I am experimenting with an egg substitute, called flax gel. The recipe is as follows:
1 Tb ground flaxmeal
1/4 cup water.
Stir, then put into the microwave until bubbling. Allow to cool.
The results really do make a gel-like substance, although I'd let it bubble a bit - don't just yank it out at the first sign of an eruption. Thus far, I have field tested this on cookies (slightly crumbly but good) and salmon croquettes (a valiant effort that eventually dissolved into salmon mousse). My thoughts are that this gel is certainly better and more comfortingly recognizable than Ener-G's Egg Replacer, which is an unsatisfying replacement, but functional. And while I'll happily bake with this stuff, I think I won't deep fry with it.
Once again, the children are forcing me to eat healthily, damn them. Hmm. Not too many gastronomic sins that I can commit while I'm still nursing the babes, I suppose. Although I could sneak out and get shitfaced. That'd take what, two? three drinks? Sounds like a short project with a long aftermath - hardly worth it.
Odd thought: I know that beer is off limits, but I wonder about whiskey?
In other news, the babes is finally, truly walking. This has been a process that I've watched, amusedly, since he was ten months of age, when he took a couple of steps, leaned over and fell on his face. Looking offended, he decided not to do it again. But over the past couple of months he's been competently walking while holding on to a lone adult finger. Finally, he's admitting his own competency and taking one, two even three steps at a time before thoughtfully dropping back to all fours.
Any day now, the delighted and adorable toddler waddle!
P.S. in case you are wondering, no, I'm not mad - I have conjunctivitis! I'm trying to think of this as a character building experience, in which I walk in the Mater's shoes. The Mater, for those who don't know, has one brown eye and one green. Her baby photos have those eyes thoughtfully tinted blue, by a photographer who felt that, all things considered, the situation was a bit indecisive.
But bicolored eyes is not quite the same as one normal brown eye and one furiously red eye. That's just bizarre. People stare on the street. People studiously look away. And damn, but it itches! And the friggin (mutter mutter mutter) ointment gums my lashes together and feels oooh so odd.
Character. Building character. A bit coals to Newcastle, but (focus woman, focus) building character. Hmm. Any more character and I might even start talking politics again. Or adamantly refuse to talk politics.
and now for something completely different: hate mail. Yup. Sent to my editor, two letters thus far and counting.. I almost feel flattered.