One thing I can never find in the grocery store is lemon juice. I walk down every aisle, scanning top to bottom. (No, I don't ask anyone where it is! Duh! Do you think I want to look like a total moron?!)
The first aisle that makes sense is the pop aisle. Green plastic bottles...Sprite, lemon-lime...no...nothing here.
Could it be in the baking aisle? It seems like an ingredient-y thing. Not something you eat straight, obviously. Do you bake with lemon juice? I don't know. I can't remember a single thing you do with lemon juice. I don't even know why the hell it's on my list. All I know is that like 10 times recently I've thought, "Damn! I need to get some lemon juice! Lime is not even close to the same thing!"
For some reason I feel like I ought to see it next to the olive oil. Do people put it on salads sometimes? I stop and examine a nice brand of California extra virgin with a cool label. I figure out that I get it for half the price at Mr. G's. That's like the same unit price as the big Capatriti can, but American made so I know that it's actually olive oil. Sweet. But no lemon juice here. I remember. I used to put it in homemade mayonnaise. Not that I need it for that. Can't remember the last time I made that. But maybe it's with the salad dressing.
No? Seriously? That's like four aisles now. All there is left is the peanut butter aisle and then I'm basically in the freezer section! After that, dog food, toilet paper, pantyhose, cheap hot dog rolls, yogurt! Lemon juice is not going to be with any of those!
I'm starting to doubt. Come on, peanut butter aisle, don't let me down. Turns out there's a lot more stuff than Fluff in the peanut butter aisle that I never buy, like juice. Juice, okay, I think orange juice and that's refrigerated, near the milk. No this is like, just...juice. In plastic bottles, cranberry, grape, who knows...Ok, I'll admit it, I know about this kind of juice. I do buy it. I started buying it recently--but just at Mr. G's. I have never bought it at a regular grocery store. But next to the juice, on the top shelf, in a green bottle...is...lemon juice.
I mean, of course! Why wouldn't I thought of looking for it there?! It makes perfect sense! Who doesn't love a little glass with their afternoon snack? I'm sure someone puts it in their cheap decaf coffee. And don't tell me you haven't heard of PB&LJ sandwiches! Oh, you haven't? Neither have I. I made them up. Because like I said, I have no idea what I'm going to do with this stuff. But at least now I have it.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Hot Pads
I have a favorite hot pad.
I get annoyed when it is not where I expect it to be.
If there's another one on the counter, right next to the stove, I'll still go looking for this one.
What makes it so special?
It's a double-thick, tightly crocheted cotton hot pad, with weird self-striping yarn of yellow, pink, and turquoise. It must have been hand made but I don't remember where I got it from.
I like it because it's small. It's just the right size to leave draped over a cast-iron skillet handle without dragging in anything (although I don't have to do that now because my mother-in-law gave me some nice little pot handle sleeves for Christmas). It's about a span diagonally (see, if not for anthropic measurements, I would've had to go find a ruler instead of continuing my blog post. Take that metriphiles). Other pot holders are too big. The extra material gets in the way, like if you are pulling a tray of nachos out of the oven, the corner of a big hot pad would get all in the melted cheese, which is not good for the nachos OR the hot pad.
It's like too-big dish cloths, which are also annoying. But I digress.
I like it because it's a smooth yarn. I have another crocheted hot pad that's about the same size, and it's even a better color, objectively--although I have to say I don't really see the color anymore--blue, which matches my kitchen, but it's kind of loose, and fuzzy. It's unpleasant to touch, and feels like it's going to get little fibers in the food. Also like it's not going to protect me very well from the heat of whatever I'm holding.
My favorite hot pad now has a rip on one edge that is unraveling a little bit. It better cut that out right now or else there goes my sanity.
I get annoyed when it is not where I expect it to be.
If there's another one on the counter, right next to the stove, I'll still go looking for this one.
What makes it so special?
It's a double-thick, tightly crocheted cotton hot pad, with weird self-striping yarn of yellow, pink, and turquoise. It must have been hand made but I don't remember where I got it from.
I like it because it's small. It's just the right size to leave draped over a cast-iron skillet handle without dragging in anything (although I don't have to do that now because my mother-in-law gave me some nice little pot handle sleeves for Christmas). It's about a span diagonally (see, if not for anthropic measurements, I would've had to go find a ruler instead of continuing my blog post. Take that metriphiles). Other pot holders are too big. The extra material gets in the way, like if you are pulling a tray of nachos out of the oven, the corner of a big hot pad would get all in the melted cheese, which is not good for the nachos OR the hot pad.
It's like too-big dish cloths, which are also annoying. But I digress.
I like it because it's a smooth yarn. I have another crocheted hot pad that's about the same size, and it's even a better color, objectively--although I have to say I don't really see the color anymore--blue, which matches my kitchen, but it's kind of loose, and fuzzy. It's unpleasant to touch, and feels like it's going to get little fibers in the food. Also like it's not going to protect me very well from the heat of whatever I'm holding.
My favorite hot pad now has a rip on one edge that is unraveling a little bit. It better cut that out right now or else there goes my sanity.
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