As I Waved And Went

The Urban Dictionary defines Seedbombing as:

when an individual or group who throws, shoots, or slingshots pellets of dirt filled with seeds, often into empty or abandoned lots; usually part of an urban renewal project or event

Larry: Let’s throw an awesome event where we eat, drink, and mingle in between seedbombing expeditions around the neighborhood!

Jim: Cool! Let’s go buy some seed pellets and slingshots!

Previously on Poor Impulse Control:

We dismantled Dad’s kitchen and I ended up with a bigass container of dried black beans; by bigass, I mean a 7-quart Sysco restaurant container, and by beans, I mean of indeterminate age and/or magical power. For many long months, I stared at this container and waited for inspiration, which means breath of the gods and there’s just not enough Gas-Ex, thank you. One day, a plan came to me. Pete laughed out loud, uncertain I’d do it. Two nights ago, we filled a quart bag with beans and went for a walk. The plan:

1. On a rainy night, fling beans near chain link fences everywhere.
2. Wait.
3. Watch out for falling giants.

The possible results:
1. Planting.
2. Composting.
3. Feeding outdoor critters.

We enjoyed furtively peppering lawns, alleys, empty planters and scrubby gardens with prospective beanstalks, which process became more entertaining the closer we walked to the center of town and spectators. No one asked us what we were doing. No one said, “You’ve literally beaned me.” No. People watched as Pete and I walked by and I exhorted our little legumes to grow toward the sun, be free, be free! This public art project memorializing my father is called the Beany Benediction.

No cows will be harmed in the making of it.

Not to mention this and this and that. Essentially, seedbombing is one of my favorite things and recently, a thing happened.

Ammo, art supplies or weapon of vengeance, but also seeds.

Ammo, art supplies or weapon of vengeance, but also seeds.

Two of my dear friends are retiring, packing up and moving out. They offered me their seeds. I was kind of heartbroken for them, being without a garden for the year or two in which they assemble their new life, but they are joyful. My friends brought me four approximately shoebox-size containers filled with carefully alphabetized and labeled seed envelopes. I started feeling like I’d taken decongestants in a room full of black light posters.

Last Saturday, I sat down with the boxes and discovered my friends had brought me a problem and a solution. More than half of the envelopes were dated three years or older. Once I’d pulled out envelopes for 2011 or earlier and poured the outdated seeds into five pint containers, the project of plantable seeds looked much more manageable.

Yesterday would have been my dad’s 74th birthday and, over the weekend, my youngest sister Dara had her first child, a little boy. For the past three days, I’ve been flinging seeds everywhere while I waited for someone to stop me or say anything at all. No one does.

Everyone fears a random giant.

That Flash At the Sound Of Lies

Continuing in Poor Impulse Control’s catalog of stuff you shouldn’t throw away so someone can sell it back to you: corn stock.

Buying local corn from the farmers market makes for fantastic summer meals, supports local farmers and the cobs can humidify your house as they turn into corn stock to fortify your soups. What seemed like an indulgence is actually thrifty and super smart. Our house smells fantastic, if I do say so myself and about which I cannot stop yapping.

Promote the General Welfare And Secure the Blessings Of

I’ve been standing around with my hands stuffed in tighter and tighter pockets, waiting for my lungs to feel less furry after that bizarre plague while all around me spring is springing. The thought occurs: Hey, Princess, remember that time you blogged the Constitution? No? Well, maybe you should. Also: where’d you hide the remote?

So. In the fall of 2006, right before the site I was storing Poor Impulse Control’s images on went kerflooey, we undertook this undertaking, intended to enhance understanding.

Bill of Rights
Part 1, including yogurt
Part 2, including NyQuil
Part 3, now with less snot!
Part 4, and yodeling
Part 5, extra cringy

The Meaty Stuff
Part 1, hot and cold
Part 2, a painful history
Part 3, bubbles that scrub
Part 4, plus shape-shifting
Part 5, shiftless
Part 6, including Johnny
Part 7, perilous produce
Part 8, including Fifi
Part 9, with mood lighting
Part 10, costume drama
Part 11, with feelin’

Back to the beginning
Part 1, autumnal
Part 2, an IQ test
Part 3, hairdo and don’t
Part 4, cattle
Part 5, togetherness
Part 6, voterosity
Part 7, cat bath
Part 8, a pricy prize
Part 9, spiral
Part 10, cucumber
Part 11, organ music
Part 12, crackpottery
Part 13, most papery
Part 14, compulsion
Part 15, listy
Part 16, clam bar confab
Part 17, starboard
Part 18, Oscar

Omigod, it’s a miracle my laptop didn’t sustain friction burns!

The Toy And All It Meant

Previously on Poor Impulse Control, we pondered a tasty puzzle. An acquaintance must eschew the following:

Alcohol
High Fructose Corn Syrup
Garlic
Paprika
Nuts
Soy
Grains
Coffee

If you’re just joining us, we’ve been noshing.
Intro
Breakfast
Snacks and facts

Ta darling, you say, That’s all well and good, but it’s midday and my lunchbox is filled with no sandwich. Quite right. How do you feel about soup? Plenty of charming people now bring prepared foods to work for lunch and almost nobody discusses their moral torpor – anymore. In our case, a careful reading of the ingredient list is very important since garlic, flour and HFCS will turn up in unexpected places. No ingredient on our list should find its way into a decent New England clam chowder, but it will if someone in R&D took the moronic step of thickening chowder with a roux. So: read. Really.

Making your own soup couldn’t be easier and it will make lunch less like spinning a carnival wheel where hives are the big prize. Got a slow cooker? Good. You are about to develop a new habit: when you cut up vegetables, throw carrot tops, celery ends, onion bits, fennel leaves and so forth into a 1 gallon Ziploc bag and drop that in the freezer. When the bag is full, empty the contents into your slow cooker, add peppercorns, bay leaves, star anise, annatto and celery seeds, a little salt and pepper. Got a chicken neck or feet or a smoked turkey neck? They would add nice flavor and they’re super cheap. Turn this on low and come back in 24 hours. Strain. Taste it. You could season it with stuff you already like in your fridge. If you tell people you make your own stock once a week they will think your are both crazy and curiously virtuous. Don’t tell them all you have to do is plug in the CrockPot.

Roasted Anything Vegetable Soup

(Insert your favorite vegetable here)
1 medium onion, diced
2 carrots, diced
butter or olive oil
stock
salt and pepper
your favorite herbs

Prepare your favorite vegetable to roast. For instance, halve and clean a butternut or acorn squash. Save the seeds. Or peel sweet potatoes or regular potatoes or eggplant. Or halve tomatoes. What do you like? Roast that in a 400 degree oven until it’s fork tender. Set aside. When cool, cut into small chunks.

In a soup pot, melt butter or heat olive oil. Sweat onion and carrots until onions are clear and sweet and carrots have softened. Add your roasted heart’s desire and mash to combine. Add in stock, maybe a quart or two. Simmer for 15-20 minutes, add salt and pepper. If you want to puree, you can use an immersion blender or a regular blender, if you cover the lid with a towel and pulse carefully.

Serve with a scoop of plain yogurt and a dusting of your favorite herbs. Squash seeds, toasted at 350 degrees until they smell delicious, make a great snack sprinkled with salt.

How do you feel about beef stew? Pot roast? Chicken soup? Tuna salad? Chicken salad? Ham salad with melon? Chef salad? Turkey stew? Sashimi? They can be prepared without the use of our off-limits ingredients. If I, in all my hypothetical allergic glory, were to order any of these items in a restaurant or cafeteria, I would demand the assurance of the cook that I was not about to poison myself. Is that assurance enough? Probably not. I’d personally threaten to haunt the chef that lied and treated me to anaphylactic shock. Haunt them with knives. Yep. But you may be a nice person. If you prepare your own food, you stand an even better chance of both surviving and enjoying lunch.

Of Ice To Reach Your Soil

Previously on Poor Impulse Control, we took on the thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle that is our acquaintance’s Allergies Kick My Ass challenge.

Intro
Breakfast

In comments, Miep noted:

Corn is a grain and paprika is a nightshade.

That list of off-limit substances practically describes my diet. Well, except for HFCS. Are there really people who are allergic to garlic? How tragic.

Miep has just met us and doesn’t know yet that I’ve been outwitted by yogurt but I’m seldom unarmed, Georg can do anything unless someone sprays perfume, Siobhan is allergic to wheat and run on sentences and at least one of our lurking readers lives where his eyelids can freeze open, so details matter. Our off-limits list contains foods that turned itchy our acquaintance’s skin; he may or may not be allergic to these foods. He told me years ago he was allergic to alcohol, so we’ll take that for given. Sometimes an itchy spot on a patch test doesn’t mean an actual allergy. Corn turned my epidermis a brilliant vermillion, but I’m not allergic. I crave corn. My kitchen currently contains six different corn flours, all of which look nervous when I feel peckish. Your results may vary, but I am making tamales Tuesday night.

No, I have little idea why HFCS is on the list unless it’s that corn thing. Neither do I have a clue why paprika and why not peppers. Our acquaintance’s wife, who is a genius, has mentioned he is eating potatoes; we may conclude nightshades are not a problem. We also do not know why someone would have difficulty with garlic and not onions, but my mother and daughter have difficulty with onions, not garlic, and who the hell knows? Let’s just work with the list, shall we?

The Fair Georg:

I’d start with tapioca flour, taro, and arrowroot. Taro isn’t common unless you live in Hawaii, but you may live in an area that has enough SE Asian groceries. Think Thai and Polynesian recipes, though citrus makes them tricky. You can make meatloaf with ground meat and tapioca flour. Arrowroot can thicken any sauce as good as cornstarch.

the hardest part is avoiding corn – it’s in fecking everything.

Tapioca, taro, arrowroot and agar agar are all good thickeners. Taro is highly addicting. Eat taro chips and next thing you know you are standing in the snack aisle, growling at teenagers eying the Terra Originals. Maybe that’s just me. I came back from a vacation in Maui and experienced withdrawal symptoms and sloth. Fortunately, I like sloths. And it’s all about me.

We can avoid corn if we eschew prepared foods. The same is true for soy and garlic.

Let’s talk about mid-morning snacks.

Grapes
Carrot sticks and tahini
Celery with berbed cream cheese
Fennel with sliced ham
Tostones
Dried fruit
Plain yogurt with dried cherries
Veggie chips fried in safflower oil
Cherry or grape tomatoes
Fruit salad
Cottage cheese
A banana

Produce aisles are full of fantastic snacks. I don’t know why we’re even worried: if we happen to be at home when we need a snack, we throw fruit, yogurt, a frozen banana and some juice into a blender and set it on Stun. Yes, this diet might be the best thing that could happen to your entire self.