unintentional experiments
certain people who have shared a dorm with me in the past will know exactly what the title refers to without having to read any further. others of you will have no idea, and just might be put off your appetite by reading further. you've been warned.
a while back, i cooked some nice chicken. i stored the meat of the chicken in meal-sized gladware, and ate it for a few days until it ran out.
today, i unearthed the non-meat remains of that chicken sitting in its pot on a back burner, covered in the large potholder i'd used to lift the pot's lid.
i blame this on the potholder, really, since it disguised the pot and hid the budding experiment from my view. nevermind that the pot itself was always there in plain sight.
so. i lifted the potholder, and was amazed. mold is a truly beautiful thing that many cannot appreciate. the intricate strands of it, forming a fluffy pillow of dense grey wool.... there was the tiniest bit of moisture i could see through the glass lid. like dew on grass, if the grass were little dark-headed sprouts of mold. i was intrigued, but a bit afraid of the consequences of lifting the lid to that fungoid wonderland.
i lifted anyway.
perhaps it was the stage of development. perhaps it was the pristine environment of chicken carcass. perhaps it was the same motivation grass has when it has been covered by a dark plank of wood for too long.
the lid lifted free of the pillow, and behold! the pillow held its shape like a black-speckled cotton candy. there was even a compacted rim around the edge where the glass lid had been tamping down the mold growth.
i was curious. would this fluffy creature deflate with a poke or a shake, like a risen bread baby? would the sudden rearrangement of the ecosystem's contents result in a smell?
i grasped the pot by the handles and shook it slightly. the mold held. the same sterile, scentlessness remained. my mold cake, easily three solid inches tall, reacted not a bit.
it did not tear itself in half when the lid was removed. it did not smell. it did not deflate or issue grumpy demands to be left alone. nothing happened.
alas, i need the pot clean for my next project, and so the experiment had to be called short. with a few sprays of tilex mold and mildew remover, my beautiful pillow developed black, viscous liver spots all along its surface. my baby has aged, and will probably shrivel during the night.
still, it was fun. and i think once the mold is dead this pot will be easier to clean out and disinfect than the many tea cups in my life have been.
love and peace
a while back, i cooked some nice chicken. i stored the meat of the chicken in meal-sized gladware, and ate it for a few days until it ran out.
today, i unearthed the non-meat remains of that chicken sitting in its pot on a back burner, covered in the large potholder i'd used to lift the pot's lid.
i blame this on the potholder, really, since it disguised the pot and hid the budding experiment from my view. nevermind that the pot itself was always there in plain sight.
so. i lifted the potholder, and was amazed. mold is a truly beautiful thing that many cannot appreciate. the intricate strands of it, forming a fluffy pillow of dense grey wool.... there was the tiniest bit of moisture i could see through the glass lid. like dew on grass, if the grass were little dark-headed sprouts of mold. i was intrigued, but a bit afraid of the consequences of lifting the lid to that fungoid wonderland.
i lifted anyway.
perhaps it was the stage of development. perhaps it was the pristine environment of chicken carcass. perhaps it was the same motivation grass has when it has been covered by a dark plank of wood for too long.
the lid lifted free of the pillow, and behold! the pillow held its shape like a black-speckled cotton candy. there was even a compacted rim around the edge where the glass lid had been tamping down the mold growth.
i was curious. would this fluffy creature deflate with a poke or a shake, like a risen bread baby? would the sudden rearrangement of the ecosystem's contents result in a smell?
i grasped the pot by the handles and shook it slightly. the mold held. the same sterile, scentlessness remained. my mold cake, easily three solid inches tall, reacted not a bit.
it did not tear itself in half when the lid was removed. it did not smell. it did not deflate or issue grumpy demands to be left alone. nothing happened.
alas, i need the pot clean for my next project, and so the experiment had to be called short. with a few sprays of tilex mold and mildew remover, my beautiful pillow developed black, viscous liver spots all along its surface. my baby has aged, and will probably shrivel during the night.
still, it was fun. and i think once the mold is dead this pot will be easier to clean out and disinfect than the many tea cups in my life have been.
love and peace
posted by Rehkmira @ 21:45
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