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do do lee do do da do la do doot do

Can hardly contain my excitement! Got home from work last night (after a lovely evening with Gee-In (Jay and Ian Pellicci), Jay Man, and Boss Lady, Jr. I went in at 9 to relieve Junior, who, when asked what she was going to do with her evening off, tried to hide her chagrin at the reply: “Uh, hang out here… What? Do I have to be doing something special to want the night off?”) to find my Black-Eyed Peas and Barley covered in fuzzy white hairs! Well, one out of three of them, anyway. My makeshift incubator (the oven with a 100 watt lightbulb in it) was hot, 100 degrees hot, way too hot, so I stuck a wooden spoon in the door to keep the temperature down and went to bed with the highest hopes that the other two would cooperate.

Lo! and, Behold! I woke to sights and smells better than any Christmas morning! The nighttime had taken my beans and grains from me and left in their place the pungent, fresh, earthy delightful smell of fresh tempeh! I wish you could smell it… Sandor Katz is right to declare it not unlike the smell of babies. You know, that sour milk smell that breast-fed bundles get in their neck folds? Mmmmm…

It smells moldy, yes, and a bit yeasty… but it smells right. Not like the Quinoa, Buckwheat, & Millet I accidentally left in the rice cooker for 3 days… but that’s another story, and another, unidentified, and undesirable strain of mold, you see.

So, what am I going to do with my moldy joy? I’m a gonna stir-fry her up with some Red Russian Kale. And then I’m gonna take some over to the Eudaemonist and beg her to make me a cup of Camel Tou-cha or some other fermented, earthy tea to have with fresh Tempeh and a game of Scrabble.

It’s 11:11. Make a Wish.  Mine has already come true.