This morning I decided not to make more bread because, with the much-reduced number of people we had on the island, there was some sourdough left from Monday night.
The morning brought more rain, which, though only light showers, kept things dreary. The pattern is supposed to continue at least through Saturday.
I did some crafting projects in the morning, working on woven bracelets in between writing and doing small chores around the dorm.
My braid had stayed mostly in place overnight and I still loved it, though it was starting to be a bit unruly.
Mark brought a pallet for the oven project I’ve been wanting to get started on, which meant I wouldn’t need to pick a specific building site or make a particularly heavy foundation, because the oven could be moved from place to place with the tractor when we wanted to fire it or to put it away for the winter. This new development also eliminated the need for a roof or other shelter for the dome because it could be stored in the cow barn or under the porch.
One of Mark’s projects for the morning was bracing the kitchen table, which had become rather loose, because after 25 years he was tired of having his coffee spill when he or anyone else sat down.
We all agreed; it seemed that in order to rock the boat quite noticeably one needed to make only a very small motion.
The endeavor was a success- the table now holds its shape even when you sit on the bench and swing your hips with considerable force.
When Mark had finished vacuuming his workspace under the table, I used the shop-vac to clean the space under the oven, which had been badly in need of attention.
Elisabeth had been scheduled to sous chef, but considering she was allergic to every dish I had planned for the menu and this was the last day before a shopping trip (preventing me from shuffling days in the weekly menu), it seemed that it would be a bad idea to have her in the kitchen around peanuts, peas, coconut, and soy.
Christine bravely stepped in, despite having been in the kitchen for much of the weekend: a brave and steadfast soul.
She made coconut macaroons, some with almonds and chocolate chips (more allergens for Elisabeth, but absolutely delectable with a flavor similar to that of almond joy).
Meanwhile I prepared a marinade for the chicken and tofu and blended the peanut sauce for the noodles.
Christine made a triple-batch of naan dough while I cut tofu and bell peppers and started kitchen cleanup, and she washed dishes while I cooked naan on the griddle and the chicken baked in the oven.
I realized once the water was already boiling for the noodles that each of the 30 servings in the package was individually bundled with lovely ribbons, which proved difficult to remove. Getting the pasta to cook evenly was therefore tricky, as I frantically ripped ribbons from bundles and tossed the noodles into the water.
Dinner was a quiet affair, with only 13 people gathered at the table.
The amount of pasta I cooked, then, turned out to be reminiscent of what Janet and I refer to as the risotto incident from last year. We used all of the Tupperware to store leftovers and still had to compost some of the noodles.
Cooking for 22 is very, very different from cooking for 13, and sudden transitions require lots of extra thought, it turns out.
When the dishes were cleared, we played a game that I have always called sweaty manos, but which Haley referred to as slaps.
Deciding we needed an activity, plans for a walk to the north end to see the blooming fireweed were made but quickly disintegrated.
Lacking anything else to funnel our energy into, we marched onward with the prank war.
Sara went to bed on the early side and found a herring gull decoy in her sleeping bag
as the rest of us remained in the kitchen playing a new game along the lines of scattergories.
About 20 minutes later we heard shrieks and she emerged with a plastic bag containing water and live crabs. “THERE ARE CRABS IN MY BED!”
She decided Jesse must have been the culprit and put the creatures into his sparrow toolkit.
Nobody seems to know if he is really to blame, but time will tell…
The morning brought more rain, which, though only light showers, kept things dreary. The pattern is supposed to continue at least through Saturday.
I did some crafting projects in the morning, working on woven bracelets in between writing and doing small chores around the dorm.
My braid had stayed mostly in place overnight and I still loved it, though it was starting to be a bit unruly.
Mark brought a pallet for the oven project I’ve been wanting to get started on, which meant I wouldn’t need to pick a specific building site or make a particularly heavy foundation, because the oven could be moved from place to place with the tractor when we wanted to fire it or to put it away for the winter. This new development also eliminated the need for a roof or other shelter for the dome because it could be stored in the cow barn or under the porch.
One of Mark’s projects for the morning was bracing the kitchen table, which had become rather loose, because after 25 years he was tired of having his coffee spill when he or anyone else sat down.
We all agreed; it seemed that in order to rock the boat quite noticeably one needed to make only a very small motion.
The endeavor was a success- the table now holds its shape even when you sit on the bench and swing your hips with considerable force.
When Mark had finished vacuuming his workspace under the table, I used the shop-vac to clean the space under the oven, which had been badly in need of attention.
Elisabeth had been scheduled to sous chef, but considering she was allergic to every dish I had planned for the menu and this was the last day before a shopping trip (preventing me from shuffling days in the weekly menu), it seemed that it would be a bad idea to have her in the kitchen around peanuts, peas, coconut, and soy.
Christine bravely stepped in, despite having been in the kitchen for much of the weekend: a brave and steadfast soul.
She made coconut macaroons, some with almonds and chocolate chips (more allergens for Elisabeth, but absolutely delectable with a flavor similar to that of almond joy).
Meanwhile I prepared a marinade for the chicken and tofu and blended the peanut sauce for the noodles.
Christine made a triple-batch of naan dough while I cut tofu and bell peppers and started kitchen cleanup, and she washed dishes while I cooked naan on the griddle and the chicken baked in the oven.
I realized once the water was already boiling for the noodles that each of the 30 servings in the package was individually bundled with lovely ribbons, which proved difficult to remove. Getting the pasta to cook evenly was therefore tricky, as I frantically ripped ribbons from bundles and tossed the noodles into the water.
Dinner was a quiet affair, with only 13 people gathered at the table.
The amount of pasta I cooked, then, turned out to be reminiscent of what Janet and I refer to as the risotto incident from last year. We used all of the Tupperware to store leftovers and still had to compost some of the noodles.
Cooking for 22 is very, very different from cooking for 13, and sudden transitions require lots of extra thought, it turns out.
When the dishes were cleared, we played a game that I have always called sweaty manos, but which Haley referred to as slaps.
Deciding we needed an activity, plans for a walk to the north end to see the blooming fireweed were made but quickly disintegrated.
Lacking anything else to funnel our energy into, we marched onward with the prank war.
Sara went to bed on the early side and found a herring gull decoy in her sleeping bag
as the rest of us remained in the kitchen playing a new game along the lines of scattergories.
About 20 minutes later we heard shrieks and she emerged with a plastic bag containing water and live crabs. “THERE ARE CRABS IN MY BED!”
She decided Jesse must have been the culprit and put the creatures into his sparrow toolkit.
Nobody seems to know if he is really to blame, but time will tell…
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