Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


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Like my brownhouse:
   crash course in veganism
Saturday, August 30 2014
Having punched through to a layer of weaker rock in the greenhouse basement, the remaining bench of hard rock is proving fairly easy to take apart with the jackhammer. The resulting pieces are big and block-shaped (as opposed to the large, flat plates of higher bluestone layers), and I'm once again filling five gallon buckets at a fast rate. The difference now, though, is that removing rubble from such a deep hole is becoming increasingly difficult. At some point, I will need to install a ladder and some sort of block & tackle system, especially if I find myself breaking off pieces of rock that are too heavy to lift.
This evening the plan was to go to the new gourmet pizza restaurant in Woodstock called Rick's Wood-Fired with Eva and Sandor. Gretchen was working at the bookstore in Woodstock, so for some reason Eva and Sandor picked me up. Partly what they wanted to do was see Celeste the Kitten, though initially she hid out beneath the Chaise Lounge in the teevee room while Ramona and Eleanor engaged in the kind of vigorous play they do when they're showing off. Sadly, they would not get to come.
Unlike an Indian restaurant that never gets a liquor license and remains perpetually BYOB, Rick's Wood-Fired now has their license. The waitress mixed up my draft Sam Adams Rebel IPA with the draft Brooklyn Lager ordered by Sandor, something I could immediately tell, though Sandor seemed to think IPA tasted like a "good lager." If he thinks that, perhaps he shouldn't be ordering lagers at all. As for the pizza, it was about as good as pizza can be. Unlike Catskill Mountain Pizza, Rick's Wood Fired isn't stingy with the toppings. (I had a vegan version of the "Shrooms.") Eva, who is convinced that she should avoid both gluten and nightshades, decided to live dangerously when the waitress told her that they were out of gluten-free dough. Eva also ate a slice of Gretchen's pizza, which contained a certain amount of tomato sauce as well as gluten. Rick's seems to be making a real effort to make the restaurant appealing to Woodstock's large & vociferous vegan community, though we found vegan dessert options weak. So Gretchen gave our waitress some recommendations and even wrote down the phone numbers of bakers who could supply good vegan options (including our friend Maresa of Mark & Maresa). As we were leaving, Gretchen chatted with the cook (who might have actually been Rick but who looked like Elvis Costello) and told him about the options for non-dairy creamer (and perhaps other things that would be part of any crash course in veganism).

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