A conversation at breakfast

**Iris:** When I’m big I’m going to drive a big tractor. And I’ll have metal cows at my house.

**Me:** Metal cows?

**Iris:** You push a button on the back and they eat grass.

**Me:** Do they make milk?

**Iris:** Yes, you press a button on the udder and milk comes out into the container.

**Me:** Are these robot cows?

**Iris:** No, silly. They’re real pretend animals.

(later)

**Iris:** When I grow up, I want to be a lady.

**Me:** You will, but that’s not really a job, per se.

**Iris:** I’ll put on my suit and build my farm. Everything is going to be metal at my farm. The suit is going to be metal so I don’t blow away.

**Me:** What crops will you grow?

**Iris:** I’m going to grow ginger cookies with my wheat.

(pause)

**Iris:** Do ginger cookies come from wheat?

So, to sum up, when Iris is big she’s is going to wear a metal jumpsuit, eat cookies, drive a tractor, and milk robot cows. This sounds *awesome.* Except…

**Me:** Where is your farm going to be?

**Iris:** In Tukwila.

Jiffy lube

This week’s Culinate column is about fats again. Cue Homer Simpson noise.

[Chewing the fat, part II](http://www.culinate.com/read/bacon/Chewing+the+fat*2C+part+II)

I know what you’re thinking after reading these two columns. You’re thinking, “I have not heard Matthew drone on about fats and oils sufficiently.” Well, lucky you. This Saturday I’ll be on Tom Douglas’s Seattle Kitchen on KIRO 710 AM from 5pm to 5:30pm PDT, talking about that exact topic.

Bathe with Steve

Many times I’ve professed my love for Alice Medrich’s New Classic Brownies. I won’t embarrass myself by calling them the “world’s greatest brownies” or something, but they’re the only brownies I ever make. Now the New York Times loves them too, and they printed the recipe. They also printed a couple of other brownie recipes. If you try one and it’s better than New Classic Brownies, I don’t want to hear about it.

A conversation in the afternoon

Last night we took Iris to our favorite restaurant, [Dinette](http://www.dinetteseattle.com/). She was not very impressed. She liked the gnocchi with short rib sauce and the lemon tart. Laurie and I had a wonderful pasta, trofie with braised octopus, escarole, radicchio, and toasted breadcrumbs. I intend to make a home version minus the octopus.

Today I had this conversation with Iris.

> **Iris:** I didn’t like the octopus.

> **Me:** Why not?

> **Iris:** It was too sucky.

He loves these cans

How small a kitchen can you handle? Maybe smaller than you think. When we last moved, a year and a half ago, I went from a kitchen that held all of my cooking equipment to one that held less than half. The rest went to a shelving unit in the dining room (an IKEA Ivar, who you may already be on a first-name basis with).

Now, the dining room is not so far from the kitchen. It’s basically the same room. I don’t have to walk down a moldy corridor, just around the sink. In fact, what I should really do is perfect a trademark over-sink vault, but as I am not Mary Lou Retton, instead I’ve figured out how to migrate certain important items back into the kitchen.

Last December, I successfully reclaimed the sugar using some new Tupperware. Now I’m after the spices, and my tool of choice is Bed Bath and Beyond’s magnetic spice jars. They cost $2 and look like this.

Spice jars

That’s the side of the fridge. I bought two jars to see if I liked them, and this meant I had to decide what my two most valued spices were. (Incidentally, upon entering the store I also cursed myself for forgetting to bring one of those ubiquitous 20 percent off coupons, then realized it would save me 40 whole cents.) I chose cumin and was all set to put chili powder in the other jar, when I realized I was defining “spices” too narrowly.

It occurred to me that I use cornstarch, baking powder, and baking soda more often than any given spice, and these should really take the places of honor. I guess it’s a good thing these ingredients aren’t generally considered spices, because then they’d be sold in small quantities for $7, but they’re spices in the sense of “relatively nonperishable dry ingredients used in small quantities.”

I wonder how many of these I can stick on the fridge before they cause more problems than they solve.