I mentioned it recently, but I have a bit of an opinion about valid units of measure. Specifically, I am a fan of the metric system when it comes to temperature. As I mentioned in that post, a system that tells me that the temperature is "negative four degrees" is much better at explaining that it is flippin' cold than one that tells me the temperature is "twenty four degrees." The negative sign matters.
Now, as soon as I mentally conceded that the metric system made a ton of sense for temperature, I immediately started thinking that it probably makes sense for other units, as well. I mean, if I'm going to apply the whole "this just makes sense" standard to the ambient temperature, it makes sense to think about mass, volume, and length in the same general way. Why force people to remember that there are sixteen ounces in a pound? Or that, more confusingly, there are eight fluid ounces in a cup? The conversion rates just seem arbitrary at that point (don't even get me started on the fact that one mile is equal to 5280 feet).
However, for all that I have an opinion on the matter, I can't single-handedly change what the rest of the country does. It's not like the local grocery store is suddenly going to sell me milk or juice in liters. Those items come packaged the way they do, which is decidedly not in metric measurements. This, incidentally, leads me to what sparked the idea for this blog post: measurements in recipes.
Ultimately, I am at the mercy of what the recipe author deems the appropriate measurement. If the recipe calls for a dash of salt, then I have to try my level best to make sure my dash is the same as the author's. Hell, they could write that you need to add a boot's worth of rice, and I'd have to play along. It's their recipe, and if I'm following it, it's because I am trusting that they know what they're doing, strange measurements notwithstanding.
The latest case where this applied was actually with the Mild Wife. She had made granola and I had really liked it, so she was showing me the recipe. She figured that it was a simple enough thing to make, and that if I knew the ingredients, I could make it myself. At one point, she needed peanut butter. How much peanut butter, you ask? "About a knife-ful" Yes, you read that correctly. The measurement is roughly how much peanut butter fits on a knife. As you can imagine, that is not exactly a precise measurement.
To be fair, there is a very good reason for this: we buy the kind of peanut butter where the oil separates from the rest of it if you let it sit. It's a tiny bit more expensive than some of the other brands, but we've found that we like the flavor a bit more that way. This means that whenever you want to use some peanut butter, it's a good idea to mix it up a bit. Essentially, we re-incorporate the oil into the peanut butter, so that it comes out tasting delicious. That's where the knife comes in; it's a very handy tool for this mixing operation.
In order to be efficient, the Mild Wife uses the same knife to both mix the peanut butter and then scoop some out. I totally understand why this is a sane course of action. Heck, it's not just sane, it's efficient. Normally, this is precisely the sort of optimization that I cheer on. The only downside, of course, is that you have to measure in units of knife-edge. And since the Mild Wife knows my stance on proper units for temperature, she understood full well why I cracked up about "one knife-ful of peanut butter."
Still, I did see what she added, so if you ever want some granola, I can hook you up. All I need is a knife.
Now, as soon as I mentally conceded that the metric system made a ton of sense for temperature, I immediately started thinking that it probably makes sense for other units, as well. I mean, if I'm going to apply the whole "this just makes sense" standard to the ambient temperature, it makes sense to think about mass, volume, and length in the same general way. Why force people to remember that there are sixteen ounces in a pound? Or that, more confusingly, there are eight fluid ounces in a cup? The conversion rates just seem arbitrary at that point (don't even get me started on the fact that one mile is equal to 5280 feet).
However, for all that I have an opinion on the matter, I can't single-handedly change what the rest of the country does. It's not like the local grocery store is suddenly going to sell me milk or juice in liters. Those items come packaged the way they do, which is decidedly not in metric measurements. This, incidentally, leads me to what sparked the idea for this blog post: measurements in recipes.
Ultimately, I am at the mercy of what the recipe author deems the appropriate measurement. If the recipe calls for a dash of salt, then I have to try my level best to make sure my dash is the same as the author's. Hell, they could write that you need to add a boot's worth of rice, and I'd have to play along. It's their recipe, and if I'm following it, it's because I am trusting that they know what they're doing, strange measurements notwithstanding.
The latest case where this applied was actually with the Mild Wife. She had made granola and I had really liked it, so she was showing me the recipe. She figured that it was a simple enough thing to make, and that if I knew the ingredients, I could make it myself. At one point, she needed peanut butter. How much peanut butter, you ask? "About a knife-ful" Yes, you read that correctly. The measurement is roughly how much peanut butter fits on a knife. As you can imagine, that is not exactly a precise measurement.
To be fair, there is a very good reason for this: we buy the kind of peanut butter where the oil separates from the rest of it if you let it sit. It's a tiny bit more expensive than some of the other brands, but we've found that we like the flavor a bit more that way. This means that whenever you want to use some peanut butter, it's a good idea to mix it up a bit. Essentially, we re-incorporate the oil into the peanut butter, so that it comes out tasting delicious. That's where the knife comes in; it's a very handy tool for this mixing operation.
In order to be efficient, the Mild Wife uses the same knife to both mix the peanut butter and then scoop some out. I totally understand why this is a sane course of action. Heck, it's not just sane, it's efficient. Normally, this is precisely the sort of optimization that I cheer on. The only downside, of course, is that you have to measure in units of knife-edge. And since the Mild Wife knows my stance on proper units for temperature, she understood full well why I cracked up about "one knife-ful of peanut butter."
Still, I did see what she added, so if you ever want some granola, I can hook you up. All I need is a knife.
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