“The black rock was sharp-edged, hot, and hard as corundum; it seemed not merely alien but impervious to life. Yet on the southern face of almost every rock the lichens grew, yellow, rusty-brown, yellow-green, like patches of dirty paint daubed on the stone.”
Source: The Brave Cowboy: An Old Tale in a New Time
“Potter journal entry:
"It is odious to a shy person to be snubbed as conceited, especially when the shy person happened to be right, and under the temptation of sauciness.”
Source: Beatrix Potter and the Natural World
“It has been well established that trees talk to each other through underground chains of fungus called Common Mycorrhizal Networks (CMNs). Affectionately called the Wood Wide Web, these networks allow networks of trees to locally communicate and organize the transfer of water, carbon, nitrogen, local gossip, and political pamphlets. Previous research suggested that these fungal networks only operated at a community level. Nutrient-transfer-back translation has shown this assumption is no longer valid. In the woods of Germany, England, Wyoming, and many more locations, accelerationist, international communist propaganda has been discovered in Douglas Firs, and a growing prevalence has been seen in Birch populations. This paper will discuss the methodology, results, and dangerous consequences of the dictatorship of a central, democratically elected, tree-based anarcho-communist syndicate of Fir collectives in your backyard and how the international communist organization has spread its radical message to the world’s forests.”
Source: Et al: Because not all research deserves a Nobel Prize
“There have been so many questions, so few answers - and this feels exciting.”
Source: Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures
“Oxytocin. Dopamine. Nothing but chemicals. Quitting smoking was easier than quitting Dora Munoz.”
Source: Dreams from the Witch House: Female Voices of Lovecraftian Horror
“One day we strolled down the Philosopher's Path, which proved as enchanting as I had hoped in the fragrant pink bloom of spring. Since ancient times, the Japanese have heralded the arrival of the cherry blossoms because they symbolize the ephemeral beauty of life.
But it isn't just the three or four days of open flowers that stirs the senses. It is their arrival and departure. Looking at a bud about to burst open offers the pleasurable anticipation of rebirth, while the soft scattering of petals on the ground is often considered the most beautiful stage of all because it represents the death of the flowers.
Another day I took John to one of my tea kaiseki classes to watch the making of a traditional picnic to celebrate the arrival of the cherry blossoms. While he sat on a stool near my cooking station, Stephen and I cooked rice in water flavored with kelp, sake, and light soy, then packed it into a wooden mold shaped like a chrysanthemum. After tapping out the compact white flower, we decorated it with two salted cherry blossoms.
We wrapped chunks of salted Spanish mackerel in brined cherry leaves and steamed the packets until the fatty fish turned milky in parts. We also made cold seafood salad, pea custard, and chewy millet dumplings, which we grilled over a charcoal burner until brown and sticky enough to hold a coating of ivory Japanese poppy seeds.”
Source: Untangling My Chopsticks: A Culinary Sojourn in Kyoto
“While Mrs. Hisa steeped fresh fava beans in sugar syrup, Stephen dry-fried baby chartreuse peppers. I made a salad of crunchy green algae and meaty bonito fish cubes tossed with a bracing blend of soy and ginger juice. Mrs. Hisa created a tiny tumble of Japanese fiddleheads mixed with soy, rice vinegar, and salted baby fish.
For the horse mackerel sushi, Stephen skinned and boned several large sardine-like fillets and cut them into thick slices along the bias. I made the vinegared rice and then we all made the nigiri sushi. After forming the rice into triangles, we topped each one with a slice of bamboo grass, as if folding a flag.
Last, we made the wanmori, the heart of the tenshin. In the center of a black lacquer bowl we placed a succulent chunk of salmon trout and skinned kabocha pumpkin, both of which we had braised in an aromatic blend of dashi, sake, and sweet cooking wine. Then we slipped in two blanched snow peas and surrounded the ingredients with a bit of dashi, which we had seasoned with soy to attain the perfect whiskey color, then lightly salted to round out the flavor.
Using our teacher's finished tenshin as a model, we arranged most of the dishes on three polished black lacquer rectangles, first lightly spraying them with water to suggest spring rain. Then we actually sat down and ate the meal. To my surprise, the leaf-wrapped sushi, the silky charred peppers, candied fava beans, and slippery algae did taste cool and green.”
Source: Untangling My Chopsticks: A Culinary Sojourn in Kyoto
“You and I
“It should be filtered”, said she,
Every feeling that you wish to share with me,
“It should be just for me”, said she,
Every kiss and every sweet memory,
“It should always be near and never too far”, said she,
Every echo of your heart beat, that only beats for me,
“It should never end once it begins”, said she,
Every moment of romance between you and me,
“It should not conceal me”, said she,
Every shadow of your love, your veil of feelings that falls over me,
“It should brighten me to create a happy me”, said she,
Every breath of yours should only sing of me and confess about me,
“It should remind you how much I need you”, said she,
Every day, every night, every lifetime, it has to be just me, only me,
“It shall be so, my love!” , said I,
Every moment, every day, and always just you and I,
“It is a feeling I felt when I first realised how endless the sky is”, said I,
And ever since then I have longed to tell you, it is forever you and I,
“It is only then I like the stars and the beautiful blue sky”, said I,
Now every day, she holds my hand and we witness the endless beauty of the endless sky!”
Source: They Loved in 2075!
“I can tell right away by looking at you what you want to eat," he says. "I can tell how many brothers and sisters you have."
After divining my favorite color (blue) and my astrological sign (Aquarius), Nakamura pulls out an ivory stalk of takenoko, fresh young bamboo ubiquitous in Japan during the spring. "This came in this morning from Kagumi. It's so sweet that you can eat it raw." He peels off the outer layer, cuts a thin slice, and passes it across the counter.
First, he scores an inch-thick bamboo steak with a ferocious santoku blade. Then he sears it in a dry sauté pan until the flesh softens and the natural sugars form a dark crust on the surface. While the bamboo cooks, he places two sacks of shirako, cod milt, under the broiler. ("Milt," by the way, is a euphemism for sperm. Cod sperm is everywhere in Japan in the winter and early spring, and despite the challenges its name might create for some, it's one of the most delicious things you can eat.)
Nakamura brings it all together on a Meiji-era ceramic plate: caramelized bamboo brushed with soy, broiled cod milt topped with miso made from foraged mountain vegetables, and, for good measure, two lightly boiled fava beans. An edible postcard of spring. I take a bite, drop my chopsticks, and look up to find Nakamura staring right at me.
"See, I told you I know what you want to eat."
The rest of the dinner unfolds in a similar fashion: a little counter banter, a little product display, then back to transform my tastes and his ingredients into a cohesive unit. The hits keep coming: a staggering plate of sashimi filled with charbroiled tuna, surgically scored squid, thick circles of scallop, and tiny white shrimp blanketed in sea urchin: a lesson in the power of perfect product. A sparkling crab dashi topped with yuzu flowers: a meditation on the power of restraint. Warm mochi infused with cherry blossoms and topped with a crispy plank of broiled eel: a seasonal invention so delicious it defies explanation.”
Source: Rice, Noodle, Fish: Deep Travels Through Japan's Food Culture
“You're going to make the broth for the ramen with katsuobushi?"
"The chicken you used to make the broth for the ramen is a broiler, right? In that case, it's better to make it with katsuobushi."
"But the ramen's going to end up smelling like fish."
"Don't worry about it.
I mince some garlic, chives, shiitake mushrooms, and onion...
... and fry them together with ground pork in sesame oil.
Then I add some hatchō miso that's been mixed with sake...
... to make miso-flavored mince meat.
I pour the katsuobushi dashi onto the noodles. I've given the dashi a light soy sauce flavor.
Then I place the meat on top...
... and sprinkle a lot of chopped green onion on it...
... and you've got Oishinbo-style miso ramen!"
"Wow! It really does go well with the katsuobushi! It doesn't smell fishy at all!"
"The scents of the sesame oil, garlic and miso...
... complement the scent of the katsuobushi nicely!
Ramen broth is usually made from chicken and pork bones.
I never thought of using fish!”
Source: Ramen and Gyoza