cats

scientific proof

Autumn (the best season, and make no mistake) is on its way.

a mellocreme pumpkin

I have proof.

Or rather, I had proof.  But, because I am basically a LOLcat at heart, I eated it.  Nom!

The first Mellocreme Pumpkin of the season has been et.  Bring on the Autumn!

Fez is ready.  She is practicing her hibernation skills with the dog’s squeaky stuffed hedgehog.

Fez the cat sleeps with a stuffed hedgehog

Y’all know about the Schadenfreude carnival that is the Cake Wrecks blog, right?  No?  Well, now you do.

Posted in blogs, cats, desserts No Comments »

How Not To Make Chili

First, buy a hunk of beef.  A piece of round roast, eye in this case rather than bottom, because it was super-duper cheap because its sell-by date was today and I bought it yesterday when they were doing their darndest to clear it out and I knew I’d be cooking it today.

Next, put the hunk of beef in the freezer.  It’s a lot easier to cut meat into small uniform pieces if it’s partially frozen, so leave it in there for an hour and a half or so.  Not long enough to freeze all the way hard, but definitely long enough to firm it up thoroughly.

Remove the beef from the freezer.  Unwrap, and place on cutting board.  Get out your favorite butcher’s knife or cleaver and slice meat across the grain into finger-thick slices.  Then take each slice and cut into four or five crosswise strips, and then cut the strips into 1/2-inch dice.

Pile the chopped meat at one end of the cutting board while you get out a large heavy cast-iron pan and put a small but workable quantity of oil in the bottom, and put it on a highish heat.

Turn around to find that your kitten has soundlessly levitated up onto the cutting board and is standing with one paw half on the blade of the knife, half off — the sharp side, too — and the other paw smack in the middle of your pile of meat while he does his level best to eat as much as he possibly can.  Realize that shouting may result in a cat with a sliced paw due to cat’s foot placement.

Carefully, use right hand to grasp knife handle and press sharp edge of blade firmly against cutting board while grasping scruff of cat’s neck with left hand.  Lift cat from cutting board, ignoring the chunk of meat dangling from his claw and the one hanging out of his mouth.  Deposit cat on kitchen floor, where he will look offended and continue to eat the beef he managed to take with him.

Ponder what to do now that a cat has been dancing in your raw meat.  Cat will now look up at you with wide pitiable eyes and meow at you in as plaintive a starving-orphan-kittycat fashion as he can manage.  Vent frustration with cat by stomping, hissing, yelling, waving arms, and flapping your skirts at him until he runs and hides in the basement.

Return to kitchen, asking self the question “WWJD?”  In this case that means “What Would Julia Do?”  (Despite the fact that Julia Child never actually <i>did</i> drop a roast on the air (see Snopes for details), nor yet had a cat marching about in her ingredients, I feel sanguine that she would’ve figured out a good solution if she had.)

Resolve that
a) this meat will be first seared at a high heat, then boiled in and subsequently simmered all day in an acidic (tomato) liquid, so
b) it is unlikely to successfully breed any nasty bacteria despite having been partially trodden by my horrible kitten.

Wash the meat in plenty of cold running water anyhow, for the purpose of rinsing off any yuk or cat hairs introduced in the feline snacking process.  Be sure to turn down the heat under your pan, or the oil will start to smoke.  Note that at this point, your ankles are being made ardent love to, and that an insistent chorus of chirps and trills is emanating from under your skirt.  (Yes, I have a singing pussy.  He’s quiet when he wants to be, though, quod erat very much previously demonstrandum.)

Ignore Feline Aria of Loving Adoration And Hopeful Petition For More Beefy Goodness.  Similarly ignore equally loving and similarly hopeful looks from the dog, who has come to see what’s going on because if the kitten is getting some of that meat, he wants a cut of the action.

Sear beef cubes heavily on all sides, then remove them to the stockpot.

Roughly dice four onions and saute until transparent in the oil and rendered fat from the beef, in the same pan.

While onions are cooking, open one large can crushed tomatoes and one large can diced tomatoes.  Go to dump can of diced tomatoes into stockpot.  Stumble badly due to treading on the tail of the aforementioned kitten, who until that instant had been operating on the assumption that if singing to me didn’t get me to give him anything, the least he could do was sprawl across the middle of the kitchen floor to keep an eye on things in case some meat magically flew out of the pot and landed on the floorboards. In attempt to not fall, lose grip on open can of tomatoes.

Chase tomato-splashed kitten in an attempt to grab him before he can get tomato on the couch (cream-coloured), upstairs carpet (light tan), or bedspread (light blue).  Get an escort from the dog, who wants to know what’s going on, but really doesn’t care because he thinks this thing where we both chase the kitten up the stairs is a fantastic game.

Catch tomato-splashed kitten despite canine assistance.  Without heed to how much tomato gets all over one’s own person, deposit kitten in bathtub and rinse clean, ignoring heart-rending yowls and pleas for someone, anyone, for the love of God, to contact Kitty Amnesty International.

Towel-dry and release kitten, who jets off  into the bedroom to lick himself the rest of the way dry.  Wonder why you didn’t think of just dousing him with water earlier, as the task of licking himself dry seems likely to keep him occupied for some time.

Return to kitchen.  Open reserve can of diced tomatoes, add to stockpot, along with can of crushed tomatoes.  Fill both cans with water and add that to the stockpot, too.  Turn heat on under stock pot to a medium flame.

Clean tomato and/or tomato juice off of more kitchen surfaces than you thought possible.  Scoop up as much from the floor as you can, and discard. Sop up the liquid with sponge and paper towel. Then mop the floor, which has now been mopped twice in two days, thank you very much.

Add chili powder, oregano, a handful of peeled garlic cloves (whole), and some epazote to the stockpot and stir.  Notice as you are doing this that you missed several little spots of tomato juice on the cupboard-fronts.

Sponge clean the affected cupboard-fronts.

Look despondently at the other ingredients you’ve set out in order to do the other cooking you planned to do this morning, and instead of embarking immediately upon making tabbouleh or cha siu, go sit down with the computer for a bit instead while the meat and onions have a chance to simmer.  You’ll put beans in later, as per usual. Do not under any circumstances think about the fact that eating raw meat tends to give the kitten an upset stomach.

No, really.  Do not think about it.  It’s not going to help, anyway.  That train has left the station.  There is nothing in the world you can do.

Posted in cats, domesticity, housekeeping, humor, original recipes No Comments »

Cats and Cookies

Much of my night last night was spent frozen in one position by three opportunistic cats. One was sleeping on top of my hip, one was curled behind my knees, and the third was curled up under my chin and against my chest. While I am pleased that Kitty Detente has proceeded, after less than a week of them all being together in a currently-at-war Feline States can agree to put aside their differences long enough to live up to their reputation as body-heat leeches, one of these days I am going to be deeply enough asleep that I don’t know they’re there and I will roll over, whereupon I will be exsanguinated when my semiconscious carcass becomes the site of triple-threat kitty warfare caused by the undesired instantaneous collision of hostile forces due to shifting ground.

And now that I have done the needful and bolstered the Internet’s daily quota of cat-related content, I will fulfill the other of the Two True Purposes of the Internet by providing you a gratuitious bit of kitty porn in the form of Inspector Qiao’s spotty, stripey little sleepy belly:

Inspector Qiao shows his belly.

Several tweaks to a basically standard molasses spice cookie last night have yielded a truly superior item. Try it, you’ll like it. If you like molasses spice cookies, that is.

Nearly Platonic Molasses Spice Cookies

4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 teaspoons ground Ceylon cinnamon
3 1/2 teaspoons ground dried ginger
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cloves
1 teaspoon ground allspice
2 teaspoons baking soda

1/2 pound butter, at room temperature
1 1/2 cups molasses sugar (muscovado sugar would also work)
2 cups white sugar
generous 1/2 cup blackstrap molasses
2 large eggs

extra white sugar for rolling

Prepare pans by lining them with parchment paper or silicone baking sheets. Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.

Sift together dry ingredients, set aside.

Cream butter and sugars until fluffy and uniform in color. Add molasses slowly while beating to incorporate evenly. Add eggs one at a time, beating after each addition.

Add dry ingredients to wet ingredients in 6 roughly equal portions, mixing thoroughly after each addition. Finished dough will be stiff but workable.

Roll dough into large-walnut-sized balls, roll balls in sugar, and place on pans, leaving ample space between them for spreading. Bake 18 minutes at 325, then remove promptly from oven and let cool completely on a cooling rack (about 10 minutes). Cookies will be exceedingly soft when removed from the pan, use of a thinbladed metal spatula is advised; they harden as they cool.

Make these at least 24 hours ahead of when you plan to serve them, and preferably even longer. Like many spice cookies their flavor improves given a few days’ time to bloom. The texture (crisp on the outside, chewy on the inside) should remain uncompromised for up to a week if they are stored in a dry box or tin with a little air circulation.

Makes about 4 dozen.

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A Hanukkah present for my Belovedary

P’an Ku’s Companions,
Or,
Where You Come From

By Hanne Blank, based on Taoist creation myths

For Malcolm, Chanukah 2006 / 5767

A long time ago, so long ago that there was not even such a thing as time, before the sun stretched for the first time and felt its bones glowing bright and hot, the Universe was a vast blank Nothing.

In the Nothing it was not light, it was not dark, it was not clear, it was not foggy, it was simply nothing. Endless nothing, nothing at all. There was no curve to the nothing, no walls, not even the suggestion of a shape, and no time either, nothing that would tell you how long ago it had been or how far in the future it might be, only a single unending moment so dense in its nothingness that when Something finally appeared in the Nothing, the Nothing didn’t even notice it.

The Something noticed, though. Huge and majestic, it noticed in its sleep. Eyelids so large they looked as if they had been stitched out of blue whales’ bellies fluttered but did not open. There was a booming grunt, a colossal fart. Then the Something rolled over, cocooned within swirls of chaos and spouts of sound and skeins of primal Stuff, all of which swaddled the Something head to toe. The Something, the Stuff, the chaos, and all the rest, even the grunts and farts, were in turn contained within a vast eggshell.

The Egg was not contained in anything at all. For eighteen thousand years — or so people say — the Egg waited in the Nothing while the Something slept. Every so often the Something would shift position, and drift close to the surface of the water of Dream that it sensed the Nothing beyond its eggshell bed, but there was no reason to wake up yet.

Until there was.

The Something opened its eyes, blinking away the crusts of symphonies yet-to-be, the someday breakfasts of kings and concubines, and future seaside villages. It yawned, and the cataclysm of sounds within the eggshell arrayed itself in sympathy, vibrating the eggshell so madly that a crack opened up in the shell.

The Something could feel the crack in the Egg like you feel a change in the weather. The pressure of the Stuff rushing toward the crack, compelled by its nature to go toward the Nothing, made his ears pop and his skin tingle. The Egg itself, heretofore a silent player in the drama, gave a shuddering, juddering, miles-long moan of weary yearning.

Oh well, the Something thought. No time like the present.

The Something kicked out with one mighty foot, a foot as big as Chomolungma, on the end of a leg as long as the Amazon, and smashed the eggshell into a million times a million luminous shards.

The chaos rushed out. The sound rushed out. The Stuff rushed out. Glittering fragments of eggshell flew into the Nothing, turning end over end like certain sorts of leaves. And everywhere the chaos went, everywhere the sound went, everywhere the Stuff went, everywhere the eggshell went, they left trails of Something behind them.

In the middle of it all was the Something, titanic and naked. His broad face gleaming and his mighty arms outstretched, he spun madly, fingers splayed, in the middle of what had formerly been the void but now contained him, P’an Ku.

As he got over the shock of it, P’an Ku looked around. The new place was exciting and noisy and busy. It would be impossible to sleep, now. Everything was rushing all over everywhere, now that there was an everywhere for it to rush all over. P’an Ku was spattered all over with globs of it. He wiped Stuff and fragments of eggshell out of his eyes and winkled it out of his ear with a pinky finger. No sooner had he cleaned his face off than another clot of Stuff as big as England hit him square between the eyes.

This will never do, P’an Ku thought as he recovered from the blow. He might have said it aloud but he didn’t want to open his mouth under the circumstances. Instead he started sorting.

P’an Ku plucked Stuff from the air as it passed him, caught sounds as they flew. He snatched scraps of shining eggshell as they hurtled by, and snagged hanks of chaos without even looking. The work made him happy. It seemed to be what he was meant to do.

P’an Ku rolled the Stuff into neat balls, some larger, some smaller. decorating them with fantastic, rich, lush arrangements of sound, and wrapping some of them in lovely complicated webs of chaos, all anchored firmly in the Stuff lest it come loose again. The eggshell bits he put in his mouth, feeling the powerful tingling of them slowly penetrate his whole head until his ears buzzed and his eyes glowed. Now and then he would grin just because it was so amusing how the light of the dazzling eggshell pieces shone through the spaces between his teeth.

Eventually P’an Ku had collected and sorted everything that had come out of the Egg when he cracked it open. Exhausted after all his work, P’an Ku looked around glumly. The last time he slept he had had the Egg to lie down in. Now there was no place to lie down.

What to do? Poor P’an Ku was all alone, with nothing but a mouthful of eggshell and a collection of Stuff-balls, hovering in the deep dark black of space. He still had to figure out what to do with his wonderful collections, his carefully-crafted orbs and his mouthful of luminous eggshell. But he was so weary that his magnificent bones ached. He needed rest before he could continue. So P’an Ku tried to lay down where he was.

This worked, after a fashion, and P’an Ku relaxed, wrapped arms like peninsulas around a torso broad as a desert, and began to shut his eyes. Whereupon a Stuff-ball thwacked him hard in the back of the head. He sat up, clapping a hand across his Grand Canyon mouth lest he give in to the temptation to shout and lose all the eggshell bits.

When P’an Ku looked around he could see that his Stuff-balls, no longer corralled, had gone spinning off into space, and were caroming about wildly just as the Stuff and the chaos and the sound and the eggshell had before.

Fine, thought the exhausted P’an Ku, if that’s the way the Stuff is going to behave, I’ll just have to show it who’s boss.

Rallying the scrag-ends of his strength, P’an Ku began to round up Stuff-balls, leaping through space to catch them in their flight. Each time he caught one, he would mash it into a wad with the others, forming a huge ball of Stuff that got bigger and bigger and bigger with each captured ball, chaos and sound interleaved throughout the enlarging mass, no longer elegant but crushed together willy-nilly.

The more Stuff-balls P’an Ku caught, though, the further he had to go to catch the next, because they were still bouncing and flying, still drawn by the inexorable tendency of Stuff to go where there is none. Too, P’an Ku was carrying his enormous amalgamated ball of Stuff, which rapidly became even larger than he. Because P’an Ku was mighty, he kept carrying it, even when his ball began to dwarf him, and because P’an Ku was determined, he kept hurrying after the missing Stuff-balls while carrying his gigantic prize.

Eventually, though, poor P’an Ku could catch no more. He was simply too tired. By this time, though, his collection had formed a Stuff-ball so huge that even P’an Ku realized it would crush him flat if it should hit him in his sleep. So instead of taking the risk of having the enormous Stuff-ball land on top of him, P’an Ku decided that the solution was for him to get on top of the Stuff-ball.

Depleted to the point that his eyelids sagged and his knees wobbled, P’an Ku stood precariously atop his huge ball. He looked out into the black, dimly able to see hints of faraway rogue Stuff-balls, and sighed so hard that the Essence of Life itself was knocked from its fragile moorings within him. Eyes popping fully open in surprise, P’an Ku watched the slender blue wriggling form of the Essence of Life as it danced away into the black, then toppled onto his back, dead as stones.

Instantly a fountain of light erupted from P’an Ku’s head. His mouth, knocked open by the fall, released its glowing shards of primordial eggshell and they plumed up and up and out into the black, spangling the length of space with stars. The stars lit up the body of the dead P’an Ku, half-buried in the soft Stuff he had collected, smeared with chaos.

Blood ran from his ears, turning clear as it hit the surface of the Stuff-ball, running in rivulets and rivers, collecting in ponds and lakes and even seas. The Essence of Life, drawn by the promising sound of rushing water, came to watch, and her delighted dance made P’an Ku’s thick black hair grow leaves and bark, flowers erupting from its whorls. Even the hair on his toes turned to grass that waved in the breezes and winds that had been set in motion by P’an Ku’s final great sigh. As massive in death as he had been in life, P’an Ku’s flesh turned to stone, his bones to precious jewels, his nerves to veins of gold and silver, which is why the most precious gems and metals are found deep underground, layered in the rock.

By and by, probably through the mad whirling whispers of the Essence of Life, who is the only entity to travel between our Universe and the Realm of the August Personage of Jade whenever she will, word of the magnificent P’an Ku traveled to the Court of the Immortals.

“Hm,” mused the dragon goddess Nü-Kua, preening her beautiful blue body so that it shone almost as brightly as the eternal glow of the heavens. “That sounds like something I would like to see.”

With a flick of her powerful tail, Nü-Kua set off to the resting place of the great P’an Ku, navigating by the stars until she found him.

“Such a beautiful world he made!” she cried, marveling at the greens and blues and browns and golds and reds of it, at the steep majesty of the mountains that were P’an Ku’s body, at the delicious sensation of grass beneath her Divine feet. Nü-Kua swam in the lakes and proclaimed them beautiful and worthy too. She flew through the clouds and proclaimed them beautiful and worthy, too. Nü-Kua warmed herself in the sands of the fiery deserts and cooled herself lingering on the glittering ice shelves of the polar zones. For fun, she raced around the equator, chasing her own tail until she got dizzy and fell giggling into the warm, salty sea.

“The only thing wrong with this world,” Nü-Kua said as she floated on her back in the sea, churning up enormous waves with her superlative tail, “is that there is no one here to enjoy it but me, and I cannot stay forever. When I go back to the Realm of the August Personage of Jade, there will be no one here to keep poor P’an Ku company.”

Nü-Kua swam to shore. Taking mud from the coastal flats, she began to sculpt creatures. With care and precision, Nü-Kua shaped myriad creatures out of the stiff mud: fish and horses, spiders and ducks, gorillas and dogs, elephants and dung beetles, mudskippers and platypuses. Every kind of creature that walks or crawls or creeps or leaps or flies or swims, Nü-Kua made it with her long careful dragon fingers, lining them up at the water’s edge.

Nü-Kua took a step back and regarded her creations. There were almost enough, she thought, but not quite. Scooping up some more mud, she sculpted three more creatures: a woman, a man, and a cat.

“There,” Nü-Kua said, finally pleased. “That’s exactly what was needed. Now P’an Ku will always have company.” With that, Nü-Kua leaned down and breathed her Divine breath into every last one of the creatures, opening their bodies so that the Essence of Life could find a place within them to inhabit. Nü-Kua reached out to the heavens and beckoned to the Essence of Life, who rushed to explore all these new things, and one by one, all the world’s creatures were brought to life.

Having seen to it that P’an Ku would not lack companionship, and having seen all there was to see of the world, Nü-Kua made ready to return to the Realm of the August Personage of Jade. Just then she felt a tiny tap on her left forefoot and looked down to see what it was. It was the Man she had made, kneeling before her in fear, awe, and confusion.

“Please, Great Goddess,” the Man said, “Can you help me? I am so small and this place is so big and I’m afraid I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Nü-Kua nodded, pity welling up in her heart. She had made him rather tiny, hadn’t she, compared to the size of P’an Ku’s world. Why, even had she made a thousand more like the Man, then crammed them all together in a bundle, they wouldn’t be even as big as P’an Ku’s littlest toe. The poor thing was going to need a sense of Purpose if he was going to survive. So Nü-Kua lifted the Man up to eye level and looked him over carefully, then gently brought the trembling creature to her lips. With the tiniest kiss she could manage, she imparted Purpose to the Man, then set him gently back down again.

Now Nü-Kua turned her attention to the Woman, who sat on a fallen tree trunk, playing with the cat with a long piece of grass. It would never do, Nü-Kua thought, to give a gift to the Man without giving a gift to the Woman as well, how unfair! But it was also perfectly clear to Nü-Kua that the woman already had a sense of Purpose, though where she’d gotten it from even Nü-Kua didn’t know.

Nü-Kua thought about it for a moment, then realized she knew exactly what to give the Woman. Nü-Kua encircled the woman’s shoulders with the tip of her tail, so as not to disturb her ability to play with the cat, and with a twitch of her inmost Divine essence, transmitted the gift of Endurance to the Woman.

The woman felt it and smiled, looking up and over her shoulder at the spiraling blue beauty of Nü-Kua. “Thank you,” said the Woman. “That will certainly be useful. I am eternally in your debt, mighty Nü-Kua.”

The Woman bowed deeply from her seat on the log, and when she straightened, she looked up at the dragon goddess again. Nü-Kua’s right eyebrow arched in question, sending sparkling rays of iridescent light arcing crazily across the seashore.

“I was just wondering, O beautiful, O powerful Nü-Kua, about the Cat,” the Woman said. “Have you no gift to give such a marvelous creature as this?”

“The Cat,” answered Nü-Kua with the faintest hint of a smile, “has everything it needs already.”

With that, Nü-Kua lifted her long splendid body into the air and flew off into the stars, guiding herself through and beyond the stars, back to the Realm of the August Personage of Jade.

Posted in cats, short stories, writing No Comments »