i fought web 2.0, and web 2.0 won. bigtime. my friend at work, g, is really handy with techy stuff, way more than i am. i'm a creature of habit. every year or so, i'll stumble haphazardly onto a new site, and add it to my carefully edited and managed list of bookmarks (i'm currently in the mid-forties range). i don't like clicking on random links, and i only cottoned on to rss feeds this summer. before that seminal moment, i took the luddite approach: allow the cursor to hover lovingly over my bookmarks, let the drop down menu unfurl, check each website every morning to see if there had been an update. it was clunky, but i thought it worked. well, google reader effectively put an end to my laborious mornings spent checking infrequently updated blogs. so i thought that i'd give del.icio.us a try. first of all, i hate the freakin' spelling of the site. i can never remember where the randomized periods go! secondly, i downloaded the features for firefox and now my browser toolbars are all effed up. i don't know how useful de.lici.ious will be, but i've given it a gander, and have obligingly meta-dated the f**k out of my pitiful number of bookmarked pages, using a terse, unimaginative cataloguing system. we'll see.
dinner tonight was a quasi-bouillabaise. i sauteed fennel, onion, carrot and celery in oil, added a good plop of garlic, some tomato paste, fennel, cumin, chili flakes and thyme, deglazed with white wine and added clam juice and water. threw some chunks of tilapia, shrimp, and jumbo scallops in there for the final minutes, after i had pureed the soup and tasted for seasoning. i served it with a roasted red pepper rouille on top of toasted whole wheat baguette slices. there is an indescribable alchemy that occurs when rouille hits a saffron-lashed fish soup kissed with tomato, with crispy bread as a vehicle. it's like oreos and a cold glass of milk, or gravy and french fries. the two together become something altogether transcendent, an orchestra of texture and bold, brash, punchy flavours. tasty.
i had a weird experience at the fish store. as i was placing my order, the guy being served before me, made a point of saying that he's seen me around, "either in the early morning or around this time," he concluded that "we must have similar schedules" (ummm...yeah assjack, it's called 9-5, this isn't freaking sleepless in freakin seattle). he made a point of introducing himself to me, so i did the same, i guess i shouldn't be churlish to a fellow east sider. here's hoping he doesn't turn out to be a serial killer. i couldn't love my neighbourhood any more if i tried (a familiar refrain for faithful readers, but indulge me as i rhapsodize for a spell).
- i love the fact that the chinese people who own the veggie store i go to let me slide if i'm short a buck or two, and are endlessly amused by the game that the dotytron and i play where we try to guess the total of the produce we bought before it's rung up (price is right rules: closest without going over), and how they laugh each and every time the dotytron gets it bang on and i shoot over by like, 50 dollars.
- i love the hot guy who works at the bulk store who's wardrobe consists of venom and punisher t-shirts (with led zepplin thrown in for flavour), as well as the much less hot guy who also works there, with whom i converse at length about our shared dream of someday attending comic-con
- i love the old guy at square boy who pinches my cheeks and pretends to deny me root beer when i order my combo, or tells me that everyone else in the restaurant is allowed to have gravy on their fries except for me.
- i love the cute couple who are my tailors/dry cleaners, who just went to vegas for the holidays and tell me that my boyfriend better treat me right or else they're going to marry me off to someone who deserves me.
anyway, i love my 'hood. i love how it's a collection of independently operated stores that when combined provide for almost every need you could possibly have, and that it's a right proper 'hood with character.