I'm sure I've mentioned the farmer next door who came looking for his pigs in our complex one day? Yes, he farms a plot of land over there which I view each time I go in or out of the complex. It seems to have the power of the legendary beanstalk that Jack climbed. I tell you, it is growing at such a rate that I simply MUST know how he does it. How is it that just a quarter mile away in my own little garden, everything was chomped, stolen, destroyed overnight and his plot flourishes so, leaving me green (cheesey pun entirely intended) with envy?
Well, I have some options. I could a. go over and ask him in my broken French how he does it and if I can have a plant, or b. stare longingly at the plot each time I go by, make some guesses, spend some time online, and try once again to make a garden at our house. A is a lot of courage for me to be honest, but B is a whole lot of work which could just be stolen again in the night. Wait a minute...maybe the pigs took my garden? Maybe they ate it. Which would mean they would have returned home to their lush plot and 'fertilized' that plot, making some of that plot rightfully mine, right?
Maybe I'll start with finding out what he's doing over there. It's a veritable farm and I'm jealous. I'll keep you posted, as I'm pretty determined to be a gardening success at some point.
Sep 23, 2009
Facts about refrigerators and cheese
Contrary to popular (I can only assume American, since it's my experience) belief, cheese in fact does not need to be refrigerated in order to be consumed without falling ill in the way of something similar to Montezuma's revenge. This I learned during our Experiment: no Frigo. I admit it: I bought cheese anyway. I wanted it. I figured, like so often in the past, I would simply sit down with a block of cheese and a knife on the sofa, watch tv, and it would be bliss as usual.
Yah. Not so much.
First let me clarify about the cheese not needing to be refrigerated. Apparently, according to my French (read:Guadeloupean is an entirely different breed of French but I have yet to determine exactly how to call it) boyfriend, he knows people - French people - who live in France - who keep cheeses in a fridge that is not plugged into any electrical power thereby rendering it not cold. The saying goes, "The cheese isn't ready to eat until it has moved at least five millimeters." Remember, nobody's moving the cheese. They wait for the cheese to ... fester...until it shifts...and then, and only then is it ready for consumption.
Alrighty then. When it comes to cheese, I'll try almost anything. So I bought the cheese and kept it in an airtight container, sans refrigeration, and nibbled at it for a few days. It's hot here. And humid. And I began to realize that the cheese moving-waiting people probably live in a climate that, I don't know, gets SNOW?! Or at the very least is not a climate like this, where, if left standing still for any tiny length of time, food and humans alike attract various bugs like LA does wannabe movie stars. Holy sweaty cheese, Batman. After the taste began to go in a direction that didn't really work for me, I left the cheese there just to see if it would in fact move.
It didn't. Well, it didn't move left, or right, or up. It sank a bit in the center and crusted a little on the edges, but I'm not sure this is enough to consider it as in the running for being consumed by a hearty French elderly in the countryside.
After a few days I opened the box to receive the gift of old non refrigerated cheese. Read: on a tropical island. Not. Good.
In conclusion, I'm keeping my cheese cold, or room temp for now. Hot cheese needs to be on pizza or fondue. That being said, I dare say that I relish the idea of visiting that person on the farm with the non operating fridge full of moving cheese and tasting a few bites. What could go wrong?
What's that? Who's calling for me? Monty? Montezuma? Ah yes, no, no I'm not taking that call.
Yah. Not so much.
First let me clarify about the cheese not needing to be refrigerated. Apparently, according to my French (read:Guadeloupean is an entirely different breed of French but I have yet to determine exactly how to call it) boyfriend, he knows people - French people - who live in France - who keep cheeses in a fridge that is not plugged into any electrical power thereby rendering it not cold. The saying goes, "The cheese isn't ready to eat until it has moved at least five millimeters." Remember, nobody's moving the cheese. They wait for the cheese to ... fester...until it shifts...and then, and only then is it ready for consumption.
Alrighty then. When it comes to cheese, I'll try almost anything. So I bought the cheese and kept it in an airtight container, sans refrigeration, and nibbled at it for a few days. It's hot here. And humid. And I began to realize that the cheese moving-waiting people probably live in a climate that, I don't know, gets SNOW?! Or at the very least is not a climate like this, where, if left standing still for any tiny length of time, food and humans alike attract various bugs like LA does wannabe movie stars. Holy sweaty cheese, Batman. After the taste began to go in a direction that didn't really work for me, I left the cheese there just to see if it would in fact move.
It didn't. Well, it didn't move left, or right, or up. It sank a bit in the center and crusted a little on the edges, but I'm not sure this is enough to consider it as in the running for being consumed by a hearty French elderly in the countryside.
After a few days I opened the box to receive the gift of old non refrigerated cheese. Read: on a tropical island. Not. Good.
In conclusion, I'm keeping my cheese cold, or room temp for now. Hot cheese needs to be on pizza or fondue. That being said, I dare say that I relish the idea of visiting that person on the farm with the non operating fridge full of moving cheese and tasting a few bites. What could go wrong?
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