Addendum to the previous post

Call it spin if you will Dear Reader. Or maybe I am just looking for a silver lining. A way to minimize the errors of my ways. I did follow the recipe for the halva. Just not correctly. OK. OK. It is spin.

Sad selfy-pitying story

Payday. Payday party. Not much of a party. Just a dessert. This month: halva. A Mediterranean semolina treat. Pretty easy to make. Especially when compared to what I have been making over the past few years. Really really really easy. En faît. (Don't know about that circumflex. Don't care much either). Indeed, so easy that this would be the first time things went wrong. I went to set out all the ingredients and saw that I was short of semolina. I walked up to the store and found that they only carried semolina flour in the bulk section. It was a finer grind than the Greek semolina I had. Oh well. Half semolina, half semolina flour. Things looked up when I was able to make an immediate bus connection home. Whew. Cream the butter and the sugar. Add the other ingredients. Pour into pans. Place in oven. Set timer. Life was good. After the 20 minutes baking time the halva was golden and...what? Not firm to the touch. For some reason I glanced again at the recipe. It would have probably helped had I added the eggs. Panic. Sweat. Audible profanities in an otherwise empty house. The dog didn't seem to mind. Nor the cat. I took the pans from the oven and scraped the contents into a bowl. Furiously I added the eggs. Furiously so they wouldn't cook in the hot crumbly mixture. Back into the pans. Back into the oven. Should I just start over. I'd have to soften more butter. Grind more nuts. Probably need to go back to the store for something. Lemons perhaps. No. I would just face the music. Let the chips fall as it were. It came out, twice-baked, no worse for the wear. I suppose. The syrup didn't absorb like the first (and only other) time I made halva. How many people have even had halva before? Who would know? Who would care? Now I wait for the appointed time. Should I keep it a secret or try to play it off as authentic twice-baked lemon-almond halva? Oh, and then, on my way here this morning I realized that when I added the eggs, I didn't add enough. One thing is certain, for June's payday party, halva will be served.

Dirty

Dilemma. I went to scour the reliable Smith Family Book Store yesterday. Looking for Bantam paperbacks. Not just any Bantam paperbacks, but Doc Savage paperbacks. My grandmother had given me a few when I was a kid and I have decided to start collecting them. Alas. It was not to be. But, I did find Beneath the Planet of the Apes and Battle for the Planet of the Apes. I had the Planet of the Apes books when I was a kid as well. I bought them. Of course I did. And Dear Reader, I cataloged them. Here is my dilemma. I want them to sit on the shelf next to each other. Easy enough. Right? Wrong. Different authors means different author numbers which means different call numbers. What to do? I found a call number for Pierre Boulle's original work Planet of the Apes and extended the cutter, including the extension for the translation from the original French, so that they will all rest neatly, obsessively, side by side in My Library (the official name). But you know Dear Reader, they are not correctly classed. And I know it as well. I feel so...

Making do

Some extra border stones. A landscaping stone left by the previous owners. Some dirt. Some pea gravel. A stepping stone. And a sophomoric inspiration. I still think I will get some cement to finish it off nicely. I think I have said enough.