A Perfect Omelette

This morning, I made a perfect omelette. It was fluffy and beautifully browned (some people don't think they should be browned at all, a la French omelettes, but I think they are fools) and had the perfect amount of cheese in it. To make a perfect omelette is a small thing. To marry the person who can appreciate it as much as you do is one of the greatest gifts.

It totally stinks that Ben is working this morning and won't be done working until 11pm because he's taking one for Team B-R and working more than anyone should.

It has never been the big things that teach us how to feast, and it is never the big things that teach us how to fall in love. Feasting, like falling in love, takes practice. Ben and I had no idea what we were doing when we started dating 15 years ago and weren't much farther along when we were married 9 years ago; we had no idea how to cook, no idea what spending half of our lives together would look like and no idea that it was actually all of the detours along the path that make the journey worth it.

We're still not really sure what we are doing, but we can make a mean omelette. Satis est.

Perfect Omelette for One:

2 eggs

2T milk

1/4c of whatever cheese you happen to have laying around

a pinch of salt

a pinch of pepper

freshly grated nutmeg if you dare

fresh herbs if they're around (skip the dried ones; they don't have enough time to meld in dishes that cook fast...)

Heat 1T butter in a cast-iron skillet over medium heat (assuming you have a gas stove... you can make a passable omelette without a gast stove and without a cast iron skillet, but it is difficult to achieve perfection). Whisk together the egg and milk using a circular motion (imagine the circle is vertical instead of horizontal; it will add more air to the mixture and improve the texture). Add the salt, pepper, and herbs. Pour the mixture into the hot skillet. Wait a few minutes until the outsides start to solidify. With a rubber spatula, push back the eggs closest to you and tip the pan toward you so that the un-done egg flows in. Do this once or twice. If your omelette starts to get too done on the bottom, turn down the heat. When there is no more liquid, put the cheese on top of the egg. Swoop the rubber spatula under half of the pan, gently folding the omelette over. Voila!

More importantly: To make a perfect omelette for two, double all of the ingredients and get a bigger pan. And make hollandaise sauce. And open a bottle of rose. 

Perfect Omelette for Two with Hollandaise:

For the Omelette:

4 eggs

1/4c milk

Skip the cheese for this one; the hollandaise will do.

1/2c. asparagus, quickly blanched (see below)

a pinch of salt

a pinch of pepper

Julia Child's Hollandaise from The French Chef Cookbook (As I was doing the link to Amazon, I noticed there are used ones for under $10. Buy it now; you won't regret it.)

3 egg yolks

1T lemon juice

1T water

1/4t salt

pinch of white pepper (we use whatever color we happen to have on-hand)

1T cold butter

1 1/2-2 sticks melted butter (if you are squeamish about using this much butter or if you have margarine in your fridge, skip the hollandaise altogether. Feasting is not for the faint of heart.)

Beat the egg yolks in the pan (before you turn on the heat) to stabilize them and prepare them for what is to come. When the color of the yolks starts to lighten, you know they are ready to be transcended into  perfection. Beat in the lemon juice, water, salt, and pepper; beat for a minute again. Add the tablespoon of cold butter to prevent the mixture from heating too quickly (which will scramble your eggs, which is a sign you need to start over. Having two dozen eggs on hand before you begin this process will help alleviate frustration and increase your bravery; it is worth a few more eggs in the compost to make perfect hollandaise). 

Place the saucepan over low (I mean it - LOW!) heat and stir the egg yolks with a wire whip at a moderate speed. Pick the pan up off the heat every now and again to slow the cooking process. If you see lumps forming, you can put the bottom of the pan in a bath of ice water, as Julia suggests, but I am too easily frustrated and get an immense amount of pleasure out of the theatrics of dumping a failed sauce in the compost and starting again. 

Know thyself and respond accordingly if the sauce starts to flop. For me, there is nothing quite like taking a pan of steaming flop and ceremoniously walking outside, opening the lid to the compost and, with a flick of the wrist, dumping the whole thing in. You have not failed it; it has failed you.

Back to the eggs. This is the version of the story where the eggs do not begin to scramble and you have a perfect sauce. Beat the eggs over LOW heat until you can see the bottom of the pan between strokes. When they coat a spoon dipped in the sauce, you are ready to start adding hte melted butter. Start adding the melted butter VERY SLOWLY, dribble by dribble, as you are emulsifying the eggs with the butter at this point in time. This takes patience and a steady hand. Do not give up. This sauce is completely worth it. The sauce will thicken to a heavy cream; when it does, it is stable enough for you to add the butter a little more quickly. Taste it to see if it needs anything. If not, pour it on top of your omelette, which your partner - by now - will have just completed.

DO NOT, however, dump the sauce into the compost if it does not emulsify properly. 

Should it happen that the egg yolks resist the butter (you will be able to tell because the fat will stay separate from the eggs and it will not thicken), you CAN fix this. Two sticks of butter is too much for even me to waste. Three egg yolks are negligible. To fix it, leave a little bit of the egg mixture in the bottom of your pan and pour the rest into whatever you are using to pour the butter in. Start whisking, adding the mixture back in slowly, dribble by dribble, once again. Breathe. Put it down and take a break if you must. Don't throw away two sticks of butter, for the love of all things holy.

For the Omelette:

Blanch the asparagus:

Set a pan of very salty water (it should taste akin to the ocean) on the stove to boil. When it is boiling, dump the asparagus you have cut into 1-inch segements in. They will turn bright green. Remove them after 30 seconds to one minute, depending on how crunchy you would like them to be. Set aside.

Follow the directions for the perfect omelette above, adding the asparagus when you would add the cheese and following the same process.

Cut the omelette in half and slide onto two plates. Pour a liberal amount of hollandaise over the omelettes and garnish with fresh herbs (chives or parsley are particularly delightful) if you have them. 

I love hollandaise so much that Ben has already started scheming of ways to pasteurize the egg yolks so that I do not have to give up hollandaise when I am pregnant (and no, I am not, should you be raising an eyebrow at this). 

Grilled Trout with Horseradish Cream... Lemon Curd for Dessert!

It has been a long time. I have eaten since we last spoke, but I haven't feasted much. I was starting to become scared Ben and I had forgotten. For all the candles and all the wine, neither loosened enough of the oh-my-God-how-are-we-ever-going-to-survive fears of failure, fears of unknown, fears that we have been drawn into a future that is going to be more work and more amazing than we imagined. It's terrifying. There have been times it was all we could do to hold each other's hands, knowing we each needed to journey along the road alone. There have been times we wanted so desperately to connect that we fought because it was the closest thing to a good conversation we could muster.

But we are feeling brave. There comes a point that fear ceases to have any power precisely because it has so much. For us, its domination led to our determination to subvert it. Armed with trout, wine, beeswax taper candles, and a couple of new friends, we have decided to practice the feast until we remember it. We will keep lighting candles, and we will keep drinking wine. Soon we'll break though. On that day, we'll be ready, and we will laugh our heads off, tears streaming, stomach aching. Then we'll know we're home.

Grilled Trout:
- 1 trout per person
- Parsley
- Lemons
- Olive Oil
- Salt and Pepper

Leave the trout whole: heads, tails, eyeballs, etc. If your guests are squeamish about heads, they come off rather easily after they have been grilled (grab a paper towel, take the head, and pull it off. It sounds completely grotesque... I once worked in a restaurant where a waitress, in her frustration that Americans do not want to acknowledge that the thing they are eating was once living and that somehow the head is representative of all this, grabbed a napkin and, at the table, pulled the fish's head off. I had to go back into the kitchen to giggle to myself and regain my composure). Fish have heads. We eat fish. Plus, the cheeks (right under the eyeballs) are the best part of the fish!

Okay... enough about fish heads. Fire up your grill 40-60 minutes before you want to cook them; the charcoal should all be white. While the fish are still raw, salt and pepper the outsides and the insides. Put inside of each fish several sprigs of parsley and slices of lemon. If you want, you can get some butcher twine and sew up the seams of the fish to keep all of the stuff on the inside. I know a woman (not naming any names) who uses her tapestry needles for knitting to do such a task... I remember (I mean, she remembers) to wash off the needles before returning them to the knitting bin - most of the time. Grill the fish for 5-10 minutes per side (this varies greatly, given the heat of your grill). The fish should be done but not dry. The "touch" test also works well: if, when you push your finger down on the fish and it feels firm to the touch, it is finished. This is also how we test lamb. Why not use a thermometer? As great as thermometers are for such tasks, I do not always have one on me and do not always have time to remember to go get fifteen million things when I am drinking a gin and tonic and grilling. I'd rather just enjoy the gin and tonic and impress my guests by touching the fish and proclaiming it done.

After the fish are done, or, if you split up the tasks, when the fish have been flipped, you can make:

Seared Green Beans with Parmesan, Chilis, and Garlic
- Olive oil
- 2 cloves garlic
- 1 dried chili, crushed
- 1/8c parmesan cheese, grated with a microplane
- 1 lb green beans

Heat the olive oil until it is thin in the bottom of the pan; this occurs just before it starts to smoke. It will be hot. Don't get scared. You might burn yourself. You will get over it and, with time, will learn how to not burn yourself. For the time being, muster your bravest self and deal with the consequences later. It's tough to burn yourself really badly doing this, though oil burns do suck. If you get one, rinse immediately in cold water or, if you're really into cooking, just grab an ice cube out of the freezer and hold it in your hand while you finish cooking. Plate the food and put aloe on the burn. This way, dinner still gets made and you take care of the burn. Anyway, the olive oil is now hot and almost smoking. Throw the garlic and the chili in the pan, swoosh it in a circle, and add the green beans. Leave the green beans for 2-3 minutes or until one side of them has started to blister and turn brown. This is carmelizing the sugars in the beans, which makes them delicious.

After you plate the beans, sprinkle parmesan on top.

Lemon Curd Tartlets for Dessert!!!

I love lemon curd. It is lemony, puddingy, and remarkably satisfying. I make it a lot and there are probably at least three other entries of it on this blog.

Lemon Curd Tartlet
Pie Crust
- 1stick butter
- 1 1/2c flour
- Water
- 1t salt

Cut the butter into small pieces and mix with the flour and salt, squishing it between your fingers until the mixture is uniform and there are no big butter chunks. Add water, stirring with your hands (this is messy!) until the dough feels like play-doh. Roll out fairly thinly and cut to the size of your tart pan. I'm making mini-tarts, but you can make any size you like. Bake at 350 until just before it starts to brown (check it after 10 minutes or when you can smell it).

Lemon Curd (from The Art of Simple Food by Alice Waters)
- 4 Lemons
- 2 eggs
- 3 egg yolks
- 2T milk
- 1/3c sugar
- 1/4t salt
- 6T butter (3/4 stick)

Grate the zest of one of hte lemons on a microplane; juice the lemons (there should be around 1/2c). Beat the eggs, yolks, milk, sugar, and salt until just mized. Stirr in the lemon juice and zest and add the butter. Cook in a heavy-bottomed pan (non-aluminum) over medium heat until it coats a spoon (it will be pretty thick and will seem to happen all at once; you'll notice a difference!). If you accidentally curdle it (i.e. it starts to look like scrambled eggs), immediately strain it through a mesh strainer and it is good as new.

Pour the custard into the tart pan(s) and bake at 350 until set... this should take 10-20 minutes, depending on its size.

Voila! Feast! Pictures are coming!

Homemade Flavored Soda

Have you ever seen those fancy $7 for four sodas in the coop with amazing flavors like lavender and lemongrass?  They were never in my budget.  Now they never will be.  Buy a case of soda water, and knock yourself out, experimenting with flavors:

Basic Recipe:
Simple Syrup
       1c sugar
     1/2c water
Bring these to a boil for a few minutes until sugar is completely dissolved.

Depending on whatever flavor you're hankering, put it in at the beginning.  Store it in a small mason jar or whatever heat-friendly container you have lying around.

Suggested flavors:
Vanilla (add 1 vanilla bean) => tastes like cream soda
Lavender (add 1T dried lavender flowers)
Rosemary Lime (add 1T lime juice and 1t dried rosemary)
Lemongrass (put 1 small stalk lemongrass)

YUM!

Swedish Frikadeller. Don't Judge. Or Do. Whatever.

Hi.  It's been a while.  We moved back to the Twin Cities from internship.  We were homeless for two weeks, traipsing to friends' houses, trying to not out-warm our welcome.  The car broke down.  School started.  I couldn't remember how to be a student.  Which made applying to PhD programs really nerve-wracking.  So I almost broke down.  Almost.

But I'm BAAACK!  And I'm cooking again for the fun of it.  Sometimes, it is the muscle memory of the feast that keeps us going until our next meal.  There is nothing that duplicates the first time you forget yourself and let the candles burn down... or at least when it feels like the first time... again.

And it's fall, leaning winter, and it is one of my favorite times of year.  It's great for wool sweaters, knitting, reading, writing, and studying, which is all to say it is the time of year for which I was born.  SNOW IS COMING!

Now, for dinner.

Swedish meatballs... a la Ben and Mandy.  They're typically poached pork and beef meatballs, but we don't like the texture of poached meatballs (seriously... little rubbery balls of something that was once meat... ew.  Hardcore Swedes would tell me that means I'm overcooking them, but I think you actually have to be Swedish to pull these off).  For the food nerds out there, we're having something between Swedish meatballs and their Danish cousin frikadeller.  We're sauteeing the meatballs for texture, and we're having sour cream cardamom sauce from Swedish meatballs because it's delicious.

"Swedish Frikadeller" made by a German/Dutch woman and an English/French man.  It's complicated.

1/2lb pork
1/2lb beef
1/4 onion, diced and sautteed a little.
1 clove garlic, crushed and chopped, sauteed with the onion.
1 egg
1/2c. breadcrumbs
1T milk
nutmeg
cardamom
salt
pepper

Put the pork and beef in a bowl.  Add the egg.  Pour the milk over the breadcrumbs and dump that in too.  Grate some fresh nutmeg (really, don't buy the ground stuff; it will keep forever in its little nutty shell and you can use it later for homemade eggnog; the recipe for that will come closer to Christmas), grind some cardamom with your new mortar and pestle (if you haven't bought one yet, go tell your grandma or Aunt Edna that you want one; they will be so excited you know what a mortar and pestle is, they will probably buy you one) and put that in too.  Add salt and pepper.  Mix.  With your hands.  Ben seriously started mixing it with a fork tonight but caught himself before I could deride him.  God gave us fabulous hands for getting messy and wonderful water for washing them.  Use your hands.  If you can't bring yourself to touch the stuff, find the nearest toddler or 4-year old, wash their hands (seriously, they have the idea: they use them for EVERYTHING, so wash them first before having them squish the mixture together).

Fry in a pan of hot olive oil.  After the outsides are browned, put it in the oven (at 350 or so) for 15 minutes to finish cooking.

For the sauce:
1/4-1/2c. sour cream
Enough stock to make the sour cream sauce-y
Ben put in some heavy cream because it's delicious.
Salt
Pepper
More cardamom (!)

Mix in a pan, heating slowly.  Taste.  Reduce over medium heat until it's the texture of gravy.

With this, we are having mashed potatoes, kale, and lingonberry preserves, which taste a little like cranberry sauce, but they're much smaller and therefore much better (you can find them at Scandinavian stores, including Ikea, and lots of online purveyors).

For Dessert:
Tarte Tatin.  It's French for apple pie (kind of... but not precisely... but it's so delicious all it should ever really translate to is "mmmmm").

Preheat your oven to 375.

I made a mini one tonight, so here's tarte tatin for two (adapted from From the Garden to the Table by Monty Don) double this for a 9-inch sautee pan:
1/3c APF (all-purpose flour)
2 T butter
1T sugar
1 egg yolk
1/4t salt
1-2T water

Put all of the ingredients except the water into the food processor (a good one is kind of spendy... Cuisinart makes one for around $100, but it paid itself off within the first three months with how much we used it).  After the mixture looks kind of uniform (i.e. you don't hear the food processor chunking along), add the water slowly, just until the mixture starts to all stick together and make a ball in the processor.  Wrap the ball in plastic wrap and put it in the fridge.

For the filling:
5 apples, peeled and cut into fourths - BIG chunks!
2oz (1/2 stick) butter (seriously, stop it with the butter.  You can eat salad or lentils for lunch tomorrow to balance the cholesterol).
2T sugar

Put the butter and sugar in a pan with a flat bottom (I used a 6" cast iron skillet and it worked beautifully).  When they're melted, put the apples in and toss them to coat in the butter/sugar mixture.  Cook over low-ish heat until the apples start to get tender.  Then turn up the heat until the bubbles coming up between the apple slices become dark brown.  When this happens, put a bunch of flour on a cutting board, put your dough ball on it, and roll it out into the closest thing you can make to a circle.  I don't even try to make mine circles any more.  I'd rather spend my energy eating.

Put the circle on top of the pan, pressing the sides under the apples slightly.  You won't burn your fingers too badly; it's worth it to get a little brave (and, after the first several times, burning yourself isn't really that big of a deal.  Cold water and aloe are really great solutions to that problem).

Bake until the top is browned.  Take out of the oven, let rest for 5 min, and invert it onto a plate.  If it doesn't all come out or is ugly, don't worry.  Whipped cream is the solution to that problem.  If it's really ugly, spoon it into a bowl and act like you did it on purpose.  No one will know, and, even if they do, it's delicious enough they probably won't say anything.  If they do, you might want to start looking for new friends.

Welcome home.

My New Favorite Thing... I Have Lots of Favorites

So, dear friends, corn is in season.  I love corn on the cob: boiled, grilled, roasted... pretty much any way you can make it.  And now I have a new favorite way to eat it.  I used to eat it covered in butter, which is delicious.  Then, one night we were grilling out with a friend who happened to bring an avocado.  For whatever reason, I thought, "Hey, let's make avocado butter and put it on our corn!"  So...

put 1 avocado and 1/2 stick butter (get over it - it's just butter... give up fast food and you'll never have to worry about how much butter you eat ever again, even if you only go twice a month) into a food processor.  Add a bit of salt.  Mix until it is super creamy.  Throw the pit back in to keep it from oxidizing if you're not going to eat for a while.  Spread it on your corn and swoon.  It's that good.

This stroke of genius made me feel amazing, which is really nice because I have begun studying for the GRE and have discovered that I still really stink at high school math.

You'll Want to Sit Down for This

I was going to take a picture... but then I got too excited and ate dessert before I remembered to do it.

I can't remember what we ate last weekend for feast meal.  Oh yeah, some sort of pork something or other.  It was fine.

Dessert, on the other hand, is going to be a favorite of mine for a while:

Basil Panna Cotta with Blackberry Gelee

...do not be intimidated by the name!  Or the recipe!  Make this and eat it.  You'll be happy you did.  Panna cotta is simply custard that is thickened with gelatin instead of eggs, flour, cornstarch, tapioca, or any of the other million things used as thickening agents.

2c. heavy whipping cream (for the love, if you're worried about dieting or calories, cut out doritos or fast food for a week).
1/4c. basil leaves, chopped
1/3c. sugar
1 pkg, or 1T, gelatin (made by the Knox company... you can find it at most grocery stores near the jello).
3T water

Heat 1c. of the cream (I always forget and heat both cups together) with the basil and sugar in a saucepan over medium heat.

Put the water in a small bowl and pour the gelatin over it.  Set aside for a minute.

Once the cream has started to steam from the top (not boil... but if it does, the world won't end even though - it's true - it can change the structure of the cream, though for this recipe the gelatin stabilizes it), turn it off, put the lid on the saucepan, and steep for 10-15 minutes until it smells delicious and basil-y.

Add the gelatin mixture to the cream/basil/sugar mixture.  Stir in the remaining 1c of cream.  Pour into glass bowls (or mason jars or ramekins) and put in the refrigerator.

...once you have done that, time for the gelee.  Again, gelee sounds more fancy than it is: it is basically a mixture of gelatin, sugar, and fruit.

1/4c sugar
1/2c blackberries
2T water
2t gelatin
2T water

First crush the blackberries with your newly-purchased mortar and pestle (seriously, haven't you gotten one yet?).  Put in a saucepan with the sugar and water.

Put the second 2T water in a small bowl and pour the gelatin over top.

Once the blackberry/sugar mixture is steaming, buzz them around in your food processor until uniform. Add the gelatin.

By this time, the panna cotta should have begun to set in the fridge.  Carefully (very carefully) pour the blackberry gelee over the top of the basil panna cotta.  If it looks like it's mixing in, STOP, it's not ready yet.  Leave the blackberry gelee on the countertop until the panna cotta has begun to set.  When it can stand having something on top of it, pour the gelee over top.  Allow to set for at least 2 hours.

YUM!

... for this week, our dear dear dear friend Julia will be visiting.  I think Ben is making some sort of south-of-the-border flank steak... I haven't begun thinking of what I want to have for dessert yet.  Maybe this (again)!

Creme Fraiche - I was so excited I couldn't stay on track.

Yes, dear friends, it is feast or famine with these blog posts.  BUT I JUST MADE CREME FRAICHE AND IT'S CHANGING MY WORLD... one creamy spoonful at a time.

To make, get a pint-sized mason (or ball... whatever) jar.  If you don't have any, go buy a LOT of them.  They are useful for making gifts, drinking out of (gin and tonics are our current beverage of choice), storing things, making pickles, etc.

When Ben and I first started canning, we asked family members for jars they weren't using, and I think we have somewhere around 100 jars, ranging in size from 4oz to 1G (64oz).  Whoa... that was a big distraction from my main point, which is: CREME FRAICHE.

To make it, get a pint-sized mason jar (oh yeah, now I'm back on track).
Mix equal parts heavy whipping cream and sour cream (buying these two individually is usually cheaper than buying creme fraiche at the store).  Since there are only two of us, I did 1/4c of each.

Shake in the jar to mix.  Put the lid on and leave on the counter overnight.  It will turn into an incredibly smooth, delicious treat that is slightly sweet and slightly tangy and dairy-delicious.  Refridgerate after it's overnight adventure on the countertop.

It is about the consistency of... marshmallow creme, but Ben will eat this willingly, and he looks down his nose at me every winter when I come home all excited because I finally broke down and bought a jar of that stuff to put on my hot chocolate (but, let's be honest, I mostly eat it out of the container with a spoon).  Did you know that marshmallow creme, which seems really nasty, doesn't have much in it except sugar, egg whites, and xanthan gum?

Back to the task at hand (again...).

What Should I Put it On?

I would eat it on shoe leather, but that's besides the point.

This afternoon, we ate it with fresh berries as a snack.  I bought some golden raspberries and some mulberries at the farmer's market here (which is AWESOME), and arranged a layer of goldens around the bottom, followed by mulberries, and one golden in the center.

It is also a great topping for scones or biscuits, which are probably Ben's favorite breakfast food (and he doesn't really like breakfast).

My cookbook automatically opens to this page.  I love Ben THAT much.

This is from Alice Waters' The Art of Simple Food 
1 1/2c. APF (all purpose flour)
1/4t salt
4t sugar
2t baking powder
6T (3/4 stick) cold butter, cut into small pieces
3/4HWC (heavy whipping cream - the reason I wake up most mornings)

Set your oven to 350.  Mix APF, salt, sugar, and baking powder.  Add the butter and mix with your fingers (get your hands in there, and squeeze the butter pieces flat as you mix the flour into them) until the mixture is uniform.  For the love of all things happy and holy, DO NOT use a pastry cutter.  This is why God gave you hands, friends.

(for your reading pleasure, I have put my soapboxes in italics so you can either get to cooking or be entertained, or both, more easily) Most pastry cutters live in kitchen graveyard drawers and, when they're needed, it goes like this: "Honey, have you seen the pastry cutter?"  "The what?"  "Oh... must not have one... better go buy a new one..." until the unsuspecting couple has eighteen pastry cutters and can't figure out where to find their measuring cups.  Tirade: done.  Use your hands.  

I will consent to let you pick up a wooden spoon for the next part: add the heavy cream into the flour/butter mixture.  Stir it around until it gets really hard to stir.  Flip the whole bowl upside down on the counter and smoosh it together with your fingers, kneading if you must to get the dough to come together.  It might be a little lumpy and have jaggedy edges.  Let it be.  The more you work this dough, the less light it is when you bake it.

Cut the biscuits.  I cut mine into squares because it is less messing with the dough.  Circles are fine, but the more you touch the dough, again, the less light it will be after baking.

Bake for 15-17 minutes or until the tops are lightly browned.

Ben eats these WITH BUTTER ON TOP.  It is absolutely appalling.  There is already 3/4 stick of butter in here!  As the one who typically gravitates towards fats and sugars in the relationship, I can't believe this man puts butter on - of all things - buttery biscuits.  Have I mentioned we have trouble finding pants small enough to fit him?  So perhaps this isn't so much appalling as it is amazing.  Okay, okay, yes, I am totally a hypocrite: I was advocating for you putting creme fraiche on these.  And I still do.  Before you do the Ben-Butter method, do try these with creme fraiche.  You won't be sad or sorry. I'm not either.