daily bardo

  • low tech love

    It’s days like this that remind me why I use my high tech toys to write about low tech adventure.

    This blog, about adventure, travel, and cooking (of course) tend to find me occupying my mind and words with the notion of doing things simply and manually. Grinding coffee beans and making a pour over, rather than using a pod-machine. Baking sourdough from a carefully managed starter rather than tossing yeast and flour into a bread machine. Cooking with fire and cast iron rather than getting excited about an air fryer or instapot.

    Simple. Manual. Low tech.

    This morning I’m struggling with optimizing a database on a small web server, fighting with code and network configurations and firewalls.

    Complex. Mysterious. High tech.

    So. A short break here, to write and to hang out in the former world before I need to return back to the latter. Sigh.

  • mid-pour

    I don’t even know if its really a point of debate, but a small thing happened yesterday that made me wonder if perhaps it isn’t as obvious as I thought.

    I bought a coffee at a local “not starbucks” cafe.

    I ordered a dark roast. They were out, but just about to brew more.

    So the barista started the machine, and as the fresh brewed coffee started to pour out of the basket at the bottom of the drip brewer, she tucked a cup under it and caught the approximately 400ml-ish of very freshly brewed liquid directly, put a lid on it, and handed me the cup.

    It. Was. Strong. Coffee.

    To note, this was a commercial coffee brewer, filling a full (let’s say) five-to-ten litre urn.

    My thoughts are that a proper drip coffee brew should be balanced by all the stages of extraction. The strongest coffee comes through first, then the strength tapers off for the duration and at the end some weaker extraction comes through to balance out the full pot. You don’t take bits out of parts of the brew without affecting not just the cup you stole but the whole pot.

    Obvious?

    I thought so. It’s a good thing I don’t mind a strong cuppa occasionally.

  • en français

    We’re going to be travelling later this year, and those travel plans include a location where English — my first language — is not the primary tongue. English is almost certainly spoken and understood there (it’s in Europe, after all) but even knowing that I’d like to at least brush up on my second language skills as part of a “good traveller” mentality.

    So, all that is to say that I’ve been streaking on Duolingo.

    I’ve hit a full month of daily practice in my French skills.

    I mean, I grew up in Canada where part of the school curriculum is basic conversational French, but it’s easy to feel it slipping away into the cold storage parts of my brain.

    Practice, practice, practice. All spring? Hopefully, and by the time my summer vacation rolls around… au revoir!

  • spring into action.

    Every year bookings for local campsites open way earlier than I’m actually thinking about the upcoming camping season. The choice options get snapped up fast and there is thin pickings for everyone who wasn’t planning their summer plans way back in late winter.

    As spring begins (today being the first “full” day of spring) and summer is now the next in the queue, planning how we’re going to spend those precious few months of improved weather has been on my mind.

    We’re doing some travelling.

    I’m going to be doing a lot of running as I train for a fall marathon.

    And, of course: Campfires. Gardening. Patio beers. Summer walks. Fishing. And just being outdoors.

    Some of these require some advance planning, while much of it will be spontaneous.

    How are you planning for summer? By springing into action now?

  • bread journaling.

    Do you keep a baking journal.

    I know, if you’re not a hardcore baker or sour-bread-head, then maybe that sounds a little nutty.

    But after nearly four years of baking sourdough from my little kitchen and having a few of photos and plenty of tasty memories, I realize I haven’t kept great notes on what I made, how I made it, or when or why or how or whatever…

    I blogged a bit, and you can find it here.

    I made lots of tick marks on my starter-ware to denote a baking event.

    But I couldn’t tell you the specifics.

    Specifics and details and notes are how you learn and get better.

    My bread is pretty good, but it could always be better, right?

    So. Maybe a journal isn’t a terrible idea.

    How do you keep a bread journal and what kinds of things do you write in it?