Bloody Well Write

I love food. More specifically, if I were a player on “Survivor,” I would love food, but as I’m just an average Jane doing my thing in this world and not having to eat bugs to survive, I love good food. One part of food — one of many, I dare say — which I love most is the language of it. Food in its presentation state isn’t just food; it’s much grander than that.

For example:

• Cow is not cow; it’s beef.
• Pig is not pig; it’s pork.
• Goose liver is not goose liver; it’s foie gras.
• Bull testicles are not bull testicles; they’re Rocky Mountain oysters.
• A pan full of everything but the kitchen sink is not a pan full of everything but the kitchen sink; it’s paella.

Granted, nothing in the above list would make it onto my pescetarian plate (not even seafood paella, as I’m relatively picky when it comes to seafood, as well). However, the point is the same: The language of food romanticizes what ends up plated in front of eager patrons.

One such subtle change in the language of cuisine that I’ve recently noticed has to do with beans. Yes, beans. Those plain-ol’, little, inexpensive peas, beans and lentils are also known as pulses. I think I heard the term a year or so ago (which could easily mean I heard it five or more years ago) but dismissed it as random terminology.

When it comes to pulses, it's what's inside that counts (photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/fragiletender/3664759157/)

Pulses are random no more. Not only is Wikipedia fully up on it, but pulses also made it onto the menu of the restaurant that just topped — for the second year in a row — the S. Pellegrino World’s 50 Best Restaurants list. That’s pretty impressive for a lowly seed and its brethren.

Pulses carry with them a bevy of benefits:

• High in protein
• High in fiber
• High essential amino acid content
• Virtually fat-free
• Affordable
• Versatile (pulses are either a mainstay or an accompaniment in nearly every world cuisine)

For me, though, the main emphasis of this post is to emphasize the use of the term “pulse” rather than the oh-so-2010 term “bean.” Since it seems to be incorporating itself into the lexicon a bit more frequently these, days, I’m thinking that making a three-pulse salad or American chili with pulses and Cherokee purples sounds much more palatable and in-the-know.

Et tu?

Happy trails!

SAK

Here’s something for you noncomputer geeks.

OK, maybe that’s an assumption. Maybe you’re knowledgeable in all things computer but don’t know this little gem. Or perhaps you barely know how to turn your PC on but know the exact meaning and spelling of this topic. Either way, you probably have run across this big boy at some point.

And I digress yet again. Here it is:

Captcha. Or more correctly, CAPTCHA.

What the … ?! Um-hmm. It’s a real word. Really, it’s a loose acronym for Competely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart (or so says Wikipedia).

It sounds like capture. It frustrates many an Internet scammer and frequent Web surfer alike. And it’s brilliant. So what is it?

Some CAPTCHAs are discernible, some not so much (photo: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a7/KCAPTCHA_with_crowded_symbols.gif)

It’s that box with the warped letters and numbers, the one that you’re supposed to look at and figure out what those twisted letters and numbers are and then type them into another box, with the hope that you’ve got them right. If so, you move on to the next screen, you pass go. If not, you try again or get blocked from further attempts.

Granted, there are a lot of technical details that go along with the CAPTCHA, but this isn’t the forum for those details. Just know that I learned something today and I hope that I have been able to share a little somethin’-somethin’ with a Bloody Well Write reader or two.

Now, go and try to decipher one of those suckers.

Happy trails!

SAK

First order of business: Please accept my sincere apologies for the hiatus. Unforeseen circumstances kept me away from my beloved Bloody Well Write. But I’m back! (Lesson learned: Be careful what you wish for.)

All kidding aside, on to the topic at hand: What the #%$* is a red herring? I came across this little tidbit via my husband. Of course, my memory being what it is, I can’t remember the exact circumstances, but let it be known that he was the one who gave me the idea for this entry.

I can admit when I don’t know something; I do it all the flippin’ time. And even though I had once known the definition, I hadn’t retained it well enough to say, “Oh yeah, I know what you mean, honey.” So what exactly is a red herring?

Its most organic definition, I suppose, is a fish. It’s a herring that’s been cured by a process of drying, salting and smoking; after the process is finished, the fish takes on a dark brownish color that some people might consider red — maybe because red is more festive. Who knows? But there you go.

Red herring

When my husband used the term, though, he meant a secondary definition: A red herring is something that deliberately diverts attention from the real issue at hand. Its origins are not 100 percent clear, but Wikipedia (good, ol’ Wikipedia) has this to say:

The term originates from an article written published 14 February, 1807 by journalist William Cobbett in the polemical Weekly Political Register. [4] In a critique of the English press, which had erroneously reported Napoleon’s defeat, Cobbett recounted that he had once use a red herring to deflect hounds in pursuit of a hare. In response to the press mistake, Cobbett declared, “It was a mere transitory effect of the political red-herring; for, on the Saturday, the scent became as cold as a stone.”

Red herrings can be found throughout mystery novels, as the bad guy or gal tries to throw the scent onto an unsuspecting passerby or perhaps the hero/heroine of the story. Pollyanna endings usually have the red herrings exposed for what they are — diversions — while the villain sulks off to jail. A bit of karma, of sorts, for trying to fool those who won’t be fooled.

Happy trails!

SAK