When you remove it the turkey will be dead black. You will think, “My God! I have ruined it.” Be calm. Take a tweezer and pry loose the paste coating. It will come off readily. Beneath this burnt, harmless, now worthless shell the bird will be golden and dark brown, succulent, giddy-making with wild aromas, crisp and crunchable and crackling. The meat beneath this crazing panorama of lip-wetting skin will be wet, juice will spurt from it in tiny fountains high as the handle of the fork plunged into it; the meat will be white, crammed with mocking flavor, delirious with things that rush over your palate and are drowned and gone as fast as you can swallow; cut a little of it with a spoon, it will spread on bread as eagerly and readily as soft wurst.
The Kombucha Chronicles – Part One I’ll be the first to admit that I jumped on the Kombucha bandwagon – like most people – quite recently. As it was with my mullet, I was a bit late joining the fad, but my dedication to the art and execution have remained unwavering once becoming hooked. Unlike my mullet however, my partner likes my kombucha and it remains a socially acceptable topic of discussion and display. The Kombucha Chronicles document my exploration into the world of SCOBYs and mothers and probiotics. Comments and suggestions are welcome: the little time I’ve spent brewing and reading about brewing is […]
I think I’ll study Git at the terminal level more thoroughly before trying the Windows Desktop interface again.