Monthly Archives: September 2013

Stop and Smell the Bacon

Bacon. It’s one of life’s fatty little joys. Especially when you have fresh tomatoes from your own garden and can combine the two for BLT’s.

That’s what we had for supper the other night. Well, actually, since I discovered at the last minute that we were out of lettuce, we had BT’s. Close enough. It’s the bacon and tomatoes that matter the most, anyway. (I briefly considered substituting spinach, but somehow BST’s just wouldn’t have been the same.)

Anyway, while I was cooking, I had one of those stop-and-smell-the-bacon moments of pondering, and the significant life question that crossed my mind was, “What in the heck is a rasher?”

As in a “rasher of bacon.” It’s one of those descriptions that shows up now and then, particularly for those of us who read British mysteries. But how much bacon is in a rasher?

Inquiring minds wanted to know. So, as soon as they had chomped down their BT and wiped the bacon grease off their fingers, inquiring minds went off to look it up.

Three dictionaries later, inquiring minds were confused. All three sources defined rasher as both A, a thin slice of bacon, and B, a serving of several slices of bacon. Apparently, a “rasher” could consist of several rashers. None of them knew where the term “rasher” came from, either. That was certainly enlightening.

At least most the other odd terms of weights and measures we use have some precision. Take “teaspoon” and “tablespoon,” for example. Any good cookbook will tell you that a tablespoon equals half an ounce and there are three teaspoons in a tablespoon.

Of course, that doesn’t explain why they have the names they do. When I was a kid, it never made sense to me that the spoons we put on the table at mealtimes were “teaspoons,” while the only time we used “tablespoons” for eating was when we had soup. Which is probably why we called them “soup spoons.”

It wasn’t until I got a little older and started reading British mysteries that I figured out some people used the larger spoons for eating and the smaller ones for stirring their tea. Today, while I am no longer confused if I see people actually using a tablespoon to eat something besides soup, I still don’t do so myself. And I don’t care who you are, using a tablespoon for ice cream is just not right.

Maybe it’s because they use large spoons at the table that the Brits measure their weight in “stones.” Or maybe it’s just that, when your money is “pounds,” you don’t want to confuse your net worth and your net weight. The dictionaries were not enlightening on this point. They did, however, inform me that a stone equals 14 pounds.

Now that’s a unit of measure any experienced dieter could get used to. Just consider the difference between, “I gained half a stone,” and, “I gained seven pounds.”

But whether you measure your weight in pounds or stones, I do know one thing. If you don’t want too much of it, don’t get rash with your rashers of bacon.

Categories: Food and Drink, Words for Nerds | Tags: , , | 1 Comment

When the Frost Is on the Banana Peels

Okay, let’s be clear. I love having a self-defrosting refrigerator. If anyone tried to remove the one in our kitchen, they’d have to pry the ice cube trays out of my cold blue fingers first.

But there’s no question that there is a small benefit to being forced to defrost the freezer once a year or so. At least it gives you an opportunity to find out what’s buried back there behind the ice cream and bags of frozen peas.

Otherwise, some people—I am, of course, speaking theoretically here—might never get around to cleaning out the freezer. They could just leave stuff in there for years and years. Or at least until their hands are forced by outside factors.

Such as the chance to buy a lot of high-quality meat at an unbeatable price. With the cold, hard reality of two coolers full of beef sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, suddenly there’s a real need to conduct a freezer excavation.

The benefits of this project aren’t limited to making room for some scrumptious steaks and getting rid of unrecognizable frozen blobs of ancient leftovers. There is real scientific knowledge to be gained.

For example, whipped topping, left in the freezer in its original container for, oh, a couple of years or so, tends to shrink. It turns into a lump of something vaguely cream-colored with the consistency of old spackling compound. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to put this on a piece of pumpkin pie.

Given enough time and judicious doses of freezer burn, a bag of frozen zucchini and a bag of frozen tomatoes become almost indistinguishable.

When freezing leftovers, it’s a good idea to write the date and a brief description on the bag. Something like, “broccoli-rice casserole that nobody liked anyway.” That way you’ll know exactly what it is when you throw it out a couple of years later.

If you have overripe bananas you want to use for future banana bread, it’s fine to just toss them into the freezer, peels and all. But if you never quite get around to making any bread, the bananas eventually mummify. Except for the shape, a desiccated banana with its innards collapsed and its peel black and shriveled tends to bear a strong resemblance to National Geographic photos of bog bodies.

Unfortunately, these scientific observations are based on a very small sample. For statistically significant results, I would have to become more like one of my late relatives. I’m not going to name him, just in case I might have inherited some of his hoarding tendencies. When he moved out of his house, the unfortunate family members who got stuck with the task of cleaning it out found stacks and stacks of stuff like decades-old new shirts still in their original packages.

And frozen food. At the bottom of his big chest-type freezer were ten ice-covered hearts. Before you start imagining CSI episodes or gory thrillers, let me hasten to clarify that they were beef hearts. Presumably, they went into the freezer at different times over at least a ten-year period, whenever he got them from friends who were butchering their own beef.

The hearts, like pretty much everything else in the freezer, went straight to the dump. A shame, in a way. It might have been a perfect chance to study the relative rates of freeze-drying mummification in bovine tissue. Oh, well, just another lost scientific opportunity.

Which I need to be careful not to recreate in my own small freezer. Excuse me while I go thaw out a couple of steaks for dinner.

Categories: Food and Drink | Tags: , , | 3 Comments

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