Sunday, February 13, 2011

A Valentine's Potato


humble potato:
crispy mashed fried baked scalloped
heroic tuber

Consider the above haiku my Valentine's Day gift to all of you. This February 14th, I'm happy to report that the love of my thus-far 2011 life is none other than the humble potato. Unpretentious, dependable, and always delicious, the potatoes in my life have been quietly playing second banana to my roasts, chickens, and pork loins. Until now. Now, my ski-bum budget has all-but-eliminated tender cuts of meat from my diet, and my
 favourite tuber has become the carb-loaded après ski snack of choice. Often, it is the star of (or only) component of my suppers and lunches. Don't worry, I'm taking multi-vitamins to ward off the scurvy.


Garth, my sister's boyfriend, knows we Selkirk sisters love potatoes. With that in mind, he lovingly picked out my Christmas gift from the thrift store. I didn't mention it in my Christmas Gift Awards because I
knew it deserved it's own post.
A Microwave French Fries Maker.
Even the name of it sounds wrong. Let's venture into the etymology of "french fries", shall we? See, they have something to do with the French, and more importantly are fried. Meaning, delicately bathed in oil. Lovingly simmered in fat. Not microed, and certainly not waved.

But that's okay, right? It's the 21st century. Innovations have been made. This might be one of them. I'm too young to live in fear of new technology. Let's microwave some French fries!

Step 1: Open box. Look! It comes with a warning: "DO NOT USE FROZEN FRENCH FRIES AS MOST OF THEM MAY CONTAIN OILS AND FATS." It's in all caps, so you know they mean business. We certainly wouldn't want oils and fats contaminating our potatoes! I know when I choose fries, I don't hope they contain oils and fats, I want it guaranteed! But we'll try it your way, microwave fries maker.
Step 2: The chosen victim/specially selected potato
Peeled and sliced appropriately.

Seasoned according to my tastes, which means a healthy dose of both salt and seasoning salt.

Distributed in the specially designed microwave tray that is going to simulate a deep fryer (ha).
Eight wildly-anticipated minutes later, the "fries" are done. Look! They're the same colour as before they went in the microwave. That's the sign of a perfect fry! Pasty white!
Taste verdict: These were delicious! So good, I think I'm going to try roasting a chicken in the microwave next week -- à la 1988!

Reviews of the rest of the household:


Chris: "Hmm....interesting."

Garth: "These are like rubber"
Roxanne: "I never knew a potato could taste like this." Which was followed shortly by "I think that was the first potato I didn't like". 
The finished product.
Yes, these were a horrific travesty. Although they still tasted vaguely like a potato should, they were chewy, squishy, dry (but not crispy), and truly lacking any redeeming quality that an actual French fry has. After they had cooled down, they firmed up to be the texture of something I can only compare to licorice. They were, however, surprisingly flexible, and if potatoes had the Olympics these would surely Michael-Phelps the gymnastics portion.
I know the true sign of a good fry is that when you can bend it in half and the skin doesn't even break.

Yes! Potato face!

The final resting place.


Post Script: I'm dedicating this blog entry to B. L., a ski bum who is rather unfortunately allergic to potatoes, but will be lucky enough make it through life without ever having to eat a microwaved French fry.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Supporting the Habit

Although the ski bum life may come cheap, it certainly doesn't come free. I know many of you have been wondering how I've managed to support myself this far. Whether you're taking notes on how you too can be a ski bum, or just concerned that I can't afford the necessary foods to ward of the scurvy, I'm here to share my secrets!

To no one's surprise, my
stint working for minimum wage housekeeping didn't last long. I upgraded to two other housekeeping jobs that [barely] pay more. Here's a summary of my work life:

Job 1: Housekeeping at a Bed and Breakfast

I work at a b&b a few times a week. When I read th advertisement suggesting it was perfect for "overqualified" ski bums, I knew I had to make the call. The entire staff is composed of ski bums from around the world, and I'm the token Canadian. Most days I do typical housekeeping tasks, and more exciting things like ice chipping, snow shovelling, and hot tub testing. I also perform quaint, old-timey tasks like hauling firewood and sw
eeping off porches.


After one of my first shifts at the B&B, I received a bonus of one black banana and half a loaf of expired bread! It was then I knew that this is what quality jobs are about. It's not about the money -- it's about the perks. Since then, I've received several more blackened bananas, which I resourcefully turned into banana bread. Other bonuses:
- a mostly un-eaten jar of pickles
- an entire block of unopened Safeway brand marble cheese (that was a good day)
- half an onion
- leftover chinese food (what meat is this?)
- two pounds of frozen rhubarb
- as many free used bars of soap as I want!

Job 2: Events Volunteer

This job has the best perk on the list. The perk is that I get a free season's pass to the hill, which also comes with all the staff discounts and parties. The catch is I have to work for free. One-hundred hours over the season. The work isn't steady, it comes in waves associated with big events like the Canadian Freeski Championships. The waves of work are really convienent because they allow me to work nearly full time for a week while being paid nothing at all, and therefore still remaining completely broke. Not to mention the lack of skiing that comes with all that work!


Hard at work carrying lunches up the chair lift!


Job 3: Housekeeping for the Rich and Famous

Okay, so I may not be housekeeping for the famous, but I definitely am for the rich. I frequent condos on the hill, and mansions in the country. Doctors, dentists, Americans that commute from Seattle, and in general, people who make more money than I'll ever see.


Sadly, this job has yet to yield any bonuses of black bananas or partially used produce, but I have learned that most people who pay to have their houses cleaned have pretty clean houses already.

One day, while cleaning an American-owned country mansion, I overheard the lady of household enter and ask where "the cleaner" was located. Cue mini-crisis. I am not "the cleaner". I am "Rachel", the "ski bum", who is cleaning "your house" as a means to an end of supporting my "alternative lifestyle" while shirking the responsibilities normally associated with "being an adult." And then it hit me: at some point, a temporary job becomes a permanent job, and what was once "just for now" turns into your career. I certainly don't want to be a career housekeeper, which brings me to my next job:


Job 4: Internet Freelancing


You may have gathered from reading this blog that I enjoy writing. Some of you, dear readers, have told me that I write well, and that led me to see if I could make some money out of a hobby.


Enter internet freelancing. I found a website that posts jobs, that as a provider I can bid on. The client picks the provider after the bidding period is over. It's simple, albeit time-consuming, to search for jobs. There's a lot of crap out there. Here are some examples of common job postings:

- Please write a 3000 word essay on [insert college paper topic here]. I need this done in 24 hours.
- I need someone to write product reviews and post them on amazon. I will pay you $2/hour.
- Please make 200 postings in forums, all from different email addresses.

Needless to say, some of it is sketchy and/or horribly mundane. That being said, I've found some good jobs and have probably made about $500 bucks since November. Some of the things I've done:

- travel articles
- composing multiple choice tests
- internet groupon-like write ups

My latest gig has me acting as a personal matchmaker. I'm not kidding. There is a millionaire who finds managing online dating accounts much too time consuming just to weed through all the responses and find the ones he's interested in. Based on his specific criteria, I sift through the online offerings and alert him when there's a good one. Our household was quite divided on the ethical appropriateness of doing this, but I couldn't resist applying for the job, and now I just hope no one accidentally finds out I've been browsing sugardaddie.com or other sites "for the rich and attractive".

This is me. Sort of.