Doug vs. the interweb

June 17th, 2010 11:39 PM

Meat porridge

I slow cooked a chunk of beef the other day; I had it on low for the entire time I was at work. When I got home, for some reason it didn't seem done enough, so I turned it to high, then went out to get supplies. I guess I figured that after a whole day of cooking, it would have just fallen immediately to pieces if it was done enough. This was obviously mistaken, for when I got back, it pretty much did fall to pieces when I tried to lift it out of its broth, and the final consistency ended up being less pulled-beef, and more beef-mush. Regardless, I've been eating it all week, trying to come up with ways to make it work. This was obviously a bad choice though, since slow cooking beef, as well as making enchiladas, are no quick thing, and at the same time I had decided I would simultaneously do a lot of exploring the area, as well as overhaul some of the tanks. I don't know what magical unicorn-land I expected to summon the time from in order to do all that.

I've got a couple thoughts: one, what would happen if you slow cooked ground beef? My beef mush has the grain of the meat still keeping it somewhat meat-like, but if it had started as ground, what would you get? Meat porridge? Sounds revolting, but also somewhat intriguing.

Two, what if Bruce and the E street band were to cover a couple classic ska songs? They've got everything they'd need to handle almost any of the styles. I was listening to him and one of his songs started with a beat that just made me think of ska, and my mind wandered.

Anyway. Ever since Sunday, I've been meaning to go up to St. Pete's. I don't remember if I've talked about it on here before, but my site's search function is being completely useless. I'd say I need to fix it, but let's be serious: this site is a gargantuan pile of arbitrarily placed cards that just so happen to form the shape of something marginally useful. I generally prefer not to mess with it anymore, unless it's outright completely broken.

My superpower is inability to remain on topic. Ok, so St. Pete's -- and old mining town in the woods near here. There's a creek that runs through it, and due to the nature of the ground, it's carved itself into a rather large field of boulders in the woods. There's all kind of waterfalls, pools, gigantic rocks, etc. Also, I hear there's great hiking to be had there, but I've never gotten far past the boulders simply because they are more immediately intriguing. I get to exercise my inner mountain goat and leap about.

Well, I was going to visit it on Sunday after getting back here, but halfway here the Rain of the Fury-Gods took hold of the skies. It had stopped by the time I was back, but since the temperature was about 90 beforehand, the leftover humidity left things a bit too soupy for comfort. The last time I visited that place on a humid day, my glasses and camera lenses both would not stop fogging up, since all the swirling water there compounds the humidity.

Today, there was a fantastic breeze and the sky was full of fluffy white clouds, as opposed to forboding grey overcast like it's been for a while. I got myself on over there real quick like (it turns out it's only a 15 minute drive; I had it pegged as a lot longer), with my backpack of readiness at hand. I've taken to bringing it, along with a couple jars and my small net all packed up neatly -- you never know what creatures you may find. I am a weirdo and generally find myself reciting in my mind all the things I would say to people if they stopped me and asked me just what the heck I'm doing, since I generally do things I don't see other people doing. Of course, the one time I wasn't really paying attention to how I might appear to others, I walk past a lady and two boys, and one of them says hello and asks if I'm going hiking. Oh yeah, I've got a backpack on! But I wasn't officially hiking (I feel like there's a line that's drawn between wandering the woods and hiking), so I said as much. Then he mentions, "nice stick." What. Oh, the net. "It's a net, actually." "Oh, so you're fishing?" "Well, not really, just looking for who knows what!" And so the kid continues on his way, probably confused. I'm wondering if he was just subtly making fun of me for having a metal stick poking two feet out my backpack. WHO KNOWS. But regardless, I'm brought all back to being fully aware of myself.

Alright, I managed to eat my pulled-beef-mush sandwiches in the time it's taken me to get not halfway to my entire point (as an aside, toasting the buns and adding some cheddar made them fantastic, so I've finally figured out a good way to eat them, after four nights of trying). Walking further down the stream, far past where the boulder field gives out to regular stream-ness, I was surprised to find it teeming with life. As an example, usually I have a hard time finding crayfish, and I'm lucky to happen upon one after lifting a rock, but stepping along in the water, crayfish darted all up in that place. I took especial notice of any off-shoots of the creek, where the water would get slower moving and more isolated, and in one of those nooks, I crouched closer to see what there was to see. Impossibly tiny moving dots turned out to be tadpoles, probably recently hatched. There seemed to be some leeches and water bugs, and... the outline of a tiny snapping turtle. Looking closer, I see a second outline next to him. Fantastic! I had been really wanting to find snapper babies, and somehow I stumbled upon two. I believe the era of frogs has given way to the era of turtles.