Hail Aurora

I don’t think this technically counts as a viewing, but it’s the closest I’ve come.

Solar activity was strong, with the potential to see it here in southwest Ohio! I went outside at the prescribed time, and no – it wasn’t visible. But supposedly an extended exposure photo will reveal the hidden radiation. So I gave it a go.

Kinda maybe? I mean, it’s red. That’s not city lighting glare, right?

I’ll take it.

–Simon

Turkettas-giving

Turkey is a strangely non-favorite traditional food. I don’t know if it’s truly the taste, or that mothers everywhere overcook the things. A combination of generational food-safety paranoia combined with the Americana requirement of needing to present a turkey in its whole form to the table (white meat is done at 160F and dark meat at 175F), tends to yield less than satisfactory results. Plus, everyone tends to grab cheap turkey deals. So everyone grumbles a little at the turkey, yet also demands one be served.

So this year’s Thanksgiving attempt experienced some deviation from the norm, and I contemplated a turkey roulade. And according to the internet, I wasn’t the first to come up with this idea. That was encouraging.

But first, a turkey needed procurement. And some internet pointers. The key ingredient for this method was skin, and since I have yet to see turkey skin being sold as a standalone item, that meant an additional turkey breast to accompany the whole turkey. We were certainly going to have turkey!

But not just any turkey. A Bowman Landes turkey! Because why not? Go with famous local free-range turkey! We were hosting after a 2-year hiatus, so let’s make it special.

Turns out, the additional turkey breast, needed for the skin, contained an additional half breast. We didn’t need that much, so the remainder is frozen now awaiting a smoked turkey summer evening. Three were sufficient, butterflied and rolled with butter, herbs, and some de-boned thigh meat.

Then rolled in plastic and refrigerated overnight to set the shape.

Then rolled in the saved skin.

Baked.

Served.

And plated.

How was it? Not too bad. Certainly easier to eat and less mess at the table, although the white meat was still a tad dry anyway. However, the gravy soaked into the leftovers overnight and solved that issue. Some preparation lessons were learned, and it was more work up front, but worth the effort for something new.

Happy Thanksgiving!

–Simon

Stamford

Physical location is a strong indicator of one’s status within an organization. When I started working for my employer, I entered the building at entrance W4, which was the furthest entrance from E2: the main entrance. Unsurprisingly, E2 was an elegant and modernized entrance, with glass panel partitions and doors, comfy chairs, the security desk, etc. W2 had a malfunctioning door hinge and crumbling concrete stairs. By the time the office was shut down in favor of full remote work, my desk was by E2. I had made it.

But it was still a satellite office. HQ was in Stamford, CT. Important people, not myself, regularly flew there for important meetings. And a select few non-important people, chosen from a pool of low-ranking hourly workers such as myself, but never myself. Fast-track programs existed for us, but I was never selected. Until after about 7 years. One of 4 chosen participants, but only one would win, and ultimately they chose not to fly me anywhere, and returned me to my menial job.

I eventually landed a salaried position. And the department was based in…Alpharetta. I got to travel, but still not to HQ.

Promoted again, COVID happened, and no travel occurred at all. Then I changed positions, and shortly thereafter everyone at my last job traveled to Stamford for a department meeting.

Finally, my current department budgeted travel, and I was sent to Stamford. After 18 years, I saw HQ.

Such is white collar life.

But I don’t write about my work. Instead, this is just an excuse to post a few pics from my Stamford trip:

Chicago!
A church! Because there’s always a church.
And scaffolding, because there’s also always scaffolding.
And downtown. There’s actually not much of a downtown. I think Dayton might have a more impressive skyline.
Sally’s is apparently the best pizza place. Connecticut is also apparently the best pizza region. I’ll let the internet fight that one out, but it was indeed damn good.
Aforementioned pizza.
Obligatory view from hotel room.
Amtrak. Because trains are cool and I’ve never ridden one.

And now, the saga is finally complete. Career bucket list item checked off.

–Simon