There were so many nice stories I wanted to share today.
One was about the nature of taverns. That was in advance of the last Third Thursday Tavern Time of the year, which is tomorrow. In 2017, Tavern Time will be changing up a bit.
Of course, I was also tempted to follow up yesterday’s Ask the Profussor with another round of the same, to possibly make a theme week of the effort and potentially finish the backlog by Friday.
Another side of me wanted to address the comment I received yesterday about human beings being born vegan, which I think was made without irony. It’s a topic that might be worthy of further discussion.
But then something interesting happened on Twitter. And then I saw something interesting on Facebook. One has to do with food. The other has to do with water. And they both have something to do with things breaking.
Here’s the thing you have to remember.
Things break. Nothing lasts. Everything fails. It’s just a matter of time. See? Isn’t that a horribly depressing thought? I really didn’t want to go there today. There’s too much awful news. But at least one of these things you can do something about.
The first one, however, is the one you just have to sit and gape at in awe and wonder. Unless, of course, you are one of those brave souls who are willing to trek out to North Dakota and stand with those opposed to the Dakota Access Pipeline.
Yep. They are still standing.
Yep. Despite their victory.
And I don’t blame them.
So the oil company said the pipeline was safe. Of course, everyone knows that pipelines leak. Why would this one be any different? Well, the pipeline company would say, they have electronic monitors on the pipeline looking for leaks. And should a leak occur, they could remotely close a valve in three minutes.
Okay. That’s not perfect, but at least it minimizes the damage, if not the risks.
Except things break. And by things, that includes those electronic monitors looking for leaks. Because, true story, earlier this week that exact same pipeline spilled… wait for it… one hundred seventy six… thousand… gallons… of oil into a… any guesses?
A creek. Which just happens to be a mere 150 miles from the Dakota Pipeline protesters.
Okay. So that’s the one about water, which you can’t do much about. The other thing is about food, and this one is much more manageable. There’s even a handy dandy website that will help you figure out if your Cuisinart food processor blade might decide to cut you on the inside.
It doesn’t matter if your Cuisinart is new or old. Mine is old. Well over ten years old. And I found out last night that my blade is part of the recall. So if you have a Cuisinart, go to this website: http://www.cuisinart.com/recall and follow the prompts.
If your machine is potentially dangerous, they will send you a new blade in the mail. Apparently, mine is on its way.
I’ve got to say, this problem isn’t surprising to me at all. In fact, it was so painfully obvious that these blades had an issue, that I bought a replacement blade years ago. Mostly, because my old blade broke in a strange and scary way.
The affected chopper blades are constructed with rivets. And it’s hard to tell if there are seams in the blade or cracks where the rivets hold it onto the hub. Regardless, I replaced my first blade when I noticed a small piece of metal was missing from where it was attached by the rivet.
This was alarming, because I never saw the piece of metal in my food. Could it have broken in the dishwasher? I sincerely hoped so. This wasn’t the sharp part of the blade, but ingesting a small piece of jagged metal can’t be a good idea.
Anyhow, this was years ago. So presumably any negative effects to me, my family, or my friends for whom I made hummus, served slaw, or had over for pesto, would have been seen by now.
Fortunately, despite the seams (or maybe they are cracks), my newer blade is still in one piece. But I’m very glad that I’ll be getting something a bit more sturdy. The idea of having to toss out to 11 cups of food because I discover a chipped blade in my food processor bowl is upsetting.
I can’t even imagine how it must feel to find 176,000 gallons of oil in your stream. It’s gotta suck.