Good as a side dish

Last night I made a dent in the arugula pile (only a dent despite using about 10 cups of the stuff) with this recipe:
Tagliatelle with Creme Fraiche and Arugula, except I used the slightly wider Pappardelle noodle.

According to the little clipping that I found in my Savory folder, the recipe came from the famous London restaurant, The River Cafe. Right now, any recipe that calls for 10 cups of arugula gets my attention and the result? It was OK.

I think my subdued reaction to the dish came from the way I served it, as a main course--Brian and I each had a heaping plate of the noodles and also each had a whole steamed and chilled globe artichoke with garlic vinaigrette for dipping. I can imagine this being a wonderful side dish with, say, a grilled steak. The sour and bitter notes would be a great complement to the richness of a good meaty dish, but as a main course the flavors felt out of balance and I'm saying this from the perspective of one who loves sour and bitter foods.

The recipe calls for both creme fraiche and a hell of a lot of lemon juice and I thought it took the sour note too far. I'd cut the juice back from 1/2 C to 1/3 C. And after tasting the finished dish and feeling it lacked something, I stirred in a squashed clove of garlic which definitely boosted up the flavor factor and gave the dish a little depth.

So if you are looking for a pasta side for a meaty meal, I can recommend this (slightly altered) recipe:

Pappardelle with Creme Fraiche and Arugula
adapted from The River Cafe recipe, printed in some food magazine in the last year or so
Serves 6 as a side dish

1 cup creme fraiche (1 cup heavy cream with 1 T buttermilk stirred in, left out in a warm place overnight)
2 T finely grated fresh lemon zest (use your microplane grater here)
1/3 C fresh lemon juice
1 clove of garlic, chopped or pressed to a paste
12 oz dried egg Pappardelle (Trader Joe's makes a good kind)
10 cups loosely packed, coarsely chopped arugula
2 1/2 Cups of grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (again, use the microplane grater)
salt and coarse black pepper

1. Stir together creme fraiche, lemon zest, lemon juice, garlic and 1 C of grated cheese.
2. Cook Pappardelle in a big pot of salted water until al dente.
3. Drain pasta and dump into a big bowl. Stir in arugula so that it has a chance to wilt a little. Stir in the creme fraiche mixture. Taste and add salt and pepper as needed.
   
4. Top each serving with a generous amount of grated Parmigiano-Reggiano and serve as a side dish.
   

Salad days

The arugula and lettuce in my garden have been cooperating nicely/growing at an insane rate and we are up to our ears in fresh leafy greens, far too many greens to be consumed with a nightly side salad (the spinach, however, has been uncooperative. Most of the seeds didn't germinate.)

The record breaking heat this past weekend gave us the perfect excuse to usher in Salad Days. I have mentioned before that I am a great fan of the main course salad, the kind of salad you find in France listed as a Salade Compose. Top some great vegetables with a protein source and a good dressing and you have my definition of bliss-on-a-plate. Yes, I often crave this more than chocolate.

Last week I made a version of a Nicoise salad--lots of greens, cucumber, hard boiled egg, olives, radishes and blanched green beans topped by a grilled piece of albacore tuna then drizzled with a garlic red wine vinaigrette. And Monday we had (pictured above) a Vietnamese style salad with fresh mango, grilled chicken, thin rice noodles, peanuts, mint, cilantro, vidallia onion and blanched green beans topping the greens/radishes/cucumber pile; the dressing was a nuoc cham sort of concoction (I didn't have quite enough lime juice so I added a splash of rice wine vinegar).

The nicest thing about these salads is the flexibility--the Nicoise lacked potatoes and tomatoes (no potatoes in the house, no worthy tomatoes available yet). The Vietnamese salad lacked fresh basil and shallots and the mango probably shouldn't have been there. Some asparagus or sugar snap peas would have been terrific in either salad. Roasted beets would have been great to add to the Nicoise. But it didn't matter because these salads cry out for improvisation.

My next attempt to deal with the onslaught of arugula (I picked another entire shopping bag full of the stuff yesterday--yikes!) comes tonight. I have a recipe for tagliatelle with creme fraiche and arugula that looks to be a good way to use a sizeable quantity of arugula without having to eat a salad as big as a pony. Report on the success (or failure) of said dish will be coming soon.

Center Schmenter

My latest knitting related learning disability has to do with what is known as the "Center Pull Ball."

Very occasionally I've had success sticking a finger into the center of the ball and fishing out the end that is tucked inside. For you non-knitters, the reason you want this end rather than the easily accessible one on the outside has to do with ball twirlage (that's a technical term). If you use the outside end, every time you pull on the ball to advance more yarn, the ball takes off across the floor, providing much delight to cats and toddlers in the general vicinity. If you find that elusive inside end, your ball of yarn will stay where you put it and not collect all the dust bunnies under the couch as it rolls away from you.

I believe that I am uniquely disabled in my inability to find the inside end. I am further hampered in my efforts by memories of the old BBC/PBS series All Creatures Great and Small (based on the James Herriot book of the same title.) My mother hails from Yorkshire, where the series is set, so watching the show was a family requirement and we all got to know the folks at Skeldale Veterinary Surgery rather well. In particular, I have vivid memories of the actor playing James, the young Christopher Timothy, with his entire arm up a cow's or horse's birthing canal trying to help a stuck calf or foal to be born (I'm pretty sure this scene happens more than once in the series.) That's right, up to the shoulder, groping around for a grabbable part of the baby animal.

I can't shake that image from my head every time I go grabbing for the center pull yarn end.

Up to my knuckles in Patons Merino.

Unlike that talented James, what I pull forth is not what I was groping for:

Big wad of yarn. No end in sight.

It would be as though James gave a tug and pulled out the placenta and left the baby animal inside. Since no blood, organs or even living things are involved in my dilemma, I end up stuffing the wad back in and once again, resigning myself to being the great-cat-entertainer and using the outside end.

So, help me out here folks. Is there some secret to yarn end retrieval that I don't know about? Does anyone have advice or a quick and easy method to get the damn end out of the middle?

Even Healthier Muffins

We have a little trouble in our house with blood sugar fluctuations (well, not all of us. Brian seems to be able to go for hours without food and stay sane where as I very quickly become the Kate-Monster and start losing major functions--stuff like thinking and walking--when my blood sugar drops.)

Ian has inherited my blood sugar issues but not my love of food so it becomes tricky to get the right kind of foods into him to prevent the appearance of the Ian-Monster (who, believe it or not, has a louder scream than the Kate-Monster...). Recently I modified my earlier recipe for Healthy Banana Muffins to have more protein and whole grains which can help we glucose-challenged folks stay stable. Now I call them "Even Healthier Banana Chocolate Chip Muffins". They are a little darker brown than the original version but still taste damn good. And they freeze really well. After they cool, put them in a ziplock bag and shove it in the freezer. Then when you want a muffin, pop it in the microwave and nuke for about 20 seconds--this has the added benefit of making the chocolate chips all gooey.

Even Healthier Banana Chocolate Chip Muffins

1 C White whole wheat flour (King Arthur Flour makes white whole wheat)
1/2 C teff flour (Bob's Red Mill teff flour is available at Arbor Farms)
1/4 C honey or white sugar
1/4 C brown sugar
1/2 C wheat germ (I like the toasted kind)
1/2 C fine ground almonds (you can grind your own in a clean coffee grinder, or buy the Just Almond Meal from Trader Joe's)
3 t baking powder
1/2 t salt
2 medium sized bananas, mashed (3 if you want really moist, heavy muffins)
1/2 C milk
1/4 C canola oil
2 eggs
3/4 C chocolate chips

(You can also add 1/2 C dried fruit: raisins, currants, cranberries, etc. and can substitute 1/2 C ground flax seeds for the wheat germ, and also can substitute soy flour, brown rice flour or sorghum flour for any of the above flours--the recipe is very flexible and, so far, has always turned out well. I've even made these gluten-free for a friend.)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Measure dry ingredients into bowl and stir well.

Combine wet ingredients in a bowl and mix until blended.

Add wet to dry all at once, stir just until all the dry stuff is incorporated, then stir in the chocolate chips.

Spray muffin tins with non stick spray or line with papers, fill 2/3 full. For small muffins, bake 15 minutes, for big ones between 20-25 minutes.

Muffins freeze well--once cool put in ziplock bag and freeze. To eat, nuke 1 frozen muffin for 20 seconds.

Duty called

I've been sorely remiss in attending to my gelato duties. Zingerman's has been making gelato for at least a few years now and the only taste I've had of it was a wee scoop of melon gelato that came in a little prosciutto cup at a dinner at the Roadhouse (nice combo, by the way). Tonight, duty called in the form of Brian taking the kids out and no rain (it's about bloody time) so I walked down to Zingerman's and tried their gelato for the first time.

This is what remains:

I thought about tearing the paper cup open and licking the residual drips, but I was walking home through my neighborhood at the time and decided that maintaining some facade of sanity would be a good thing. Don't want to be known as the neighborhood paper-licker.

I tried the Chocolate Heat: a dense dark chocolate base with fragrant cinnamon mixed in. It was very good--perfect texture and temperature, not overwhelming in the creaminess department, strong punch of flavor. My only critique is that it says that this gelato contains a little cayenne and ancho chile powders which were so faint as to be undetectable. Were I the gelato mix-master, I would up the heat factor so that it would more closely resemble my darling Vosges Red Fire chocolate bar (and my imitative spicy hot chocolate).

The flavors available are limited; also in stock at the deli today were lemon, raspberry, coconut, chocolate, vanilla, and hazelnut. I'd like to try the Cajeta (goat milk caramel and cinnamon) and burnt sugar flavors which I'm hoping they have regularly at the Creamery; the other two flavors that tempt me (ginger and espresso) are sadly not available until the autumn. I'm also hoping that there are other flavors that appear occasionally that aren't listed on their webpage (like that scoop of melon gelato). I'd love to see a peach gelato (yes, I can wait until August when Red Haven peaches are in season) since one of my fondest memories of Italy involves eating peach gelato on a Ligurian beach at sunset. I'd also like to see added to their standard flavor line up some of the Italian regulars like Stracciatella (chocolate chip) and Torrone (honey nougat).

For you local folks, Zingerman's Creamery website has some gelato dates to note:

June 3--opening day of gelato season and free mini-cones at the Creamery. Bring the small people! (Kids love small cones. Kids love big cones, too.)
Every Wednesday--buy 2 get 1 free gelato.
Every Sunday--free tours of the Creamery.

For the last item, any food-obsessed local friends want to meet up for a tour some upcoming Sunday? Remember, it is more fun to groan about the pleasures of abundant butterfat with friendly witnesses who can mock you later.

Green

We are on what feels like day 300 of perpetual rain here. (Note: if I had wanted perpetual rain, I would have moved to the Northwest where you can counter your lousy mood with lots of fresh seafood.) Beneath the dripping sky is a very, very green world. We haven't been able to mow the lawn in about two weeks since the grass is too wet and Fiona suggested that we tie the larger clumps of grass into pony tails--a new look in landscaping.

On a more positive note, last Thursday my bookgroup got together for our green meal to discuss our green book, Wicked.

First the food, since good food and drink always loosens the tongue. (I am amazed when people tell me they have book groups where there isn't food or alcohol--Whhhaaaaa?)

We started off with Lea's cheesy warm artichoke dip.

Garlicy, gooey, yum, yum, more.

Then we moved to the table and had Jen's beautiful asparagus soup. Jen has long claimed that she can't cook which we now all realize was just a confidence issue. The soup was excellent--velvety, warm and comforting on a chilly damp day.

Then we loaded our plates with Sarah's spinach pasta with pesto, Marilyn's salad with avocado and asparagus and bread flecked with (green) rosemary.
And to wash it down, those of us not on powerful antibiotics (sigh) drank a good deal of wine (in a green bottle, of course).

Sarah, looking thoughtful. Drink up, Sarah!

For dessert I made a key lime pie with whipped cream. Ok, so key limes are yellow, but I didn't have the heart to add food coloring to it.

And now, the book. There were a number of expressions of frustration about the book. I think we all agreed that the first half, from childhood until Elphaba finishes college was very compelling and that after that the book lost focus. The second half didn't measure up to the promise of the first half, in part because the most interesting relationship in the book is between Elphaba and Galinda and Galinda hardly makes an appearance in the second half.

I can't understand why a good editor didn't advise Maguire to limit the story to the two witches in their college days. There were so many elements, particularly in the second half, that were undeveloped, as though the author was trying to examine way too many themes, many of which he would mention and then drop. It seems to me that the contemplation of the nature of good and evil is a complex enough topic to demand complete attention, without lots of side topics to distract the reader. This left us with lots of head scratching--what the heck was the Yackel character about? She kept popping up which makes one think her appearance must be significant, but why she was there was never clear. And all the dragon references (was Elphaba supposed to be part dragon somehow, even though the book implies she is the Wizard's daughter?) were pointing towards something, but exactly what, I can't say.

So on a global examination of the book, people enjoyed reading it, but were pretty frustrated with the decisions the author made. I think that some of the pleasure was on a paragraph level--even if it had nothing to do with the trajectory of the book, there are some ideas and emotions that are really well expressed. It is just a pity that they didn't serve the plot better. We found ourselves looking up favorite lines and picking through scenes, which makes for great conversation and once again, found that a flawed book (though not a horrible book like The News From Paraguay which everyone wanted to forget as soon as possible) can yield an excellent discussion.

Jen, in one of her moments of dry wit, drew our attention to the following sentence which is about Elphaba and her group of friends at college.

"Perhaps every accidental cluster of people has a short period of grace, in between the initial shyness and prejudice on the one hand and eventual repugnance and betrayal on the other." (p.146)

We all looked at each other. Our book group has been together now for almost 6 years--are we on the brink of repugnance and betrayal? Thank god, no! So we poured another glass of wine, ate some pie and relaxed into the comfort of each other's company.

I may have pneumonia but...

I finally went to the doctor yesterday after 13 days of low fever and 4 days of a cough so horrific that I though a piece of my lung would come flying out of my mouth at any moment. She said my lungs were "rattling" and I have pneumonia. But hey, severe coughs are terrific toners for any floppy abdominal muscles you may have! I may have pneumonia but I now also have abs of steel! And a husband who makes me sleep in one of the kids' beds until my cough stops sounding like a dog barking in his ear all night long. I have come to realize that Thomas the Tank engine sheets are about as soft as sandpaper. Never noticed that before!

To continue in this vein, I may have pneumonia but I managed to finish the back of the red sweater last night while watching Lost:

A vast field of red, guarded by the mandatory toy robot...

Yes, actual knitting content! I haven't looked too closely (because denial is a big word in my life) but I think that all the cables are twisting the correct direction. If they aren't well, this is the back of the sweater so at least I won't have to look at any goof ups. Whoever gets stuck standing behind me in a line can amuse themselves counting errors. When it came time to cast on for the front, I couldn't remember which size I was making because, despite the proliferation of many instruments of writing in this house, I neglected yet again to circle the size I decided on when I began. So I had to count across the stitches a few times until I was cross eyed. Seed stitch combined with Codeine does funny things to the brain.

Also, I may have pneumonia but I managed to squeeze the juice out of this pile of wee citrus today:

Now that's a lot of little limes.

My book group is meeting tonight. I may have pneumonia but I'll be damned if I miss a good book group meeting, even if my appetite is pretty pathetic and I can't drink with the antibiotics I'm taking. This month we read Wicked so we're having an all-green dinner in honor of Elphaba, the main character. I'm determined to remember to bring my camera tonight, so photos of the spread and some commentary on the book will appear tomorrow. Or the day after (after all, if you didn't hear me say it already, I have pneumonia so I may cut myself a rest day).

Corn People

In an attempt to appeal to my incredible picky eater son, we have been having food-theme days. I try not to bitch too much about my kid's general suspicion and dislike for most foods since I figure this is my cosmic payback for my regular sin of gluttony. But I also can't just stand by while he passes up the pleasures of many a fine kid-friendly food (I'm not crazy enough to, say, plan on having "Mackerel Day!") So I've had to get a little creative.

Last week we had Corn Day and the end result was that Ian discovered he loves corn on the cob! I know, corn is only barely a vegetable (actually it is a grass...) but we are working on versatility more than just nutrition. To get to this point required a good deal of extra work on my behalf.

First we had to dig through the house and find as many directly corn-based foods. (I'm reading The Omnivore's Dilemma right now and the first section describes how Americans are corn people since pretty much every meat and processed food we eat is dependent on some corn based product. But for the purpose of Corn Day, I thought we'd stick to the recognizable ones.) We found canned corn, corn chips, corn meal, crunchy dried corn, frozen corn and some fresh corn on the cob that he helped me pick out the day before at the store.

Since my picky eater is also a reluctant writer (though not a reluctant reader, thank god), we did some corn-themed writing practice. He wrote "Today is Corn Day" and other such relevant sentences. He drew a picture of some corn in a bowl. We sampled some corn products throughout the day, but the culmination (and great success) came at night.

We took our corn on the cob out on the deck to shuck it. The kids helped pull the husks and silk off of the cobs and then before attempting the eating portion of the evening, we made a Native American-style corn husk doll.
(Instructions here; one is supposed to used dried corn husks rather than fresh because by the next day our doll had dried a bit and was pretty loose limbed. But making the doll with the husks of the corn they just shucked themselves holds a pretty big appeal for the small people).

Here she is in the hands of the gentler child:
After Fiona got hold of her she lost a lot of her corn-silk hair and her arms were yanked from side to side until they were dramatically different lengths.

Doll dismemberment in progress...

I proposed to take the shucked corn inside and give it a quick boil to cook it. But the kids decided that before I cooked it they should see what it tastes like raw. Ian took a tentative little bite:
and declared it delicious! Fiona was much more energetic in her corn attack. Here she is getting some good leverage on the cob:
and here is the end of that bite:
I think she has a future in baseball if we practice on enough corn cobs.

Both were eating the raw corn so enthusiastically that I couldn't pry it out of their paws to cook it. And since it seemed like a waste to boil water for just my cob, we all sat outside and ate it raw. It was surprisingly good corn for this time of year--a little starchy due to the raw state, but very, very sweet. The next day we tried cooked corn on the cob and they liked that too.

Now I'm wracking my brains about what other food "themed" day (or days) we can come up with. I'm thinking that a pea week would be good--I've planted my peas in my garden and when they are close to being ready to pick we could do a week of pea themed activities. Since Ian is so into science, I thought we could read about Gregor Mendel's principles of genetics that he figured out with pea plants. Ian has already been asking about dominant and recessive traits (why he has blue eyes and Fiona has brown, for example) so this could appeal to him. We could also do some seed sprouting so he can watch the seed turn into a plant. Whether this will actually get him to eat a fresh pea is questionable, but I'm sure as hell hoping that making the food theme into more than just eating will help.

Now, anyone have ideas of things I can do with strawberries?

Kitchen gadgety gift suggestions

My old high-school friend Scott asked for a little advice about purchasing a kitchen gadget for his wife (well, for his kids to give his wife for Mother's Day--three kids, three gadgets, lucky woman) and since I lost his e-mail address somehow (I thought my e-mail program automatically copied addressees into my contacts list but apparently not...Oops) and figure there may be some other folks looking to please a kitchen-gadget obsessed woman on Sunday May 16th, here are a few recommendations.

These are pretty simple things, folks. I have plenty of stuff that takes up a lot of room in the kitchen and gets used once or twice a year.

Here are some of my favorites:
A Microplane zester. These are the best citrus zesters/nutmeg graters/Parmesan cheese shredders bar none. The Parmesan in particular ends up so fine and light it is like eating Parmesan clouds.

Make sure you get the one with the handle. As the blade easily removes the top most layer of skin of a lemon, so it will remove the top most layer of skin of a human. And if you plan to have your toddler present this to the fortunate woman (seeing a lethal object in the hands of a baby is always a fine way to get mom's attention) wrap the blade part for God's sake and make sure she knows to unwrap it carefully! Mother's Day + Emergency Room = No Fun


An Oxo Mixing bowl. I know, you already have mixing bowls. I have two stainless steel, and a set of those fun glass ones that fit inside each other and range in volume from about a tablespoon to big enough to bathe a reasonable sized infant. And I use them all. But last year I went out and bought myself one of these bowls for two reasons: 1) It has a spout and as I was (and still am) obsessed with making ice cream I was having a hell of a time transferring custard from the bowl into the small freezer canister of the ice cream maker. Much of the custard would end up on the counter or trickling down the sides of the canister and much swearing would ensue. This bowl's diminutive spout makes it a piece of cake. 2) It has a rubber bottom (sounds kind of kinky--yes?) and a handle which makes this the bowl I reach for when I cook with the kids. Three year olds are very good at stirring. They stir so well that sometimes the bowl flies off the counter. We have a much better chance of having the ingredients stay in the vicinity of the countertop if I use this bowl.


Tongs. You can never have too many pairs of tongs. I am a particular fan of these Robinson self-locking tongs since they only take one hand to release the lock (some tongs require the hand not holding the tongs to reach over and press or pull something to unlock them--usually when I use tongs, my other hand is occupied holding a platter, or on good days, a glass of wine). I only have one pair and since Brian doesn't read this blog (probably to protect his sanity since he may already suspect he married a nut-case and doesn't want further proof) I'm going to have to hint heavily that I need another pair of tongs for Mother's Day. My method will probably involve the use of tongs as a pinching tool to get his attention. I use my tongs pretty much every day and often have to wash them three or four times just to make one meal (after you have used them to, say, put raw chicken on the grill DON'T FOR GOD'S SAKE use them to stack the corn on the cob on a platter without washing them in between! Or buy two or more pairs and save yourself the hassle.)


Silicon spatulas. Do you remember the white rubber spatulas of your youth? Man, did they taste nasty. As a child devoted to licking out the bowl after my mom had made cake or cookie batter I have a real hatred of those damn spatulas. You'd get a lovely lick of say, lemon cake batter, and then the taste of nasty rubber would come through and ruin it. I am happy to say that my children need not suffer the hardships that I endured (cue violins). Silicon spatulas are terrific. The examples pictured at left are by Le Creuset and are reasonably priced and so cheerful in kiwi-green, but it seems everyone makes them these days. In addition to no nasty taste, these spatulas can be used to stir stuff on the stove since they can take heat up to something like 600 degrees. That makes them very useful for getting into the corners of pans (where a wood spoon can't reach) and keeping sauces or custard from sticking.

Here's to hoping that these 4 suggestions are useful--if you happen to already own all of the above, allow me to complement you on your good taste! Or drop me a line and I can always come up with a second tier of fun and/or useful gadgets to recommend (does mom like beer? Get her a Homer Simpson talking beer bottle opener!)

Muddled

I recently finished Allegra Goodman's newest novel, Intuition. I can't quite figure out what it was about the book that made me feel a degree of reserve while reading it. I've read and enjoyed two of her other novels, Kaaterskill Falls, and The Family Markowitz, but I found that the character in this novel about whom I was supposed to care the most, a research scientist named Marion, was a void. I think she was supposed to be the ethical center of a novel that has to do with the politics of scientific research but by the end of the book I still could not picture the woman.

Marion is supposed to love research and two other pivotal characters, Cliff and Robin, come to the realization that the process of research is what they love, rather than the thrill of important results. But despite three characters professing this love, all I felt about the time spent in their laboratory was tedium. It has been a number of years since I spent time with experimental mice, but this did not make me want to rush back to that world.

Time for a big digression here: the year after I graduated from undergrad with a degree in English, the only job I could find was working in a lab out in Berkeley that was doing quality assurance potency testing of the Botulism toxin (why they hired me, I'll never know). We got FDA approval while I was there, which meant counting a hell of a lot of mouse bodies on my part to know the kill-rate of different toxicities. Then I got to use regression analysis and graph each batch. Eventually this toxin was used to help people with eye spasms who were effectively blind and the toxin would paralyze the spasming muscles. It also has been used on people like radio host Diane Rehm whose vocal style is the result of spasms in her vocal chords. But hey, why stop with fluttering eyelids and vocal chords? Right before I left to go back to grad school the wee little company headed by a doctor not entirely unlike the character of Sandy in this book (charismatic, good hearted, rich as shit with the annual staff picnic held at his winery in Napa), was sold to Allergan and TA DA they marketed it as Botox. So if you are curious why say, Nicole Kidman has no facial expression any more, well, thanks in part to my injecting mice in the butt with botulism, she has paralyzed her wrinkle-causing facial muscles.

Ok enough of the Botox primer, back to the book. Goodman has said that the book is about belief and I can see this being nicely developed between the different characters' desires. Cliff wants to believe he can cure breast cancer and thus disregards his faulty data, Robin doesn't believe that Cliff is capable of such a discovery. Kate wants to believe that Cliff is the heroic scientist. And there is a layer of Judaic belief (and doubt) expressed by many of the characters. That's all well and good, but rather than having this exploration of the desire to believe be the focus, I felt that the book turned into a "did he or didn't he" fake his data question? And I just didn't think that question was so interesting--either he did or he didn't but unfortunately I didn't care enough about any of the characters to worry about the repercussions. Don't you really need to care if Marion's lab will come crashing down if it turns out Cliff fudged his data? Most of the people in the lab were so miserable that it felt like more of a blessing when much of it dissolved. Do I think this is the happy ending that Goodman intended? Beats the hell out of me.

And the title--it really comes down to the two main women characters, Marion and Robin, suspecting the men of either intentional or unintentional wrongdoing. I couldn't help thinking that maybe I would care more about their intuition if it wasn't about data.

I can see a lot of what Goodman was trying to do, and this is still a much better written book that many I've read, but did it make scientific research a compelling subject for a non-scientist? I can only say, not for me.