tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28047674437758138302024-03-08T18:20:47.743-05:00it's a craft-off!Toni Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700893738880903897noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804767443775813830.post-43965103336046768512015-05-27T15:25:00.002-04:002015-05-27T15:25:19.148-04:00Murphy's Law for SlobsWithout fail, I will spill something on myself when I am wearing white.<br />
<br />
And it's always coffee or a tomato-based food product.<br />
<br />
And it will always happen in a situation where changing my outfit is not easily done. It happens when I am already at work, in the middle of a meal-in-progress, or as I am in transit. <br />
<br />
Without fail. <br />
<br />
To wear a nice starchy white, because the outfit's mood demands it, is to make a guaranteed prediction into the future that I will spill my drink or my meal on myself in an obvious space (both easily-visible location on my shirt, and a geographically inconvenient locale.)<br />
<br />
And then this realization hit me.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>A realization so elementary that a baby could've spelled it out with colored magnet letters on the fridge.<br />
<br />
There is no Murphy's Law. Only <b>Fact</b>. <b> </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
And said fact is much easier to identify when you take out the piece about me "wearing white".<br />
<br />
'Coz when you remove that part, all that's left is:<br />
<br />
"I spill shit on myself."<br />
<br />
Sorry, allow me to rephrase: "I spill shit on myself, all the time."<br />
<br />
A fact disguised because I always wear clothing <i>other than</i> plain white. Those rare occasions when I'm not wearing the usual uniform of <i>something-that-is-not-plain-white</i> is when I notice that I am a clumsy slob. <br />
<br />
And apparently, also a little stupid.<br />
<br />
That baby, smarter than me? Without honed fine motor skills, that baby still could've crawled over to fridge, and rearranged magnet letters to spell U + S + L + O + B.<br />
<br />
...and still woulda been smarter than me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Toni Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700893738880903897noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804767443775813830.post-14710565747307549992015-05-01T15:04:00.004-04:002022-01-27T13:51:45.775-05:00Aunt Mary's Spinach Dip from the Olde Country<p>In the annals of the <i>Summer Soiree </i><sup>(TM)</sup> party series, there are many tales of inebriation, serendipity, and cuisine. This legend is of the origins of the landmark dish known as "Aunt Mary's Spinach Dip from the Olde Country", and it begins way back.</p>
<p>Way back. </p>
<a name='more'></a>
<p>2002... Psychic Jacque is an early <i>Soiree</i> regular. Still the swingin' "whoo girl" straight outta State College and newly transplanted to the Dirty Jerz, she can be relied upon to always <i>show up</i> and — even better — bring food. We fall in love with her Pittsburgh charm and knack for whipping up a great party dish. Also, she comes armed with her forceful intuition, earning her the moniker <i>Psychic Jacque</i> (pronounced SIGH-kick-JACK-ee).</p>
<p>The beautiful bread bowl is a standout on the kitchen counter, bringing shame to the surrounding plastic bowls of chips and dip and even the fresh-out-of-the-oven <i>Pizza Bites</i>. From its center, a mound of creamy savory goodness speckled with nutritious bits of spinach beckons the veteran drinker, looking to line his stomach for the night to come. Sure, scraps of soft pretzels and Doritos might do the trick, but quality pre-gaming sustenance is notched up several levels with the squares of sourdough asking to be drowned in dip. </p>
<p>It is <i>just </i>a spinach dip, yes. But for those lucky enough to have personally enjoyed this experience, this is an unforgettable moment. </p>
<p>And for several more <i>Soirees</i> to come, it becomes an embarrassment of riches being able to repeatedly partake in Psychic Jacque's spinach dip.</p>
<p>"Is <i>Penn State </i>coming?"</p>
<p>In the heyday of the <i>Soiree</i>, many evenings begin like this.</p>
<p>"Where is <i>Penn State</i>?"</p>
<p>"Is she coming? Is she bringing her... <i>y'know</i>... her... <i>Spinach Dip</i>?!"</p>
<p>To those not familiar with Psychic Jacque's intuitive powers, she is simply known as <i>Penn State</i>, because she is remembered by many as the cute girl at the party proud to scream things like, "JOE PA!" and "WE ARE.... " (Recall, this is a pre-Sandusky era.)</p>
<p>To have her presence at a <i>Soiree</i> was quite the get for a seasoned hostess and I recognized this early on.</p>
<p>And "early on" is also when I began asking-slash-volun-stating, "Tell me how you made this."</p>
<p>Now to those who know me, especially those who carry through their lives cherished recipes with "secret ingredients", <i>I can be trusted with such information</i>. Because I do not strive to compete with or steal your mojo. <i>Food-bringing</i> is not what I'm known for.</p>
<p>But "early on" is also when Psychic Jacque would swiftly close this dialogue with the phrase, "It's my Aunt Mary's Spinach Dip recipe from the Olde Country."</p>
<p>Meaning, <i>I can't tell you</i>.</p>
<p>Fair enough. I never planned on making it, and especially if it carried the curse (or blessing) of some old Sicilian woman who probably died standing next to her huge cauldron of tomatoes on simmer, waiting for her sauce to cook down. </p>
<p>On occasion, a drunk Psychic Jacque would reveal an ingredient or two—<i>spinach... sour cream... scallions... mayo (but don't tell anyone!).... </i>The revelation of the mayo made me feel like she was on the brink of upsetting the balance of the globe on its axis, so I took that one clandestine piece of information and held it close to my heart, pressing no further. And, for many <i>Soiree </i>seasons that followed, I simply enjoyed having Psychic Jacque grace us with her presence and dip.</p>
<p>As long as I ensured that Psychic Jacque would be in attendance, then there would indeed be Spinach Dip. The eventuality that a day would come where I'd be hosting a gathering without either popular "dish" would be a <i>cross that bridge</i>-kind of problem, and I was way inland, as far as geographical analogies go. That day was fast approaching for Captain Kirkham's <i>Dirt</i> as well, but again I was still "inland" on that problem too. (That tale and its tasty conclusion shall be dissected in a later post. Swear.)</p>
<p>I can't remember exactly how the events leading up to the Major Revelation came to pass, but let's dispense with the additional preface by revealing that the Major Revelation is that I was holding a packet of <i>Knorr Vegetable Recipe Mix</i>, and I was reading the back of the package. </p>
<p>Specifically the section entitled "Knorr Spinach Dip".</p>
<p>Words began flying out at me.</p>
<p><b>Spinach.</b></p>
<p><b>Sour cream.</b></p>
<p><b>Scallions.</b></p>
<p><b>Mayo.</b></p>
<p><i>Holy shit.</i></p>
<p>Knorr had cribbed Aunt Mary's revered spinach dip from the Olde Country. </p>
<p>This was epically bad on multiple levels, least of which was Psychic Jacque's family honor. </p>
<hr />
<p>Hah. I should've known better, since we never established what "olde country" we'd always been referring to. Some ubiquitous place in Italy from where all Italian-Americans originate, that place where people eat <i>manaGOTT </i>stuffed with <i>mutzaRELL </i>and <i>ruhGOTT</i>? </p>
<p>Or had we always been referring to Psychic Jacque's <i>Pittsburgh-area </i>homeland? </p>
<p>I think in my head, I had specifically envisioned this Mediterranean-inspired abode down the road from Heinz Field, near the off-ramp of a fictional superexpressway betwixt Sicily and Pittsburgh, awash in sunlit grape vines and ripe tomatoes.</p>
<p>But turns out, "olde country" was Shoprite.</p>
<p>Truly, it was both exciting yet anticlimactic of a reveal. Psychic Jacque was now <i>Mrs</i>. Psychic Jacque with a bambino in the oven, so her <i>Soiree</i> attendance record had been declining into the single-digit percentages. The time for me to make spinach dip on my own was nigh.</p>
<p>The Filipinos could now be known for <i>their </i>olde country spinach dip, specifically, <i>my </i>Aunt Mary's, who did not exist until that day I was standing in the powdered-soup-mix-aisle. </p>
<p>Here is the official <a href="http://www.knorr.com/recipes/detail/9278/1/knorr-spinach-dip" target="_blank">Knorr Spinach Dip</a> recipe, verbatim:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><b>INGREDIENTS</b></p>
<p> 1 box (10 oz.) frozen chopped spinach, cooked, cooled and squeezed dry<br />
1 container (16 oz.) sour cream*<br />
1 cup Hellmann's® or Best Foods® Real Mayonnaise<br />
1 package Knorr® Vegetable recipe mix<br />
1 can (8 oz.) water chestnuts, drained and chopped (optional)<br />
3 green onions, chopped (optional)</p>
<p><b>DIRECTIONS</b></p>
<p>Combine all ingredients and chill about 2 hours. Serve with your favorite dippers to your favorite people.</p>
<p><b>NOTES</b></p>
<p> Makes 4 cups <br />
Preparation Time: 10 min<br />
Chill Time: 2 hr<br />
*To lighten up dip, substitute 1 container (16 oz.) nonfat plain Greek yogurt</p></blockquote>
<hr />
<p>So this could be the lame part where this tale ends. I gave the backstory, ended with the recipe, <i>The. End.</i> Right?
</p>
<p>Completely wrong. Because I have additional information that can help you make <i>my</i> Aunt Mary's Spinach Dip from the Olde Country <i>yours.</i> And by that, I mean, some useful info that will make this task easier, better, and enable you to not get it wrong, ever. </p>
<p>Aforementioned info below:</p>
<p><b><u>You <i>can </i>low-fat the shit out of this dish</u></b>, in addition to the Greek yogurt substitution suggested by Knorr above. Go ahead, use low-fat, even <i>no</i>-fat sour cream, but be advised that this consistency can get watery. Just a head's up. </p>
<p>You could also use low-fat <i>mayo</i>, but I am warning you: never ever ever use a product suggesting that it is mayonnaise <i>without fat.</i> Because it is shitty in taste, and will make your spinach dip also taste similarly shitty. There is no recovery for this, short of dumping it straight in the trash.</p>
<p><b><u>Managing the spinach.</u></b> Sure, you could go <i>fresh </i>on this dish, but frankly, the key to this entire dish has nothing to do with oh-so-nutritious spinach. Just go to the frozen food aisle, and buy that store-brand square block of frozen <i>CHOPPED</i> spinach. Be careful not to buy the one that does <i>not</i> have the word "chopped" on it. The people you feed are not looking to eat a cold spinach salad, they want dip. </p>
<p><b><u>Managing the <i>block o' </i>spinach.</u></b> So you've peeled this gross package open, and you're scraping bits of thawed chopped wet spinach out of the box, so you can get every return on your 99-cent investment. Mistake! Waste of time! </p>
<p>The <i>moment</i> you decide you're making spinach dip, <i><b>The Very First Thing You Do</b></i> is: open up the FROZEN square of chopped spinach, sliding it out of the box (much easier when it's frozen, right?) and straight into a bowl. Open up your packet of Knorr mix and sprinkle it all over the block of spinach, and let it all melt together. Don't worry about draining later. Let all the powdery goodness in the packet soak up the melty spinach juice. (Nutritional Note: by not draining, you are also retaining very valuable anti-oxidant byproduct). If you're in a rush, it's ok to nuke this combo bit by bit until you've created this aromatic chunky green blob looking much like an American tabouli.</p>
<p><b><u>Water chestnuts have nothing to do with actual <i>nut</i> nuts<i>.</i></u></b> They're like Asian mini-potatoes, the size of... well... <i>chestnuts</i>. Starchy like a potato, and usually sold peeled and canned, and found in the Asian/foreign food aisle at your grocery. (If you can't find it, look for the chile and flour tortillas. Mexican food is also "foreign", apparently.) If you have a choice here, it's usually between <i>diced</i> and <i>whole</i>. OK, it probably seems obvious to just go with the <i>diced </i>option because they'll need to be chopped anyway. But this is also the stupid choice, while a mistake easy to make. <i>Diced </i>water chestnuts are a smidge too big to be included in a biteful of spinach dip, but also too small to further chop. And since you'll have to pull out that knife anyway, it's easier to start with the <i>whole </i>water chestnuts, getting them down to a nice acceptable size for this purpose. Think "minced garlic, but bigger"as your rule of thumb.</p>
<p><b>And I know it says <i>optional</i> next to it, but this is NOT optional. </b>The presence of this ingredient will make your spinach dip stand out to your guests. It will provide the subtle crunch that others often fail to produce in their entry-level options-less spinach dips. Again, to clarify, the phrase "not optional" means "mandatory."</p>
<p><b><u>Scallions (a.k.a. "green onions") are not optional, either.</u></b> It'll provide an additional shade of green, a different texture and some crunch, and also an onion-y zip that the reconstituted dried onion cannot deliver on. As far as chopping these bitches up... shit, did you already put that knife in the dishwasher?! As you should, 'coz it's dirty from power-dicing water chestnuts. To manage the scallions, just dig out your kitchen scissors and snip snip snip into the bowl. Dunzo.</p>
<p><b><u>Eyeball 'it. </u></b>I'm referring to the sour cream and the mayo. The sour cream may be a non-ish, since most sour cream is sold in the exact size container that you'd need for this recipe. As far as the mayo goes, you can just slap a close approximation of a standard cup size.<b> Don't be chintzy here. </b>People eating spinach dip should never (NEVER) pretend that they are eating something healthy, even though someone in the room has tried to rationalize this by emphasizing the word "spinach", or promising a healthy wonder of "low-fat" alternatives to the original ingredients. </p>
<p>That all being said, know this: MAYONNAISE is what makes this dip—nay, <i>ALL</i> dips—taste so spectacular. Accept this fact now. If your eyeballed "cup" is closer to "more than a cup", your dish will do the opposite of suffer; it will transcend. Just don't go overboard. You want <i>dip</i> here. Not a bowl of mayo with what looks like American tabouli buried in there with some sour cream.</p>
<p><b><u>The Bread Bowl.</u></b> This wasn't mentioned by Knorr, but this is the key to making Aunt Mary proud. The bread bowl used as a serving dish is completely optional, but the "theater of the mind" goes a really long way in convincing others that you have set out one quality dish for their pleasure. (It also serves a functional purpose, explained a few paragraphs further down.) </p>
<p>Sure, go ahead and hunt down the perfectly rotund rye loaf. If you find it, you will first get hit with sticker shock right before the panic sets in that you don't know how to cut it up. First of all, spinach dip in a <i>bread</i> bowl is a silly novelty that simply doubles as additional vehicles for dipping when you get down to the end of the dip and can begin eating the bowl itself. Nobody really cares what the bowl looks like, or what shape it is. It doesn't even have to be rye. (Also rye, is occasionally hard to find, and when you do find it, it seems awfully expensive for a big stone shape of ... dark brown carbs. Set your sights on your grocery's clearance baked goods, you'll be surprised at what you'll find that will easily serve this purpose.) Your potential bread bowl just needs enough area to cut enough to make a bowl-ish-like shape, and not so much that it's falling apart. I say cut a circle-ish area around the top, then slice this circle completely off; use your knife and (CLEAN!) hands to pick out the soft bread inside. If you've managed to salvage the lid, it does make a convenient lid for pre-party dip storage. If you're nervous about removing too much of the bread guts, use your knuckles (still CLEAN, hopefully) to push in the soft bread against the bottom and side walls of the bowl. </p>
<p>Depending on what bread you found and the size of the loaf, you may not get all your spinach dip inside your bowl. No worries, it happens. Fill the loaf as much as possible, then store the rest in that empty plastic container that the sour cream came in. You didn't put that thing in the trash did ya? 'Coz it's already food-safe, you dummy.</p>
<p><b><u>But what about the bread I'm going to eat my dip with?!</u></b> Yeah, so the above paragraph did not explain where you get the dipping bread from. Unless we all trust you to carefully remove neat bite-size squares of bread while bowl-ing out your loaf, your serving bread will <i>not</i> be coming from this loaf. In your grocery store, there is occasionally a bin of recently marked down bakery items. Here you will not only find the round, uncut mound that will become your bowl, but you will also often find pre-sliced loaves of their expensive artisan bread that no one else wanted to buy. And it's not stale, but squeamish, date-obsessed phobics will ignore it as long as it's still in the package that says it would've tasted better if it had been purchased by <i>last night</i>. (Trust me, they won't care when it's displayed prettily next to your breadbowl <i>tonight. </i>Just make sure you toss out the bag with yesterday's date stamped on it.<i>)</i> I usually tear up or cut these slices into smaller squares for dipping. Besides, the soft bread guts you got from bowl-making should be used <b>strictly </b>for the intial sampling, a right reserved exclusively for the chef (for <i>tasting purposes </i>only, mind you.)</p>
<p><b><u>And hey, who said you could only dip bread?</u></b> That's right. <i>No one </i>did. If the Wheat Thins or Triscuits are on sale, these will be what you're putting next to your bread bowl. Extra points for the newfangled fancy flavors of crackers. Rule of thumb? Go with whatever is cheaper. If you spend more money on your dippable foods than on the dip itself, you are without question an idiot.</p>
<p><b><u>If your dip seems too watery, don't get pissed at me.</u></b> If you regretfully wish you had ignored my advice and drained the goddamned spinach, then you're a fool. When the frozen block and Knorr mix have successfully merged, it won't be a sopping mess, trust me. If you went as low-fat as you could go, eschewing the original "full-fat" products that this and all great recipes rely upon, then this is likely why your dip is watery. </p>
<p>(Oh, this will also happen if you forgot to drain your water chestnuts. Which means you went with the "diced" water chestnuts straight out of the can, or you went with "whole" and didn't bother further chopping either. Which means that your spinach dip already has a bunch of problems, including a potential choking problem. In which case, this entire blog is not for you.) </p>
<p>And this is where your bread bowl will be more than just an edible container that won't require washing afterwards: that bread bowl will...(brace yourself) absorb any extraneous spinach dip juices. And double-bonus... when it's time to start consuming the bowl itself, these pieces will taste <i>Pretty. Fucking. Amazing. </i>Fact.</p>
<p>And there it is. I've laid bare all my spinach-dip related secrets. But you've benefited by reading them, as well as the accompanying backstory, and will now <i>wow </i>palates while charitably feeding others with your Aunt Mary's Spinach Dip from the Olde Country. <i></i></p>
<p>You're welcome.</p>
Toni Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700893738880903897noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804767443775813830.post-24026773571742815972015-04-28T12:59:00.000-04:002015-05-04T10:26:59.001-04:00The Main Event: Knit vs. Crochet<p>There's no <i>Main Event</i>, of course. Just happens to be the first topic I thought of, and coincidentally I was asked this very question just today by a West Coast relative who is also quite the DIM herself.</p>
<p>Plus, this is one area in the vast world of DIM-ing where I do actually have a split opinion.</p>
<p>The contenders? Knitting vs. Crocheting.</p>
<a name='more'></a>
<p>The battle? Not sure, actually.</p>
<p>Sometimes the question is, <i>"Which is better?"</i></p>
<p>Sometimes, <i>"Which is easier?"</i></p>
<p><i>"Which comes out nicer?"</i></p>
<p><i>"Which is faster?"</i></p>
<p>In certain camps, you will get a fixed and resolute answer to the countless questions, but from me you will get neither. Just the kind of haughty wishy-washyness that could only come from someone decently versed in <i>both.</i></p>
<p><span style="font-size: smaller"><i>(Full Disclosure: In researching the answers of others prior to the reckless writing of this post, I occasionally encountered those who are similarly ambi-competent in these two yarn arts who will also cry useless with statements like, "It's hard to say," or "I can't really choose because I like both." Candidly speaking on behalf of such multi-talents, all I can say is that this is a lame cover for subversive bragging.)</i></span></p>
<p>But I shall give you a <i>Fo' Real </i>answer right now, and this answer applies to any <i>knit vs. crochet </i>question that can be concocted by the universe:</p>
<p><i><b>"Whichever one you're better at."</b></i></p>
<p>Anyone trying to learn one or the other should definitely learn a little about both and then go from there. Anyone who feigns medium-to-extreme levels of expertise in one of the two fields should definitely learn a wee bit about the other. 'Coz I like to think of knitting and crocheting as closely related, just differing in technique, equipment, and end results. Other than that, it's just your time-old tale of a craftsy-type person armed with a ball of yarn and plenty of time on their hands. </p>
<hr>
<p>OK, so not to be like a total asshole, I intend on giving you more information than you will ever need to form your own opinions on that matter.</p>
<h3>THE BASICS</h3>
<h4>Weapon of Choice</h4>
<p>Both use a stick in some fashion; crocheting uses one, knitting requires two. (Insert <i>asterisk-mark-level </i>comment here: each craft could go into the use of multiple "sticks" at any given time, but if you're reading this post, then such information exceeds your need-to-know status.)</p>
<p>Crochet employs a hand-length stick with a shallow hook at one end, and appropriately this item is commonly referred to as a "hook"; knit makes use of two "needles", both with tapered ends.</p>
<p>Needles and hooks can be composed of a variety of materials and can often be handmade; personally speaking, there are no dead-on-balls specific requirements for exactly how one should be constructed, as long as it gets the job done. Unless of course you're following a pattern, then using the "correct" needle for the job would best elicit your desired result. For the most part, any red-blooded crafter can walk on in to your local Craft Doodad store of choice to find needles/hooks made of aluminum, plastic, and wood.</p>
<p>Knitting needles come in a variety of sizes, ranked by number, starting from 1 and going all the way up to something under like 3000. I think the numbers do not exceed three digits, because it is usually embossed somewhere into the head of the needle, and it would be a stupid waste of space. Because knitting needles can vary in length depending on your project, these numbers represent the thickness of the needle. Girth, if you will. </p>
<p>To give you an idea, a Size 10 knitting needle is about the width of your standard ETS-approved #2 pencil. Gah, OK fine I just looked it up. Per Wikipedia, it looks like the needles go up to Size 25. There.</p>
<p>Most knitting needles that readily available to purchase are generally 13" in length. They also come shorter. They also come <i>much </i>shorter, but a plastic cord or wire might be attached to the end of both needles, connecting them like a useless jump-rope with two pointy things on each end, producing a siamese-needle type affect. Some even have points on both ends. Further discussion on these products is currently unavailable to the novice reader such as yourself.</p>
<p>In the world of the crochet hooks, most average about 6" in length and are scaled by letter, starting with the beginning of the alphabet. The common "entry-level" crochet stick is usually a "K". And according to other confusing systems of Crochet Hook Measure, "K" is also known as a "10.5". Yes. As in, "a value slightly more than ten." And yes, that is cross-applicable to the Knitting Needle Measure... which means the "K" crochet hook is just a smidge bigger than your everyday pencil. A full smidge. Amazing, right?! #associativeproperty #couldalsobetransitiveproperty</p>
<p>The basic shape of each type of needle is conducive to the most common motions in each art (a phrase that will only make more sense once you get down to the actual "doing" part.) In knitting, the smooth tapered point at the end is preferable because you'll be digging that thing in to the sometimes-miniscule space between the yarn and the other needle, and you'll later need to smoothly slide the yarn off said needle; in crochet, you need the hook to pull yarn through holes you made earlier, and the pointy-but-not-too-sharp tippy top of the hook to drive through the yarn-hole in the first place. </p>
<p>Could you make your own needles? Yes, you could. If you were lazy, cheap, curiously inventive, and/or bored. But again, back off for now, you nerd.</p>
<p>(And by the way, this does also mean you <i>could</i> knit with a pair of pencils, but you're getting way ahead of the class, so settle down.)</p>
<h4>Yarn</h4>
<p>Any type of fiber in a long continuous strand will work for both of these art forms, but it is much preferable (and probably much more sanitary) to stick with natural or synethetic textile fibers sold in reputable stores. They will often be bound in a neat mass called a <i>skein</i>, or "a ball of yarn". Yarns come in a variety of sizes, textures, and colors. Choice here is a matter of preference, taste, and purpose. For example, if you have a shitty aesthetic, there's even a yarn for you. </p>
<p>Yarns are classed by a single digit number, 0 through 6, in an elaborate multi-tier system devised the <i>International Conglomerate of Yarn Deciders</i> (I'm not certain of the exact name) based on texture and "gauge". Textures range from "Lace" (0) up to "Super Bulky" (6). Your average homemade blanket by some nice old person is likely using a "Medium" (4) yarn. As for <i>gauge</i>... gauge is... better described elsewhere (like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gauge_(knitting)" target="_blank">here</a>, so read at your own leisure.)</p>
<blockquote style="text-align:justify;padding-right:10px;"><h2>Important Thing To Know/General Life Advice: "The Band"</h2>
<p style="font-family:arial;font-size:11px">In dealing with store-acquired yarn, always always always and occasionally always save <i>The Band</i>. The strip of paper affixed around the <i>skein</i> when you get a brand new ball. Unless you plan on using the yarn for a dumb doomed-to-fail Pinterest-inspired craft project, or you are a child who will be starting a really messy and eventually-ugly piece of "art" for your mommy, then NEVER discard The Band until you are abso-fucking-lutely done with whatever it is you're working on. Think of it with the same reverence you would regard the tag on your pillows. <i>The Band</i> is your font of very important information. Namely, <i>the brand</i> of the yarn. The <i>exact name </i>of the color of the yarn. These things are extremly importante when you are hoping to acquire more of the same exact yarn. Also, there's a thing called a "dye lot" (don't ask, just <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dye_lot" target="_blank">go</a>.) </p>
<p style="font-family:arial;font-size:11px">In a better analogy, it is like the who-knew-it-displayed-really-important-info sticker on a brand new car. So actually, think of your yarn more like a car, and less like a pillow.</p>
<p style="font-family:arial;font-size:11px">In addition, the yarn class will also be printed on <i>The Band</i>, sanctioned by the aforementioned ICYD (again, not certain). You'll also find recommended needle sizes that best work with said yarn of said bulk and texture, as well as a gauge (somtimes even more than one) will also be provided by the manufacturer based on recommended needle sizes. It's a veritable explosion of information in tiny print that is always useful... as long as you still have <i>The Band</i>. Completely useless once you toss it in the trash. Completely, utterly useless.</p></blockquote>
<h3>THE METHOD</h3>
<p>The most general way to describe what happens in both knitting and crocheting is that you are either using one stick or two to manipulate yarn repeatedly in a regular fashion. That's it. With slightly more specificity: you're using the sticks to push and pull at the yarn, moving the yarn on and off the sticks, making loops.</p>
<h4>Here is the <i>Simple Person</i> breakdown of each:</h4>
<p>In <b>crochet</b>, you start with a hook in one hand, and the yarn in the other. You make a super simple slip knot around the top of the hook, then pull some yarn through that slip knot to make a new loop. Lather rinse repeat, always ending each step by pulling yarn through the hole (yes, THROUGH. THE. HOLE.) and ending up with a new loop on your hook. With this maneuver, you can make a long (or short) "chain". This chain is what comprises your first row. </p>
<p>You'll know you're doing it right because you can slide the loop off the hook, easily tug at the yarn, and the whole business will begin unravelling. That's how you'll know, coz you'll be screaming bloody murder as it starts sliding apart the first time you drop a crochet hook then accidentally yank on the yarn.</p>
<p>So the chain-thing you're only going to do once, just to make do Row 1. All subsequent rows will instead go like this: flip your entire project over so you can continue working in essentially the same direction always (right to left, for most peeps), making the same exact motions (motions that I will explain in the next paragraph, so shut up for a sec) ... where was I? Yes, <i>making the same exact motions </i>over and over 'til you reach the end of the row, then you'll turn the whole thing over again, and more lathering rinsing repeating follows. </p>
<h4><i>"All subsequent rows"</i></h4>
<p>So, I explained that the basic motion of making a chain stitch is starting with a loop on your hook and pulling yarn through it. This is the basic cornerstone upon which all crochet occurs. Except by "pulling yarn through it" I can better express this by using <i>even more </i>words, and very specific crochet-cognoscenti-approved phrases like, "with a loop remaining on your hook, wrap the free yarn from your other hand <i>around</i> the hook, and using the curved end of the hook, guide the yarn through the loop." Each time you do this (wrapping/pulling/ending up with one loop) you are creating the basic unit measure of all textiles: a <i>stitch</i>. </p>
<p>So... you got that part, right?</p>
<p>The only difference between doing all that stuff over and over again in the "chain stitch" (aka "Row 1") is that in <i>all subsequent rows</i>, you're using your crochet stick to —<i>first!—</i>make a hole somewhere in your chain,<i> then </i>wrap yarn around the hook and do the "pulling yarn through the loop" thing. You're doing this over and over again, with holes you make further and further down the chain until you reach the end of the row. </p>
<p><i>"make hole" + ("wrap yarn" + "pull through loop") = a stitch </i></p>
<p>Crochet basic math.</p>
<p>When things get more complicated or <i>advanced </i>(in intermediate-crochet-speak), all you're doing is simply increasing the number of times you wrap-yarn/pull-through-loop in each "stitch". (And YES, you might on occasion wrap the yarn <i>twice</i>. It's fucking crazy.) Depending on the number of times you're wrapping and pulling, you may be doing a <i>single crochet</i>, a <i>double crochet</i>, a<i> triple crochet</i>, and so on. Crochet employs a variety of stitches based on this naming convention. </p>
<p>But for all you Simple People, you're just repeating the crochet <i>basic math</i> I outlined above, over and over again. In the same direction until you reach the end of the row, flipping it over, then doing it again and again. Until whenever you decide you're done. Or bored.</p>
<hr>
<p>In <b>knit</b>, instead of working with a single loop on one stick and adding more yarn (one loop at a time), here you're setting up a whole slew of loops on one stick all at once, then adding yarn to each stitch as you <i>move </i>each loop to the other stick (one loop at a time). </p>
<p>When you're knitting, the piece you're working on doesn't just lamely hang there off to the side while you crochet your way, back and forth across the top of it. No way, Hispanic Joe. </p>
<p>When you're knitting, all your work is constantly hanging <i>down </i>from one of the needles while you're using the other needle to pick at the yarn of each loop. You're essentially just moving each loop to the other needle one at a time (each loop-transfer is a <i>stitch</i>). And this is why you need <i>two </i>sticks for knitting. One stick, <i>holding stitches</i>; the other, <i>picking </i>at <i>stitches</i>. Bam. </p>
<p>At the end of each row in knitting, all the loops will (should) be on the other stick, so you flip the whole dang thing around and start over. (By "flip", I mean you're just swapping the needles from one hand to the other.) The needle that <i>was </i>empty in the previous row now has all your work hanging from it, and your <i>now</i>-empty needle is the one you'll be doing the picking with.</p>
<p>So let's back up to the very beginning. To begin knitting, you again are starting with a single slip knot on one needle, and the goal here is to line up a bunch of slip knots on one needle. The line of slip knots along one needle is your Row 1 here. And there are a variety of ways to accomplish this, some involving both needles, some involving only <i>one </i>needle (this method is especially challenging and demoralizing for amputees, as is this entire craft. But I digresss...), and sometimes this is even best accomplished with a <i>crochet</i> stick of all things. Anyhow, regardless of method, this step of producing your starter row of loops is known as "casting on".</p>
<p>Once you have <i>cast on</i> your desired number of loops, this is when you pick up the other needle, and officially begin using Stick #2. The basic motion of a knitter's stitch begins by sliding the pointy end of Stick #2 into the side of one of the loops on Stick #1—and yes, with two needles jammed into one loop at the same exact time, it occasionally gets damn <i>toit</i> up in here. Especially in the beginning. Fact of life.—then wrapping yarn over Stick #2 that you can pull out of this loop. </p>
<p>Yes. You're using a straight tapered point to maneuver yarn through a loop. And this stick doesn't even have a convenient hook on one end to make this task easier. WTF, right? </p>
<p>It is sorta counter intuitive, but it <i>can </i>be done, unfortunately. And even more unfortunately, it <i>has </i>been done. For eons. By many. Successfully. So quit hatin' on the game; hate on the game <i>pieces</i>. </p>
<p>The key to the maneuver is holding the sticks and the yarn at angles/heights/tension-levels that enable <i>you</i> to do this movement in relative, smooth ease. (And brace yourself, 'coz I haven't even finished. We're still <i>mid</i>-stitch here.)</p>
<h4><i>The Second Half</i></h4>
<p>SO. You've now teased a new loop of yarn through the hole with Stick #2. The second half of this move is to slide the loop that you just raped with yarn <i>off</i> of Stick #1. </p>
<p>I guess for all intents and purposes we can say I explained this incorrectly. I know I made it sound like the same loops are just moving back and forth in a slow parade of stick sliding. They're not. For lack of a better description at this moment: you're <i>using</i> each loop to yarn-rape, forming a new loop from the intercourse of fiber that now gets to live on Stick #2. And what about that first loop? No one cares about that bitch. (Kidding.) You simply pull it off of Stick #1. That's all. </p>
<p>Each and every loop on Stick #1 is getting <i>used and discarded...</i> to make new loops on Stick #2. Cruel, yes. </p>
<p>(ed. note: I realize that I will take <u>so</u> <u>much</u> <u>shit</u> for above explanation, but I would love to know if that explanation did not just make it easier to understand. And I am not trying to be glib, so if you can provide an-easy-to-understand alternative that any moron can follow, I will be happy to replace it.)</p>
<p><i>["impale loop with needle #2" + ("wrap yarn" + "pull through loop on needle #1")] + "slide original loop off needle #1" = one stitch on needle #2</i></p>
<p>Knitting basic math.</p>
<p>The variations for stitches in knitting will come from which <i>direction</i> you jammed the pointy end of Stick #2 into the loop, and yes, here too, there may be a time or two where you're wrapping yarn around the pointy end a couple of times. I've used the wordy phrasing "knitting stitches" or "stitches in knitting" because this next piece is important to know and might further confound you: there are two basic forms of stitches, and their names? </p>
<p>"Knit" and "Purl". </p>
<p>Way to be confusing, right? </p>
<p>Just to highlight, when you <i>knit </i>a stitch, you're raping that loop from the front, driving that needle towards the back; when you <i>purl </i>you're coming in <i>through the rear</i>, so the pointy end is aimed up at you. Shit proceeds to get more complex from there if you choose.</p>
<p>Armed with these two moves, a variety of textures can be created, depending on when and where you either knit or purl. Sure. You could just knit knit knit, back and forth. All the live long day. Vice versa. You could alternate a legit knit stitch all the way down one row, then purl your way back in the next row. The variations are endless and dizzying. </p>
<h3>THE BIG DIFF</h3>
<p>So now you should get the gist of both yarn arts. Lots of similarities. At the onset, however, it would seem that knitting is "harder", starting with the introduction of that damn second stick. With knitting—more so than crocheting—as you ascend the levels of ability, you'll discover that knitting at times involves a bevy of additional tools. Like those previously mentioned pointy-on-both-end needles, cable needles, row markers, etc.</p>
<p>Also to confuse matters more, there exists such an art often known as "Tunisian crochet" or "Afghan crochet", one or both of which names could be abjectly racist—unless of course, you're using aforementioned style to create a comfy blanket not to be referred to as an "afghan". #evenmoreconfusing—this style of crochet is like a naughty knit/crochet hybrid, <i>crocheting</i> your way across a row of loops in a orgy-esque variation of yarn-raping. It's pretty hardcore, and fully inappropriate for this rudimentary level of discourse.</p>
<p>Another item of consideration is that crochet technique tends to be limited to the way I (attempted to) describe above, with a single variation for left-handed or dyslexic folk. With knitting, while you also have the option of employing a similar mirrored version, there is also the choice of knitting in one of two styles, English or Continental, varying in where you are holding the ball o' yarn ("skein"). Again, simply a choice of preference, although this can be an additional boon for voracious Anglophiles.</p>
<h4>Insert bullet points here</h4>
<p>So without additional fanfare, I shall now rattle off a list of quick & dirty basic differences:</p>
<ul>
<li>Crochet uses more yarn per stitch.</li>
<li>The end result of knit tends to be more fluid and "drapey" in texture.</li>
<li>The end result of crochet tends to bulkier and dense, making it great for warm-weather apparel or blankets.</li>
<li>Crochet is always reversible.</li>
<li>Knit is usually not reversible, unless you're following some fancy schmancy pattern that is meant to yield reversible results.</li>
<li>Knitting is discriminatory towards amputees, especially those who have endured uniform amputation in the upper torso.</li>
<li>Crochet sticks look an awful lot like your basic Tupperware orange peeler, particularly if you have bad eyesight and are standing at just the right (or wrong) distance. Ergo, your crochet hook can be quite handy during peak orange-eating season, especially if you are hampered by short fingernails, or have hangnails that will sting if touched by acidic liquids. <li>When you get comfortable with knitting at a relatively decent clip, by using aluminum needles you can create a pretty cool metallic swishy sound.</li>
<li>Even though both arts can be done pretty much anywhere—except, maybe, <i>swimming</i>—travelling with a <i>skein</i> and a single crochet stick is much easier.</li>
<li>In that same vein, crocheting is easier to accomplish when in tight spaces, like crowded subway cars, elevators, behind the driver's wheel of a compact sedan, etc.</li> <li>In a pinch, a knitting needle can be used in lieu of a conductor's baton, especially in moments like a last-minute orchestral-related emergency. #lifehack. </li>
<li>As proven by classic literature, knitting is also a handy form of note-taking, specifically that of long lists of names, and especially if you have difficulty with memorization.</li>
<li>The crochet stick is less "threatening" than knitting needles in appearance, although both are now TSA-approved and currently permissible for air travel in carry-on luggage, as of this writing.</li>
<li>Knitting offers a vast-oh-so-vast array of patterns and stitches, which, when employed in concert, produce a large variety of finished textures.</li>
<li>Crochet gets boring faster.</li>
<li>Since crocheting requires the constant use of one hand, your movements can go interrupted if you have an itch or need to give someone the finger.</li>
<li>Also, knitting is better if you gravitate towards kinesthetically-beneficial and symmetrical body movement. Your chiropractor would say the exact same thing.</li>
</ul>
<p>So there it is. My short-answer-longer opinion on this matter. </p>
<p>(And yeah, I know. It might sound like I'm saying that crocheting may come out ahead for a number of reasons. But I personally prefer knitting. I think it makes me look cool.)</p>Toni Ryanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700893738880903897noreply@blogger.com0