http://richsoil.com/cast-iron.jsp
Thanks for mentioning Sheryl Canter, @d_r.
http://sherylcanter.com/wordpress/2010/01/a-science-based-technique-for-seasoning-cast-iron/
We use cast iron a lot over here. It’s true sometimes bits of food will flake off during the drying process, but if unseasoned pan surface is peeping through, you may be in for one more round of seasoning the pan.
I did exactly that (six coats, extremely thin layers of flaxseed oil, at 550 degrees for one hour and then two hours of cooldown), and my pan still looks more like the one on the left than on the right. I’m thinking of getting a car battery charger and starting again using electrolysis to strip the pan back down to bare metal instead of the self-cleaning oven cycle; maybe there’s rust that is interfering.
Off to a funeral.
See also the victory thread…he was 97, lived a good life, and had a slew of loved ones who will miss him.
At my Chinese grandfather’s funeral, I saw several groups of people who looked similar to him, me, my sibs, or to my [Chinese] father. I nudged one of my cousins (in some parts of China, people are referred to in birth order and then by gender, so it was “second son” of my uncle–a “third son” himself) and I had to ask.
“Who are those people over there? I have never seen them before.”
2ndSonof3rdSon: “Oooh, those are children and grandchildren of second wife.”
“Second wife?”
“Yes, you know, concubine wife. Our grandmother is first wife.”
“Two wives… simultaneously?” (Crikey, whatta měiguó de rén I am. Hopeless case.)
Poorly suppressed eyerolling, possibly because I am nearly same age as 2ndSonof3rdSon… and how could I possibly be so poorly informed? “Yes. Concubine wife.” Said with face impassive, in a measured tone used to explain vaguely abstract concepts to two-year olds. Obvious demonstration of patience shows just how polite he is being to me, despite my glaringly rude questions and ignorance.
This gives you a tiny glimpse of just how functional and clear the lines of communication can be in a culture that AFAICT practically invented the “need to know basis” of disclosure. My dad, for reasons best known to himself (as they say in the UK), managed for 31 years to avoid mentioning* that I have 5 extra Chinese aunties and 2 extra uncles and their families in addition to a… a… half-grandmother? Step-grandmother? Whatever.
As you all might imagine, my grandfather’s two wives did not get along in the slightest. At the time (1920s-30s) and place (Shanghai in pre-Communist China) of grandfather’s arrangements with both women, it was considered a fairly normal for a rich guy to have a more than one wife. The more wives you had, the obviously richer and more successful you were. Two houses. Two big cars. Two families. Two sets of household staff (cooks, cleaners, bodyguards, chauffeurs, etc.). From all reports the two women hated each other.
I later found out some of the coolest members of our [extended] fam are those extra aunties! And their stories are amazing. Paging Ang Lee! Ang Lee!
So to say, I completely get it about finding family members, and often later than is optimal. Some of the stones rolled across oceans and some stayed put in China. The language barrier alone is a major obstacle. Far more is the silence. Most of my dad’s generation has passed or is passing to the Great Beyond, and few are willing to say anything at all about family history. War stories and concerns about old enemies? Losing face in judgmental Christian American culture? Pain? Anger? Sadness? Sparing the feelings of the clueless and frankly rather rude younger generations?
No idea. They seem content taking secrets to the grave with them. As the family black sheep (a title I retain only half-proudly) I just keep asking questions… hoping to transmit what I can learn to the younger generations in our fam coming up so rapidly behind me.
*Btw WTF izzit with some countries’ penchants for creating cultures featuring “cult of personality” but also its antithesis: “nonperson”-hood?
ETA: missing word… where’s my coffee, my cold-brewed Rutamaya medium roast? … kitchen? … front porch? where’s that RFID tagger I keep meaning to put on my coffee mugs?
***** not his real name
you sure? shit, I’m living a lie!
We just found out our favourite uncle on my Dad’s side passed away… in 2011.
No one told us. Because Dad left when I was three and we don’t talk to that side of the family much. But when my Mom died, I called them and they came to the funeral, and all the cousins have been invited to all the other cousins weddings… and of all them, this uncle was the nicest to us; my fathers children, because he was our uncle by marriage, and he married into it late, and could see how fucked up they all were, and how it was messed up and unfair to us. And no one told us he passed. My brother lives literally 20 minutes away, and has lived in the same house for 20 years, but no one called. I has a sad.
Guess I better set up a google alert for the old man then… cuz they won’t tell us when he goes either and we are going to contest the fuck out of that will.
Heading to work this morning, it was snowing.
But… mid may?
Yup. In Winnipeg.
I remember once we had a frost warning in early August.
I posted this in Negative ESP, but fuck it:
Today, my 2 year old son made a run for the front gate as I was checking whether I had everything before dropping him off at nursery. I ran to stop him and then found that my keys were not in my pocket. After dropping him off I text my wife to say that I was locked out and traveling to her school to borrow her keys. About 5 minutes later I got a phone call from my wife to tell me that she also forgot her keys. I tried our cleaner but she was working and wouldn’t be home until 4pm. My wife had closed all the windows after herself for the first time this year.
So I got a locksmith (and can confirm that the Israeli Locksmith Mafia Cory reported on a few months ago are also operating in London, although at least the price I paid was only about twice that quoted on the website) and a young man came around with a bag full of weird tools and we eventually got the door open (I insisted that it be non-destructive, which he probably thought was making life more difficult; but I knew that the cylinder of my door lock system was drill-resistant and getting in before 4pm wasn’t worth the cost and time of replacing it anyway).
And to think that I thought it was going to be a good day this morning because my son did a poo and a wee in his potty.
Ah! I see your problem, then. It’s in the 80s today down here in the ATL.
(Of course, come August, I’ll be crying for frost)
Oh that explains it.
We were a bit under dressed one summer when taking a road trip to Banff. Okay I get it is way up in the mountains but it was AUGUST man.
WTF. I’m waiting to board a plane for Winnipeg right now.
Also on topic, air travel dystopia: I had to get up at 4:00 am go the first leg of this flight, now the flight is behind schedule, and the people who are supposed to collect me there haven’t bothered to confirm that they’re coming to get me, and the airport wifi is one of those shitty free-for-half-an-hour-then-fuck-off-and-pay-$5/hour “services”.
On the subject of wifi, I was just at a tech conference where you couldn’t stay connected to the network for 15 minutes running.
Conference centres beware: if you think you can host a conference full of programmers with the wifi service you provide for dentists’ and ophthalmologists’ conferences, you are going to make a lot of people angry…
A few days ago it was very unseasonably HOT, +36C, birds bursting into flames in mid-air and all the rest.
True Story:
Me: Um, Aunt L, I was reading the family geneology books you wrote, and it says granddad was born about seven months after Pampa and Mimie got married.
Aunt L: <silence>
Me: So, um, I was thinking, uh -
Aunt L, brightly: did you know your grandfather was one of the founders of the world council of churches?
(Incidentally, he was a remarkable man, but as far as I can determine he was not in any sense a founder of the WCC. I think she was grasping at straws.)
Ahhhh ha ha ha ha ha. This is extremely familiar territory. Ouch!
Chinese version (also true):
Me: Did aya (Chinese for “grandfather”) ever have business with [certain questionable persons] during his time on the mainland?
Uncle: … [face totally impassive, breath rate steady, no betrayal of being seriously offended by me, his dopey mixed-race niece] …
Me: (after the long pause) I heard some stories about—
Uncle, brightly: —The spring is very beautiful this year. See, so many flowers. (pause) More tea? (picks up the porcelain teapot)
Culturally, Chinese men of Uncle’s generation never ever pick up the teapot if a woman is present or even in the same room. It is a woman’s duty to make, serve and pour tea. If Uncle is picking up the teapot, the subtext here is “I, your Uncle, am creating this bit of stage business which are you meant to construe as something I blatantly contrive to show you just how totally out of line you are with your prying and offensive words. I may also possibly be somewhat sorry that I will never tell you what you want to know, but here’s some tea in your cup as my way of making a nonverbal apology.”
(Grasping at straws takes many forms, cross-culturally.)
Oh wow… that is also endemic in high-WASP culture… even down to the tea. Amazeballs. O_O
Gaaaaah, really? I really am clueless then, in several cultures!
Amazeballs over here too then!
Amazeballs with soy sauce.
I’m starting to think its the tea. Tea makes people passive aggressive. 
