Stunned Silence

I suppose it is entirely possible that the last entry demoralized all of us so badly that we have sulked off into silent corners. Which, to be honest, is pretty much true ... 

But the final insult happened on Thursday, the one insult that could make me not lament the loss of The Eatery, the one that could let its demise come to be without a single protest.

It was Thursday, and there were no lemon bars. Not. A. One.

I suffered through the cherry pie which, to be fully honest, may have had a higher level of lemonicity than some of the lemon bars of the past.

Criminal, border line criminal.

An entertaining, mostly non-academic lunch with Acosta-Alzuru, Fink, Hollander and Hume (delayed by committee meeting, which is darn close to "delayed by death"). 

Lots of talk of apples. Preferred apples, heirloom apples, saving apples for later, the best age for apple trees and the heartbreak that an apple tree will put you through. (Fink, mostly, on that last one.)

Things we learned:

• Fink believes apple trees do best along treelines
  
• If a tree splits and the branches spike into the ground, they can root and continue to grow
  
• Apples are not grown in Venezuela, and all those imported are "red"
  
• Johnson prefers Empire apples, occasionally available at Publix now (which the author knew, being Johnson himself)
  
• Hollander ate some sort of small, sour green apples as a child (no comments, please)
  

Lemon bar update: I failed to comment on last week's lemon bar which was, perhaps, the finest lemon bar I have ever consumed at the faculty center. It had a nice, sponge-cake like consistency with wafting overtones of lemonicity. Far superior to the gelatinous creations we consumed last semester.

This weeks again had a decent consistency, though perhaps slightly more dense than last weeks, but had hidden pockets of lemon situated quite far from the edges. Some discussion on how they managed to center the lemonicity in a bar cut from a pan. 

Lemon: a new twist

Lemonocity takes a new twist: not lemon bars, but lemon on broccoli.

Lunch today with Russell, discussing home sales and tap dancing (though not at the same time ... but it's an idea!), got the lemon-sprinkled broccoli and a sausage-over-rice dish with a few onions and peppers tossed in for taste and color.

Skip 'em both.

The broccoli was pale because of the lemon, or the supposed lemon. Another Zen moment, but oddly not so Zen. The veggie tasted curiously fishy. That's the best way to describe it, that it tasted somehow fishy rather than lemony. Either that's what TFC was going for or somehow they dropped the broccoli in a fish tank and were able to get it out in time for cooking.

The sausage thing was okay. Tad greasy and bland, even with hot sauce, but edible.

Important Note: The post before this (below) was the 100th on the infamous Lunch At The Faculty Center blog. That's somehow important, I just haven't quite figured out how or why it's important. There should have been multimedia. Should have been fireworks. Ah well.

A New Level of Lemonicity

My plan was to avoid campus this week. Which was going fine, until I remembered I had to help set up the GSPA photo students on Monday. And then I had to go in to get something out of my cage for another faculty member ...

But that's not what I'm going to write about. When I returned home for lunch on Monday, my wife's newest bestest friend was here, delivering ... lemon bars. 

And not just any lemon bars, but vegan lemon bars. I was concerned, for a moment, but it all passed with just once sniff.

There was obviously a high level of lemon in these bars, though I have to admit the top level looked more gelatinous than any other lemon bar I'd seen of late. (Surprising, really, since there would be no gelatin in a vegan lemon bar.)

The taste was heavenly. A citric assault on the senses. The crust was crusty, a crunchy under-layer of support rarely experienced. 

I ate two. If we are blessed with them again, I will not share.

Analyze This

Checking the stats for our page, we find someone Googled "where do lemon bars come from" and ended up here.

To whomever that was, here's our response: Not from lemons.

Lemon Bar Meets Lemon

While Hollander may have thought, and Russell may have wished, that we were done with lemon bar reporting for the semester, Friday brought one last opportunity to explore and expound upon lemonocity.

And so, an experiment - to bring the lemon bar into contact with a real lemon ...




So perhaps my final lemon bar review: For all its lemon intentions, and even with the addition of actual lemon juice, Friday's bar fell short because of its lack of bar-ness. It was more gelatinous than bar-like, with a consistency similar to over-thickened lemon-like pudding.

A sad way to wrap up a season of lemon bar.

Secrets

The secret to lemon bar happiness is the absence of lemonyness leading up to it.

Two Lunches in One Post !

Thursday

Dr. A joins us for a delicious lunch. I think we need a blog posting in the form of a telenovela. Hunky dumb guy. Beautiful but twisted girl. The woman who is truly evil. Carolina can arch her eyebrow perfectly, so she gets the role of her choice. I'm sure there are a bunch of characters I'm missing, mainly because I don't speak a word of Spanish.

I had the required lemon bar. You taste lemon on the first bite, I've discovered, but not after. I suppose the bar's lemonness is only in contrast to a complete lack of lemonness before that first bite. Also on the scene were Hume, Russell, and Fink, none of whom had lemon bars, thus they cannot speak to lemonness.

Friday

Hollifield, Hume, Hollander, and Fink (who must now change his name to Hink if he's gonna eat with the H's.). Meat loaf good but not as good as I hoped. Greens bland, even after pepper vinegar. Mashed potatoes professionally mashed and lumpless.

Much discussion of pets, including the dietary and excretory habits of Hollifield's dog. Certain jealousy of said animal concerning duck for dinner, or even kangaroo.