(no subject)

[muckefuck]

Lied to by weathermen again--imagine! Based on the assumption of external ickiness, monshu and I settled on a day of sitting about watching DVDs and eating comfort food. By the time I realised it was actually sunny and mild (not compared to the past week, but in light of the historical record) and lovely for a walk by the Lake, inertia had taken hold and here I stayed. Ó bhuel!

At least monshu got to see El espinazo del diablo (The devil's backbone) and I got to see 25th hour. Kind of a tough double-header, but we've got a lighter comedy in reserve for tonight. We've also got more cassoulet, this time atop fresh-baked buttermilk biscuits! (Slightly scorched though, because I'm apparently still a moron when it comes to operating the GWO's stove.)

Speaking of the buttermilk, I noticed that the McCann's can suggests putting it on their oatmeal, which I did. Not half bad. I still can't imagine drinking it straight as suggested by the following exchange in my TY Irish book:

"Tá na fir ag sábháil fhéir ó mhaidin agus tá tart agus ocras anois orthu." "The men have been saving hay since morning, and they are thirsty and hungry now."
"Tabhairt an bhláthach san le n-ól dóibh agus bainfidh sé an tart díobh." "Give them that buttermilk to drink and it will take their thirst away."

You bet it will! At the very least, it'll stop their complaining about it, for fear of being given more buttermilk to drink.

(Incidentally, the expression "saving hay" is another charming example of the light Hiberno-English of the translations. Sábháil literally means "save, rescue", but also "harvest [of crops]". In Ó Siadhail, a crotchety old man is depicted as yelling "Ná bí dána mar sin!" "Don't be bold like that!" at young whippersnappers, which baffled me a bit until I read elsewhere that in Irish English the meaning of "bold" is more "impudent, naughty" than "audacious, daring", cf. bold as brass.)

Comments

[cruiser.livejournal.com]

It's worth noting that until the potato shoved its way into Irish cuisine, buttermilk & oats was pretty much standard fare.

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I regularly remark when we have our porridge (enriched this morning--as is often the case--with toasted nuts, raisins, and heather honey) that we're having what would be a festival dish back on the Auld Sod.

[foodpoisoningsf.livejournal.com]

Conventional buttermilk is a mere shadow of the original. What's available commercially today is non-fat milk with cultures added- and more like watery yoghurt.

Butter was once made from cream that was allowed to culture- or sour- very slightly. Try making butter some time from organic cream. It's a revelation, as is the buttermilk.

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

As I don't really relish doing my own churning, are there any unconventional brands I might be able to find at my local gourmet shop?

[foodpoisoningsf.livejournal.com]

Drop that churn

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

Awesome! Now to find a ceramics class!

bold

[pne.livejournal.com]

Ah yes, that reminds me of seeing ailbhe use "bold" in relation to children, where I'd have expected "naughty" or something similar.

[richardthinks.livejournal.com]

I like "fond" for "daft" as well (don't be fond!).
"Bold" strikes me as "willful," which also hardly seems disparaging in the USA today. My Dutch teacher likes to point out that it's difficult for her undergrads to understand the difference between 'may I?' and 'can I?' - the whole idea of asking for permission seems alien to them.

[bunj.livejournal.com]

I drank buttermilk once in Sweden. I was told the locals did it all the time (which could have been a bit of chain-yanking, but they did have an amazing array of milks at the supermarket, apparently all for drinking). I couldn't even finish my glass. It was disgusting, and clung to the sides of the cup. Herring paste was fine, but the buttermilk was too much.

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

Oh, I think it's no joke. Mann includes a description of a family outing in Buddenbrooks where the father orders ahead to the Gaststätte to have buttermilk ready for everyone to drink when they come back from hiking. That passage immediately reminded me of your account of your adventures as a Schein-Pfadfinder in Sweden.