( Wherein I meander on the backstory )
Last night, I set out to make homemade coconut-date rolls. I had no clue what variety of dates are generally used in them--I figured not Medjool, as I think those are the creme de la creme and more likely to be sold whole than processed--so settled on 14 oz. of Neglet Noor dates from Whole Foods, since I found them on-sale. They were already pitted, but I went ahead and split every single one of them in half to clean out any potential pit shrapnel left behind, and wound up mostly picking what appeared to be fibrous pit sheaths out of some of them instead.
All that went into my food processor, which I pushed 'on' and let run for a while until the dates turned into a solid ball of sticky dough-like consistency.
I turned the ball out onto a piece of waxed paper (hey, where did that come from? Good thing I thought to keep some on hand!) over a large cutting board and found a pair of latex gloves for my hands--lightly oiled with cooking spray, to help deter sticking. Not that it really helped after a while, hee. I then measured the date puree out in slightly rounded tablespoons--I got about 15 out of it. I then shaped each of them into a short, fat log, like the ones I get at the store, and rolled them in some finely shredded unsweetened coconut, before packing them in a re-used clamshell, sprinkling additional coconut between the layers and on the top.
I had one this morning, and not only did I not die, but they tasted pretty similar to the store-bought ones before. Two weeks of pre-swimming break fast fuel, and only 45 minutes of work. Not too bad. :)
All hail buyer reward programs.
I've been feeling a bit (okay, quite a bit of) financial pinch recently. Moreso than usual. In trying to maintain the lifestyle to which I've grown accustomed (hockey, swimming, having a working car), it means shaving off other areas--mostly the one-time expenditures of Stuff. Somewhat Necessary Stuff, but Stuff nonetheless.
Three times in the last few weeks, I've broken down to buy Stuff I wanted to buy, but only by exploiting buyer reward programs to the fullest Nth degree to take as much of the sting out of it as possible: 65% off on the low end of things, 96% on the high.
That makes me pretty happy. And so I post about it.
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cyranocyrano's LJ, because it's too perfect)Hello there, ladies and gentlemen
Update to getting the band back together:
The housemate decided, of the moment, to get people together for the long-promoted but never attempted and inaccurately named Endless Setlist on Rock Band. Our line up was
tersa, harleymae, cyranocyrano, zdashamber, and motleypolitico, and we kicked things off around eleven. Most of the proceedings were simply endurance--we crunched through the earlier, easy, songs with an almost callous indifference, but the fans were just thrilled to see Gone Plaid back together again. They bought a crapload of t-shirts. We breezed through the bugaboo of Green Grass and High Tides, and our goal was in sight--the 58th and final song was "Won't Get Fooled Again" and with it the accolades of our peers and industry.Alas, tragedy struck on song 57. (Musicians call it "The Heinz Curse".) The hand controller for the microphone, the one piece not in use, the one piece whose batteries did not get swapped out for fresh, died half way through Run to the Hills. And for a split second, the menu screen popped up to inform us that it had lost connection and we should press (X) if we wanted to return to the main menu. Of course, at that point, all of us were furiously pressing (X) as we tried to keep up. And before we knew it, or had any understanding why, we'd been booted out of the game. The fans, as we, were stunned into silence. Most of them filed out of the auditorium, crushed. Those who remained, we played an encore, but our hearts obviously weren't in it.
VH1 says that if we do it again and promise to succeed, they'll do a "Behind the Music" special on our triumphant rise from the ashes.
Digging around a little, I remembered and expanded on the vague knowledge I had about my former classmate--he was the NATIONAL TEAM COACH for the Cayman Islands until a few years ago, when he MOVED TO AUSTRALIA and is now the head coach at a swim school down there.
And he's friends with Neil Walker, an Olympic medalist and former world record holder.
My little brain has exploded.
(*) - Given that we had an 8th grade graduating class of 19, this isn't just 'some guy in my grade'. I had every class with him for 3-4 years.
( Clickie for de image )
They're still not Starbucks' muffins, but they do not suck.
I need to get up and go take a shower (mostly to finish de-chlorinating my hair), but will to move is low.