I have a bicycle now! A Novara Express XX Women's bicycle, to be precise.
I've ridden it twice now, and I've got the sore saddle to prove it. I see the podiatrist today, and I figure if he OK's running again, I can warm up on this baby because, after a twenty minute ride, my feet are GOLDEN. Oh, for more hours in the morning.
(Update: I wrote that yesterday. It's Achilles Tendonitis; the doc OK'ed treadmill running after another week of rest. I can live with that. I can still ride outside.)
Incidentally? It needs a name. I'll work on that.
The same day this baby entered my life, my mom and I stopped by the residence of her friend, an expert acquirer of used goods that mostly reside on her second story. It's the sort of home you'd either call "cluttered" or "a treasure trove." Guess which camp I'd join. Sorry; I have a weakness for stuff.
So while I'm braving the Great Upstairs, I notice a pile of cast iron pans. Particularly, this odd little fellow popped out at me:
The goodies that emerge from this baby range in name and flavor from "puff pancakes" (filled with jam and topped with maple syrup for maximum approachability) to the Japanese street food "takoyaki" (with a chunk of boiled octopus inside and a shower of salty-sweet sauce and writhing, papery fish flakes), but if Williams-Sonoma has a say in it, they'll be best recognized as "Ebelskivers," a Dutch treat that's like a middle ground between pancakes and popovers. (Or so I've heard.) (I have had the takoyaki, of course. Seriously, those fish flakes WRITHE.)
"I didn't know you had an ebelskiver pan," I said, going downstairs.
"A what?" responded mom's friend, totally blankly. I explained that it was the name for the pan with the little holes in it. "Is that what it is? I just got it because it was cast iron. You can have it."
What? You're sure? Waffle, waffle. Yes, she was sure. It's mine now, and it shall do my bidding. (Okay, so I'm thinking savory right now, but that's just because I still don't fully trust sweets. I'm working on it!)
Incidentally? It, too, needs a name.
I've ridden it twice now, and I've got the sore saddle to prove it. I see the podiatrist today, and I figure if he OK's running again, I can warm up on this baby because, after a twenty minute ride, my feet are GOLDEN. Oh, for more hours in the morning.
(Update: I wrote that yesterday. It's Achilles Tendonitis; the doc OK'ed treadmill running after another week of rest. I can live with that. I can still ride outside.)
Incidentally? It needs a name. I'll work on that.
The same day this baby entered my life, my mom and I stopped by the residence of her friend, an expert acquirer of used goods that mostly reside on her second story. It's the sort of home you'd either call "cluttered" or "a treasure trove." Guess which camp I'd join. Sorry; I have a weakness for stuff.
So while I'm braving the Great Upstairs, I notice a pile of cast iron pans. Particularly, this odd little fellow popped out at me:
The goodies that emerge from this baby range in name and flavor from "puff pancakes" (filled with jam and topped with maple syrup for maximum approachability) to the Japanese street food "takoyaki" (with a chunk of boiled octopus inside and a shower of salty-sweet sauce and writhing, papery fish flakes), but if Williams-Sonoma has a say in it, they'll be best recognized as "Ebelskivers," a Dutch treat that's like a middle ground between pancakes and popovers. (Or so I've heard.) (I have had the takoyaki, of course. Seriously, those fish flakes WRITHE.)
"I didn't know you had an ebelskiver pan," I said, going downstairs.
"A what?" responded mom's friend, totally blankly. I explained that it was the name for the pan with the little holes in it. "Is that what it is? I just got it because it was cast iron. You can have it."
What? You're sure? Waffle, waffle. Yes, she was sure. It's mine now, and it shall do my bidding. (Okay, so I'm thinking savory right now, but that's just because I still don't fully trust sweets. I'm working on it!)
Incidentally? It, too, needs a name.
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