todayiamadaisy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
todayiamadaisy) wrote2012-07-20 11:03 pm
todayiamadaisy) wrote2012-07-20 11:03 pm
Entry tags:
The Devil in Love
I bought a purple cauliflower the other day. It causes quite a disconnect when I'm eating it, because it's so... purple, but tastes just like cauliflower. Tonight, I baked a couple of florets with olive oil, lemon juice and chilli, and it came out pink. Hot pink cauliflower! I imagine it was some sort of reaction to the lemon juice? It tasted all right.
Today I bought a train ticket on-line for the first time. It's like living in the future! Only they don't let you print the ticket. I have to take the order number to the station, where a ticket will be issued to me, which seems to defeat the purpose of buying it on-line.
This week's random word:
12. Marjoram
Well, now. Marjoram is part of the family Origanum, and so is related to oregano. It turns out what I call marjoram is also known as sweet marjoram, and what I call oregano is also known as wild marjoram. So there we go. The name comes from the Middle English word marjorane, which comes from the Mediaeval Latin marjorana, which is a variant of majoraca, an alteration of the original Latin amāracus, which comes from the Greek word amā́rakos, which means... marjoram. So that's quite a nice little circle.
This is what my herb book has to say about marjoram:
Sweet marjoram was introduced into Europe in the Middle Ages and was in demand by ladies 'to put in nosegays, sweet bags and sweet washing waters'. Its leaves were also rubbed over heavy oak furniture and floors to give a fragrant polish. In thundery weather, dairymaids would place marjoram by pails of fresh milk in the curious belief that this plant would preserve its sweetness. This task might well have been followed by marjoram tea—advised by the herbalist, Gerard, for those who 'are given to overmuch sighing'.
Also, you can make a strong infusion to use as a hair conditioner.
Next week: cowpuncher. Apparently that's a word. Lucky 13, hey.
I've just worked out what to do for next week's word. I'm looking forward to it.
Today I bought a train ticket on-line for the first time. It's like living in the future! Only they don't let you print the ticket. I have to take the order number to the station, where a ticket will be issued to me, which seems to defeat the purpose of buying it on-line.
This week's random word:
12. Marjoram
Well, now. Marjoram is part of the family Origanum, and so is related to oregano. It turns out what I call marjoram is also known as sweet marjoram, and what I call oregano is also known as wild marjoram. So there we go. The name comes from the Middle English word marjorane, which comes from the Mediaeval Latin marjorana, which is a variant of majoraca, an alteration of the original Latin amāracus, which comes from the Greek word amā́rakos, which means... marjoram. So that's quite a nice little circle.
This is what my herb book has to say about marjoram:
Sweet marjoram was introduced into Europe in the Middle Ages and was in demand by ladies 'to put in nosegays, sweet bags and sweet washing waters'. Its leaves were also rubbed over heavy oak furniture and floors to give a fragrant polish. In thundery weather, dairymaids would place marjoram by pails of fresh milk in the curious belief that this plant would preserve its sweetness. This task might well have been followed by marjoram tea—advised by the herbalist, Gerard, for those who 'are given to overmuch sighing'.
Also, you can make a strong infusion to use as a hair conditioner.
Next week: cowpuncher. Apparently that's a word. Lucky 13, hey.
I've just worked out what to do for next week's word. I'm looking forward to it.