully!) transfer to a blender and blend on a low setting (too high and it will get thin and watery) until it’s homogeneous, removing the pot from the burner but keeping the heat on. Transfer back to the pot and put it back on the burner, taste and adjust seasoning again, and add water if it’s too thick for your liking. Finally, stir in your cream and serve! You will love it, I assure you. Please remember to turn the burner and oven off once you’re finished, though. Only you can prevent house fires.
While you’re at it, why not serve with some home-made whole grain sourdough bread? That wouldn’t hurt, right? (Pay no attention to the dirty counter. It’s a figment of your imagination.)
Hello reader fair and true,
I’ve been traveling and terribly busy these last few weeks, so I’ve been tardy. But here is a nice long installment for you at last, giving a bit more background about how TROPH changed the world and what Josep thought of it all.
By the time the highly publicized and successful study was concluded, the public had already developed an appetite for the miracle pills. Following its brisk FDA approval process, the new pills, dubbed Lotuzen, were brought to the eager American market. The only question was, where to start?
The TROPH executive board took advantage of the sells-itself nature of a food/medical pill, and took a somewhat riskier advertising approach than their marketing corps advised. Lotuzen was gleefully and only quasi-ironically sold first via infomercial aired on daytime TV. (At the time they still had to be gotten via a prescription, and the tweaks to the medical dosages could only be accomplished between three-month order, but nothing was stopping TROPH from using faded celebrities with fashion lines from extolling the virtues of Lotuzen.) Nothing could be more tacky, and the level of derision from tech blogs was as high as you’d imagine. But the cunning mind of Dr. Chu compassed all of this. They all had to admit, a couple of years later, that she knew what she was doing. She had a close relationship with her own technophobic parents, even as her fame grew, and she observed their responses to advertising and knew that held the key. As she expected, this bizarre tactic had the effect of bringing in the large print crowd as soon as the pills came to market, while somehow not damaging TROPH’s image with young people and early adopters. “Lotuzen – As Seen on TV” remained a key part of their cheeky branding for many years.
Slowly at first, then precipitously, people simply stopped eating. Previous generations could hardly imagine such a huge change in human ritual, but at least in the US and other advanced countries with shallow food culture, it seemed to happen overnight. Eating was now something done only occasionally, at once a great sensual pleasure and a bizarre inconvenience. People would still go out to eat, but it had the same exotic pomp as going to the opera. Anyone who ate had to be a great epicure, otherwise the expense and trouble weren’t worth it. Eating more than a light snack even once a week was reckoned extravagance. Certainly there were quite a few thinkpieces in those early years about the death of a close connection with the earth and one of life’s great and simple joys, but all this reminded one of nothing so much as the advent of the smartphone. Things like this always have a certain tinge of the ridiculous at first, as do the people who take to them too earnestly, but within a few years, people can’t imagine their lives without them. Josep couldn’t remember a time before Lotuzen, but he could still remember this transition period. There were a lot of fat people then, he remembered. How odd. Fatness seemed so quaint to him now, as did the violent stigma against it and the immense struggles that people faced with it.
Now in his fortieth year, he was witnessing and most artfully commenting on an equally interesting transition—if less important medically, just as meaningful culturally. For one thing, only last year an unprecedentedly ecumenical panel of holy fathers and mothers from the world’s faiths came together to discuss the impact of the holorestaurants on religious guidelines around fasting and dietary restrictions. So consuming and novel was the question as to whether it was the substance of what was put in the body, or the carnal experience of the pleasure of food (whether this be any food, or particular forbidden foods, depending on the application) which truly distanced one from the divine, that what was supposed to be a four-day summit ended up lasting forty. It certainly didn’t seem fair that someone could take a food pill—created of synthetic ingredients and providing no real pleasure of its own—and be reckoned disobedient, while someone could skip the food pill and eat a five-course meal at a holorestaurant and be considered abstinent. This issue was of more moment even than the long and bitter debate around birth control, since various methods of contraception had been available in various forms for millennia and the sexual activities remained (mostly) the same.
The decisions reached by the governing bodies of the panel fell, as one might expect, more along conservative/liberal lines than along faith lines. It caused more than one major schism, as some of the more modern sects even considered the holographic food to be accepted in rituals involving the consumption of food. Josep had thought about writing a cute little column wondering whether the new ultra-modern Jews at least required that a rabbi be one of the programmers of the bitter herbs simulation. But his own lapsed Judaism was enough of a sore spot that he decided to pass on it; he had to admit that he felt 25% less guilty chowing down on a simulated bacon cheeseburger when the high holidays rolled around than he would have otherwise. In any case, the painful process of any religion in continuing to be “in the world but not of the world” rolled on.