The Night Owl Report

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I was huddled in my bed feeling like an idiot, which is not unusual.  The day after I posted my triumphant cry that Spring had sprung upon San Francisco,  a storm front blew in, the skies opened and it’s been cold and rainy ever since.  True, that is spring weather, but it wasn’t the spring weather I had been so very smug about.

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I really don’t have any relevant pictures for my adventures in Kitchenland, so I’m just going with muscly youth.  I can’t imagine anyone complaining.

As usual, when I’m not happy, I got up to go eat.  Something.  Anything.  I remembered that I had roasted a bunch of baby carrots just because I wanted some roast carrots and there were still quite a few left.  As the carrots were whirling around in the mircrowave, I also decided I would make custard.  My cooking decisions are almost always based on “What do I have and what can I do with it?”  In this case, eggs, half & half, sugar, vanilla and salt pointed towards custard.  The fact that I was longing for some sweet blandness didn’t hurt.

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Nothing is easier to cook than custard.  The most technical part is breaking an egg.  If you can do that, the rest is just measure and stir.  It is in the oven right now, in its bain marie, which is a fancy name for a pan half full of hot water, almost finished.

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While it was baking, the carrots were ready, but I realized I wanted some carbs with it.  Bread, tortillas, left over scones, I wasn’t being picky.  I had just bought a loaf of this wonderful cinnamon bread I love.   Sort of sweet and rich, it’s very similar to challah.  Its only downside is that it comes as a whole loaf, unsliced.  Instead of just slicing off the end  bit and calling it a day, I decided to slice the entire thing to make giving into temptation in the future just that much easier.

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Amazing how very tasty the carrots and the cinnamon bread were together.  An unplanned triumph.  A serendipitous snack, and isn’t that really the best kind.

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The timer for the custard just went off.  I know you’re supposed to test if they’re done enough with a silver blade stuck in the middle to see if it comes out clean.   But I have no silver blades.  Get real, this is not Downton Abbey.  Silver is terrible metal for knife blades,   It’s soft and so it dulls faster than you can eat.  I just gently shake the pan to see how much the custard quivers.  You want it past the jiggly stage, but not firm, because it will continue to cook as it cools.

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OK, so, carrots, heated and eaten, bread sliced and also eaten, combination: a radiant stroke of genius, the kitchen cleaned, the custard cooling and just quivery enough.

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I realize all this kitchen madness is not terribly worth a post, it’s just that all of it took place between 3:00 AM and 3:45 AM.  It is pitch black outside, no one else is stirring, even the raccoons have gone to bed, but here I am at my peak.  This is when I am the most energetic (not saying much) and clear headed.  Some people are made for the night and that’s me.

It wasn’t until I retired and the shackles of employment released me that I found out I am an owl.  All those years waking up to go to work just when I was most ready to doze off, how wrong they all were.

I’ll go take my meds and get in bed; not to go to sleep, but because that’s my favorite place to read.  So I’ll be reading and struggling with the cat over who gets the best bed position, a fight I lose every night, and along about dawn, I’ll doze off.

It’s a perfect world.  At last.

All these lovely specimen are courtesy of the stunningly well curated blog    For the Love of NudeMuscleMen    I borrowed them without permission and I hope they do not mind my poaching because I really do think whoever is picking the art for the collection has an impeccable eye.

24 responses »

  1. Somehow, you’ve managed to mix together children of the night, Julia Child, Physique Pictorial, and the Dowager Duchess, all at the same time.

    I’ll have what you’re having.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Something about carrots and custard? I don’t know – I got distracted, sorry (I’ll be with you in a minute, #6!)

    btw, is there something wrong with #1’s “I’m a little teapot” arm, or is it just bad lighting (or bad photoshop)?

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  3. Just to reinforce IDV’s comment, you sure do make it difficult to stay focused on the story at hand. I counted 7, maybe 8 times that I said “Now what were you talking about? Oh yeah . . .” Carrot something and insomnia custard. I suspect there may be other forces at work keeping you awake at night. Pleasant dreams, mrpeenee.

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  4. I once spent an evening slaving away in the kitchen making custard from scratch and it was a huge success, it tasted just like the stuff you can buy in a tin. Number 4 does it for me, he could plunge his carrot in my custard pot anytime.

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  5. choice no.3. I seem to remember from long ago that penises could angle to the left or right (indeed, “Sir, what side do you dress on?” Humbled due to having a small one. “Um…to the left?” Which explains why there was always this baggy side to my trousers). However, curved cocks can just be what they are, but might indicate peyronie’s disease, heaven forbid. Am I total schmuck? (OK, well, yeah).

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    • No, I’ve heard of the same thing, but thats it’s rare and much more common for men dicks to just curve naturally. My favorite? One that curves down. So handy for sucking.

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  6. This is entirely unconnected to this post, but apparently the internet is still showing your blog on blogger three years’ hence. Maybe you moved because of that horseshit google tried to clamp down on ‘adult’ sites (and really fucked-up in the process) around that time.

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    • I cannot delete the blogger version of this. I did move because of bloggers bullshit and at the time tried to close down shop over there and it didn’t work. I’ve just sort of ignored it since then. Does it cause a problem?

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      • Not at all, sweetie. Just curious, because my own blog is no longer recognised after a year or so (my decision). Keep on truckin’, as Robert Crumb so eloquently portrayed it. Robert.

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