Laughing at my own exhaustion

The last few weeks around here have been incredibly tiring.  Some of it has been exciting and good, some has just been frustrating and stupid.

I hadn’t quite realized just how tired I was, though, until a few moments ago when O handed me a hand-written note that had something underlined in it, and I tried to click the link.

Le sigh.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The most expensive jam pot in the history of jam pots

Yesterday I got a shiny new toy.  It’s something I’ve wanted for many years, and I was finally able to get one, and get it on sale to boot.

Today I made my first batch of jam in it.  And then my entire day went completely pear shaped and got very, very expensive.

We have a stove that everyone in the house hates.  Passionately.  It came with the house, so it wasn’t something any of us chose.

Whoever thought up the concept of glass topped stoves deserves a solid ass-kicking.  They don’t heat well.  They don’t heat evenly.  Their heat is rather random and uncontrollable.  They are a giant pain in the ass to clean.  They scratch, they stain, they suck.

Also, apparently, they can MELT.

I assumed that if I dropped something heavy on it that the top would shatter.  That seemed like a given.  It never occurred to me that I could possible get that stupid thing hot enough (lord knows, it doesn’t get hot when you *want* it to) to damage itself, but while making jam today I realized that the jam was burning on the bottom (rather suddenly), and when I slid the jam pot to the cold half of the stove and looked at the burner that was on, it wasn’t its usual bright red with visible coils, but a large disk of glowing yellow-orange.  I didn’t think too much of it until a few seconds later when I heard a loud WHUMP-POP.  I looked again and realized that the middle of the burner had slumped and that the whole surface of the stove had just cracked (including one small piece from the middle that shot straight up in the air – we never did find that).  Once it cooled down, the glass that had been glowing turned a weird milky grey.

Shattered:

Slumped:

Weird and milky:

Appliance shopping is not how I wanted to spend my afternoon.  Not even a little bit.  Also?  Good stoves are expensive.  Stupidly so.  Grrr.

The jam did not survive, either.

“The Yellow Ones Taste Funny”

So says the child, who refuses to eat the golden raspberries.

I do have to admit that I ate one of the first of our red ones to ripen yesterday, and it was the best tasting raspberry I’ve ever eaten.  Way better than any of the golden ones so far.  Not sure why, but all of the red ones we’ve gotten so far are tiny – less than half the size of the gold ones.

My father has a theory he calls the Unit Flavor Theory – basically that things like strawberries have a finite amount of flavor that each berry can have, and so the small ones will have a much more concentrated flavor than the big ones will.   Elephant garlic is a fine example, too: giant and bland.  The little red raspberry I ate yesterday proved his theory to me once again.  Mmmmmm.  Raspberries.

This morning the garden yielded up:

  • golden raspberries: 4lbs 6.7oz (2006g)
  • red rasberries: 5.7oz (161g)
  • beets: 3.4oz (96g)
  • peas: 2.6oz (75g)

I started picking berries with the smallish mixing bowl, and had to go swap it out for one of the giant ones.  I honestly have no idea what to do with all these raspberries.  Ideas?

Anyone?  Anyone?  Bueller?