Most questions answered, no. 2

More answers to the series of questions left at the "Huswifery" post from a few days ago...

The Return of the Pot Boy,
who has received the following question:

DAVID R. said... Dear Potty [sic] Boy--I wash my dishes in a sink and use the standard drying apparatus. Now, why is there always gunk accumulating in the bottom of the utensil drying bin though I just washed the pieces?

Note from Marly: As David R. is part of a lively group of fb-teasers, I hope he will not take it amiss that the Pot Boy teases him in return...

           Dear David R.,

Have you never darkened the door of a church, temple, lovely fane of columnar trees in the woods to learn about this matter of dust? Judging by your impertinent address to me, I fear not, and detect that the courtesy of the South has been (woe!) lost on you. Still, some wholesome truths may set you, if not right, then a little less askew--rumors of your shenanigans have reached even The Scullery. Dust thou art, man, and to dust thou wilt return! (Not singling out you in particular, mind, but still....)

The world is faintly silted over with this fine matter, dust, and even the water from your (possibly execrable--look to it, man!) faucet contains dust (as does even the very whitest snow.) Your clean dishes are not so clean but dripping with wetted dust and minerals and possibly, from what I have heard of you, lemur and cat dander.

Moreover, your feeble efforts to cleanse the world of dirt and dust only make the situation in your Standard Drying Apparatus more dire. Soap, dear man, soap makes gunk. I myself prefer an un-standard apparatus made of wire as being less of a soap collector, although metal is hazardous to fine china and glassware--there's nothing like a dish towel or mat for those.

Lastly, the issue of drying: do you put forth your manly effort to dry these dishes, or do you let them dripdribbledrip into your Standard Drying Apparatus? I contend that such dripdribbledrip fecklessness is responsible for much of the gunk in the world and Apparati. Blot out that soapy, dirty water with a clean absorbent cloth, David R. The world and your dinner guests (cats, Loretta the Lemur, facebook friends) will thank you, or at least will not leave in disgust, making strangled outcries.

Yours, from the Scullery--
The Pot Boy

P. S. Kindly ascertain that the above absorbent cloth is not marred by cat fur.

P. P. S. For a review of what sorts of questions I answer in my role as P.A.C., please refer to this page.

P. P. P. S. To return your Standard Drying Apparatus to its pristine state, perhaps a good soak of the noxious article in chlorox--perhaps even a judicious application of Lime Away or some other mineral remover?

The mirror child reads "The Throne of Psyche"

The Pot Boy makes a tiny film. A Scullery Production.

 

All-But-the-Kitchen-Sink-Updates

The House of Words

The new series is getting lots of reads and some interesting comments. I can see that I definitely ought to do a "best of comments" post in the end. I am going to keep the series to Monday through Friday postings, so it will be back in a couple of days.

The Throne of Psyche

Hardcover and paperback books shipped from the mill to Mercer University Press on Friday, so they will be available at independent and chain bookshops and for order in the near future. That means pre-orders are about done, so if you are a pre-ordering discount (amazon or bn.com etc.) sort of person, you had better order soon (more accurately known as now, perhaps--I am unsure when such things stop.)

Videos for The Throne of Psyche (thank you, Paul Digby!)

Paul Digby, that saintly fellow, is finishing up a number of videos on poems from The Throne of Psyche. Music and photography by Himself. Thank you so much, Paul--I am glad you are a friend of Psyche.

Watch for links soon!

The Palace at 2:00 a.m.

I have added the most-popular-posts gadget, and that means that a list with clips can be found below the archives. Bemusing: qarrtsiluni is very, very popular, far more so that I realized. Not only does "16 Reasons" lead all posts, ever, but right now several other qarrtsiluni-related posts are in the top ten.

Moreover, two from the recent Advent/Christmas series are in the top ten as well; that is especially helpful to note because it suggests that one doesn't have to do a formal review to attract people--just an introduction to the person and an excerpt appears to please. Jeanne Larsen's book of poems makes the top ten, and as a fellow poet-novelist I find that encouraging. Makoto Fujimura is also interesting to people: not surprising, as Mako is a fascinating person. Now-librarian-historian-teacher Susan Leberman is also high on the list, a thing I find curious and rather wonderful, as she is full of pep and feels things deeply and wears wonderful hats. That she is not a champion speller only adds to the charm.

What I hadn't paid any attention to is the popularity of palace characters, particularly the Pot Boy, who has not made an appearance in a long time. He has several posts in the top ten. If anybody wishes to write him with requests for posts or with "Dear Pot Boy" questions in the realm of advice for the lovelorn or on in-laws, and other pesky difficulties, feel free. He has long fancied himself as a sort of castellated Dear Abby.

Marly on the road

Tomorrow I make the swoop to Bard College, returning three rambunctious and well-fed college women to their proper places at school.

Pax tecum, Diana

Late addition: There have been some tears around here for Diana Wynne Jones, our daughter's very favorite writer. We remembered her books and the marvelous blurb she gave me--so generous--and the time when my daughter sent her an illustration...

The Return of the Pot Boy

the Pot Boy,

Palace Advice Columnist

& general answerer of questions

Lori Witzel said...

Dear Pot Boy:

Who wrote the Book of Love?

Sincerely,

Sorry, that was the best question I could come up with on Short Notice.

Ms. Witzel,

The Book of Love was written before the worlds were made. If you don’t believe it, just read more Yeats. We are made to read much Yeats here.

*

Yours truly,

the Pot Boy

*

****

blog queen said...

Ah, I have one. What is it like to be a boy/man in love? I've wondered lately. We girls get all giddy, look starry eyed, feel weak in the knees when kissed, etc. I've wondered if boys and men feel the same or is it different for them? I read also that usually one of the couple is "more in love" with the other, and saw this played out today at McDonalds. I saw a chap with his arm around a girl looking totally besotted. Giving rise to the above questions in my mind. She on the other hand looked like she was just tolerating his being there and was more in love with the ice cream cone she was holding. I was thinking, poor chap, she's probably going to dump him sometime... but anyhow, do boys/men go all gagga like girls/women do when they are first "in love".?

Ms. Blog Queen,

I cannot speak for all men, but I can certainly speak for myself. In love, I have floated past the moon head over blue-lit heels and found butterflies in my bed in the morning. Nevertheless, I have managed to keep a straight face, gaga being alien to my nature.

*

Sincerely yours,

the Pot Boy

*

****

Susangalique said...

I have been working with my profile and looks like I will just have to be faceless and hatless, I so wanted to wear my turbin hat for the potboySusangaliques question, is how a soul might beat the lethargy of bla

Miss Galique,

I will be happy to see you in your turban, whenever it appears!

A soul might beat the famous Lethargy of Blah by waking up. As Thoreau said, most people are sleepers in a long railroad track. Spices and hot oil, a pan full of suds, a book or picture I almost understand and want to grasp, unearthly encounters, music, the opposing sex: all these wake me up.

*

Snappily yours,

the Pot Boy

*

****

Dear Pot Boy,

What we would all do without pot boys?

please, i'm being rhetorical.

After all, armies and families must be nourished on a frightening regular basis. And this requires pots. Clean pots. Lots and lots of clean pots.

So, dear pot boy, please let me off the hook if you can. What i need to know is this:is it absolutely necessary for me to keep my copper pots shined at all times? i only have two in my humble kitchen, but they are used frequently and while i do often enjoy shining them 'til them gleam, i am almost always compelled to fly away with dishes dripping dry on the rack while the last of the soap bubbles slips down the drain. This means, of course, that the copper pots develop a well-worn patina i've often spied on tv chef's copper pots...but...please tell me the truth: am i slothful for not polishing them every night?

Humbly yours,

Fitful Zephyr

Fitful Zephyr,

Shine not at all times! You are a zephyr, not a sun.

Women ripen, copper tarnishes. I am also fond of copper as it heats quickly and is responsive to temperature changes. Some people clean tarnish with vinegar or salted lemon halves or other easy home remedies, but I do not dislike the evidence of time.

*

Mythologically yours,

the Pot Boy

*

****

blog queen said...

I have another question for the pot boy. Are there ghosts in your palace? I was with a friend tonight at our local coffee house and we had contact with a ghost. Details are on my blog, but I want to know about your palace, does it have ghosts, and what are they like?

Dear B. Q.,

How satisfying! A second question.

There is some disagreement about the matter of ghosts. This place is a regular rabbit warren, and it’s possible to get lost… Generally it is people who are lost who see ghosts. Some shriek and depart as quickly as possible. Others attempt to bless the ghost and lay it to rest. “In the name of Christ, be at peace!” is a common utterance. So the numbers of the ghosts may be in continual decline. Of course, some ghosts plug their ears.

I believe that the kitchen and butler’s pantry are haunted by the ghosts of vegetables. Ghosts of avocados rock back and forth in the tiered basket. Melons skitter about on tiny legs like unexpectedly graceful pigs. I once saw the ghost of a large rutabaga tapdancing on the kitchen table, surrounded by a ring of bobbing scallions.

*

Peace-be-with-you yours,

the Pot Boy

*

****

Amanda J. Sisk said…

Dear Pot Boy:

Pls do not feel unloved and come out and play! There are few worse fates than being unloved, it is true...but you could have a name that means "worthy of love" and feel the weight this title adds to the burden that is absence.

I've a query for you, but perhaps you require some gentle coaxing. Since you spend your hours in the kitchen, I assume you like to eat and also approach the edible with a certain creative flair. I've just perfected my recipe for simple home-made pasta sauce here in Italia and shall give it to you. It is not a bribe, just a gentle offering.

1 lb sun-ripened tomatoes

1 lb spaghetti

1/2 cup grated ricotta salata or pecorino

salt and pepper to tastea pinch of red pepper flakes

olive oil

6-8 basil leaves

3 cloves of garlic, chopped

Cut a small "x" in the tops and bottoms of your fresh tomatoes (pls avoid grocery tomatoes... grow them yourself or go to a market). Boil them in hot water until their skins loosen. Peel the skins whilst making sure you don't singe your own skin. Chop up the tomatoes and and put them in a saucepan with the garlic (finely chopped or pressed). Let this mixture simmer eight-ten minutes - stir occasionally. You can add a TBS or two of olive oil at this point. This is a personal choice. I find too much olive oil makes the sauce less hearty. Also add salt, pepper, and the red pepper flakes (be very sparing on the flakes). Boil your pasta in salted water. Add shredded basil and cheese to your sauce just a few minutes before serving.

Variations: Eggplant - Peel and slice into 1/2" slices and salt them. Place in a colander for 1-2 hours. Then rinse, pat dry, and fry in hot oil, turning so both sides brown. Drain on absorbent paper and add to your sauce before serving.

Black olives - 1 1/2 cups black olives, pitted and coarsely chopped. I don't use canned olives... I remove the pits myself. Try adding these with a tsp or two of oregano and a little chilli pepper for a second variation on the sauce.

Serves 6.

Some people like to add a pinch of sugar to cut the acidity of our tomato friends. I did not detect a difference when I tried it.

There will be pots to scrub, of course.

Now: Do you think it is a person's duty to build a life around a gift/skill (one recognized by the individual but also one others have defined for him or her)? Suppose it is a skill that few possess, but that the person only enjoys him or herself 95% of the time? Is it the greater duty for the person to follow his or her bliss, even if it is unrelated to the gift?

Joyful Amanda,

The recipe is in the file, waiting for the appearance of lovely red orbs of tomato. I look out the window and see much snow. A ripe tomato would make a fine contrast.

Your question is challenging. It seems, perhaps, that you may have more than one gift (sculpture, printmaking, drawing, painting?) but that you have been repeatedly urged to follow a certain way. The gift or gifts you relish are ones that you enjoy more than 95% of the time. The gift that seems “right” but lesser you enjoy a mere 95% of the time.

First, I would suggest that 95% is quite high.

Yet you love something else more.

Since I am somewhat in the dark—not completely, from what I gather of you—I would give these examples.

Here’s one that’s bliss followed in despite of gifts. A man I know—shall we call him X—was talented in the theatre and writing. Nevertheless, he had a pronounced to become a doctor and did so, despite the fact that math was not one of his favorite enterprises and was a thing that had to be endured along the way. Many people protested his decisions.

As a doctor, he has a notable talent at diagnosis because he has a strong memory and can make imaginative leaps to new possibilities. It seems that the old gifts have not vanished but give strength to the new vocation. He still does a little theatre. He still writes. But these will never be his life. They add much—very much—but the art of medicine is his.

And let us consider a stubborn woman, Y, who is an example of braided gifts. She writes poetry, she writes stories, she writes novels. Yes, you know who I mean. When she calls a stop to one thing, something else bubbles up. One mode influences another. Has she been writing a novel and turns to poems? Well, then, narrative and characters creep into the poems. Has she been writing poems and turns to fiction? Then maybe this time she wants the prose to go bow-string tight. The three fertilize one another. Borges said of his fiction and his poetry that he didn’t know which was the dog and which the tail, and whether the tail wagged the dog or the dog wagged the tail.

Let us consider Z, a Pot Boy and Advice Columnist. The mystical circles that I inscribe on the shining bottom of a pot as I scrub are what bring forth the gush of truth.

Those are examples I well know: gifts united or gifts abandoned and yet somehow bound to new vocation. But you are a mystery, somewhat to yourself as well as me. Are you better at one pursuit now than the other or others? Years can change that: persistence can change that imbalance, swing it around to the other side.

*

Yrs in chasing bliss,

the Pot Boy

*

****

Lucy said...

Dear Pot Boy

Verily my pot runneth over and there is little I need to ask. But while we're on pots and pasta sauces, are green bell peppers, capsicums, what you will, the same species as the red ones, only at a different stage of ripeness, or are they something of a different kidney? (Always loved Eliot for rhyming that with 'Sir Philip Sidney...)

Dear Lucy, resident of Box Elder--

The delightful green of Capsicum annuum or the bell pepper is, I believe, its immature state, while ripeness leads to red, yellow, or orange. (There are more than 20 species of Capsicum, and within these are many more varieties—as here, with the bell pepper.)

*

Yrs in affection for peppers,

the Pot Boy

*

****

Illustration: Credit goes to sxc.hu and Nathan May of Durant, Oklahoma for the photograph of the inside of a copper pot.

The Return of the Pot Boy

Creative speller, bonfire-maker, collector of hats, and history teacher Susanna of Alabama has suggested in the Comments that it is high time for the Pot Boy to stir up some mischief. As I am bogged down in college searches, revision of a 60-poem ms., horrid financial papers that don't bear thinking about (must pay taxes, must send three children to college), story requests, and being Mama, I think this a first-rate idea.

I have rousted him from the chimney corner by the fire (yes, I have a real old-fashioned chimney corner in my cottage of sagging floors, as well as an I-beam that holds up the floors as well as it can), and that daring young fellow has pronounced himself eager and willing to entertain questions. You may recall his piratical ways, his seizure of the premises in the guise of Palace Advice Columnist, and his dispensing of Pot Boy wisdom to novelist, poet, art teacher, person of ungraspable foreign name, child, graphic novelist, and nature photographer. You do not have to be one of these (though you may be) to ask for his sterling advice, but you do have to deposit a question.

In case you need to refresh your memory about his role and ambitions in life, you may inspect them here (and elsewhere in snips and jots of news):

The Pot Boy Spouts Off
The Pot Boy Meditates on the Tea Cosy
The Pot Boy Gets the Boot
Ask the Pot Boy, contd.
Ask the Pot Boy
The Pot Boy Tells All

Need advice or answers on matters of the heart, pots and pans, etiquette and protocol, the hunting of buffalo, why mome raths outgrabe? Please leave that question. Nothing under the sun is safe from the Pot Boy's eloquence.

Image credit: Photograph courtesy of http://www.sxc.hu/ and Valber Cortez of Maceió, Brazil.