I went to the local Goodwill this morning and bought two pair of dress pants (for future job prospects) and one pair of shorts (I didn't have ANY) for 6 dollars because they were all off the clearance rack.
I had to try on a few different ones this morning, but I have one of the pairs on now, and they're comfy and nice for working. I figure I'll get a few more in a few different dark shades and I should be covered. A week's worth would do.
Meanwhile, not much else going on. Will get back to you all if something actually happens.
Ta,
Bec
30.4.12
26.4.12
Cake Again
I had buttermilk left over from last week's failed chocolate Italian Cream Cake (not too impressed, really) and so I decided to find a gluten-free version of the white version I've already decided (if it ever happens, ha ha ha) will be one of my wedding cakes (the other cake from two weeks ago is going to be the other.)
And so I found one. The cakes came out looking so beautiful and perfect my mother commented that they had to taste absolutely terrible, and for once she was wrong. Save for a little texture difference, this cake came out absolutely like the regular version of this cake.
I modified it slightly-I do not have the original recipe's mix of GF flours and I used GF baking mixes as a substitute (I had a half-cup of Bob's Red Mill and a cup of Fearn Brown Rice Baking Mix because I ran out of the first one.) I omitted the xanthan gum, because it's an expensive ingredient and I've found it usually isn't necessary. I substituted walnuts for pecans because that's what I had on hand, and I haven't made the frosting because I'm taking one of my 8 inch cakes and freezing it so that I can have some when I want some, frosting doesn't freeze well, and the second is currently covered in leftover frosting my mother had in the fridge.
http://www.northtexasgig.com/recipes/savorysweets/gfitaliancream.htm
Here's the recipe as I had it. The original link is listed above for those who want to see where I changed things. Have fun!
Gluten-Free Italian Cream Cake
1/3 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup sugar
2 large eggs, room temperature, separated
1- 1/2 cup gluten-free flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon coconut extract
1/4 cup finely chopped toasted pecans
Frosting:
8 oz cream cheese, room temperature
1/2 cup butter, room temperature
2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1 teaspoon vanilla
Pecans and/or toasted coconut for decoration
Place a rack in the middle of the oven. Preheat to 325 degrees. Generously grease two 8″ or 9″ cake pans and line the bottom with parchment paper or wax. Grease again, set aside (I didn't use parchment paper but I greased my pans liberally. The cakes slid out beautifully with very little effort.)
To make the cake: In a large mixing bowl, beat the butter with an electric mixer on medium speed until creamy and smooth. Gradually beat in the sugar until smooth. Add the egg yolks, one at a time, beating well after each addition.
In another bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. In a measuring cup, whisk together the buttermilk, vanilla and coconut extract.
With the mixer on low speed, beat the flour into the egg mixture, alternating with the buttermilk, ending with the flour. Add the pecans, scrape down the sides of the bowl, and beat just until smooth.
In a clean large bowl with clean beaters, beat the egg whites on high speed until stiff peaks form. Fold the egg whites into the batter and spread the batter evenly in the pans.
Bake for 30 to 35 minutes or until the tops of the cake are golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Cool the cakes in the pans for 10-15 minutes on a wire rack. Remove the cakes from the pan, discard the paper and cool completely on a wire rack.
Make the Frosting:
Beat the cream cheese and butter in a medium bowl with an electric mixer on medium speed until smooth and creamy. Gradually beat in the powdered sugar on low speed. Add the vanilla and beat well. Taste and adjust according to desired sweetness, adding more sifted powdered sugar if needed.
Place 1 cake layer, topside down, on a serving plate; spread with one-third of the frosting. Top with the other cake layer, topside up. Spread remaining frosting evenly over the top and sides of the cake. Garnish with coconut and pecans as desired.
Ta,
Bec
And so I found one. The cakes came out looking so beautiful and perfect my mother commented that they had to taste absolutely terrible, and for once she was wrong. Save for a little texture difference, this cake came out absolutely like the regular version of this cake.
I modified it slightly-I do not have the original recipe's mix of GF flours and I used GF baking mixes as a substitute (I had a half-cup of Bob's Red Mill and a cup of Fearn Brown Rice Baking Mix because I ran out of the first one.) I omitted the xanthan gum, because it's an expensive ingredient and I've found it usually isn't necessary. I substituted walnuts for pecans because that's what I had on hand, and I haven't made the frosting because I'm taking one of my 8 inch cakes and freezing it so that I can have some when I want some, frosting doesn't freeze well, and the second is currently covered in leftover frosting my mother had in the fridge.
http://www.northtexasgig.com/recipes/savorysweets/gfitaliancream.htm
Here's the recipe as I had it. The original link is listed above for those who want to see where I changed things. Have fun!
Gluten-Free Italian Cream Cake
1/3 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup sugar
2 large eggs, room temperature, separated
1- 1/2 cup gluten-free flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon coconut extract
1/4 cup finely chopped toasted pecans
Frosting:
8 oz cream cheese, room temperature
1/2 cup butter, room temperature
2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1 teaspoon vanilla
Pecans and/or toasted coconut for decoration
Place a rack in the middle of the oven. Preheat to 325 degrees. Generously grease two 8″ or 9″ cake pans and line the bottom with parchment paper or wax. Grease again, set aside (I didn't use parchment paper but I greased my pans liberally. The cakes slid out beautifully with very little effort.)
To make the cake: In a large mixing bowl, beat the butter with an electric mixer on medium speed until creamy and smooth. Gradually beat in the sugar until smooth. Add the egg yolks, one at a time, beating well after each addition.
In another bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. In a measuring cup, whisk together the buttermilk, vanilla and coconut extract.
With the mixer on low speed, beat the flour into the egg mixture, alternating with the buttermilk, ending with the flour. Add the pecans, scrape down the sides of the bowl, and beat just until smooth.
In a clean large bowl with clean beaters, beat the egg whites on high speed until stiff peaks form. Fold the egg whites into the batter and spread the batter evenly in the pans.
Bake for 30 to 35 minutes or until the tops of the cake are golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Cool the cakes in the pans for 10-15 minutes on a wire rack. Remove the cakes from the pan, discard the paper and cool completely on a wire rack.
Make the Frosting:
Beat the cream cheese and butter in a medium bowl with an electric mixer on medium speed until smooth and creamy. Gradually beat in the powdered sugar on low speed. Add the vanilla and beat well. Taste and adjust according to desired sweetness, adding more sifted powdered sugar if needed.
Place 1 cake layer, topside down, on a serving plate; spread with one-third of the frosting. Top with the other cake layer, topside up. Spread remaining frosting evenly over the top and sides of the cake. Garnish with coconut and pecans as desired.
Ta,
Bec
24.4.12
Today's Been Sort of Rotten
So far today I have:
Listened to the voicemail on the phone and realized my grandmother called on my birthday not to give me happy returns, but to tell me she didn't feel well. Nice.
Found out one of the jobs I applied for doesn't want me. Not Rhinelander. Never Rhinelander. They still haven't gotten back to me.
Found out someone I know is getting married. Sigh.
Tried to plant my new herb garden (in an attempt to make myself feel better) and found out the "potting soil" wasn't potting soil at all, but insect something or other that Dad bagged up last year and forgot about. Why am I not surprised?
All in all, enough to send me off to the doldrums again, which I got out of over the weekend and promptly dropped right back into today. The birthday high is over. Welcome back to, "Stagnating and You!"
Yes, I am spinning my wheels. Yes, I am sick of spinning my wheels. I want out of here. I want a job. I want my own place where I can find my damned looseleaf tea without having to tear apart half the things I own to FIND the looseleaf tea (I have no clue where to look for the stuff now. I suspect that it might be gone. I have another place or two to check.)
Sigh.
Sorry about this. I'll pick myself up soon enough. I think maybe I'll watch something tonight to shake off this thing. Don't know what. Sherlock probably (oh predictable me and my predictable ways...)
Ta,
Bec
Listened to the voicemail on the phone and realized my grandmother called on my birthday not to give me happy returns, but to tell me she didn't feel well. Nice.
Found out one of the jobs I applied for doesn't want me. Not Rhinelander. Never Rhinelander. They still haven't gotten back to me.
Found out someone I know is getting married. Sigh.
Tried to plant my new herb garden (in an attempt to make myself feel better) and found out the "potting soil" wasn't potting soil at all, but insect something or other that Dad bagged up last year and forgot about. Why am I not surprised?
All in all, enough to send me off to the doldrums again, which I got out of over the weekend and promptly dropped right back into today. The birthday high is over. Welcome back to, "Stagnating and You!"
Yes, I am spinning my wheels. Yes, I am sick of spinning my wheels. I want out of here. I want a job. I want my own place where I can find my damned looseleaf tea without having to tear apart half the things I own to FIND the looseleaf tea (I have no clue where to look for the stuff now. I suspect that it might be gone. I have another place or two to check.)
Sigh.
Sorry about this. I'll pick myself up soon enough. I think maybe I'll watch something tonight to shake off this thing. Don't know what. Sherlock probably (oh predictable me and my predictable ways...)
Ta,
Bec
22.4.12
A Good Beginning to 26
Today was a good birthday (unlike last year's little fiasco.)
I got a free burger and a free ice cream. With sprinkles.
I wrote some stuff. Mostly technical stuff but it was still progress.
Everyone (that's Sara, Mum, Dad, and I) wound up playing Scrabble with the board on my knees, leaving me kind of stiff. One wrong move, one sneeze and the whole thing could have been blown to heck. Lucky for me I didn't twitch too much.
I got presents. Gotta update my Amazon list now and then I'm heading to bed because I DID manage to stay up late enough to see the switchover and I am exhausted.
Ta,
Bec
I got a free burger and a free ice cream. With sprinkles.
I wrote some stuff. Mostly technical stuff but it was still progress.
Everyone (that's Sara, Mum, Dad, and I) wound up playing Scrabble with the board on my knees, leaving me kind of stiff. One wrong move, one sneeze and the whole thing could have been blown to heck. Lucky for me I didn't twitch too much.
I got presents. Gotta update my Amazon list now and then I'm heading to bed because I DID manage to stay up late enough to see the switchover and I am exhausted.
Ta,
Bec
21.4.12
The Last Post of a 25 Year Old
In negative two hours now (as of three minutes ago it was two hours) I will be 26.
I have the car packed for the weekend, with enough food geared towards my poor digestive system to keep it happy for at least two days. Maybe three.
Dog's finally given up being a menace and has crashed out sleeping on the floor. Between getting tangled with her new rope four times, eating canning wax (little chunks of it while Mum tried to cook with it today), banging her bowl into the floor, the wall, and anywhere else it would make noise, struggling mightily (she kicks like a beetle on its back) while getting brushed by Mom and me BOTH, and tripping around behind me snuffling while I tried to find a Scrabble game in this house that wasn't missing ONE tile (you'd think 9 or 10 copies of the same game would eventually produce one full working game, but since they're all so different in size, color, and shape, there's only one complete game where everything matches among the lot of them.)
I have packed the car. I have found one Scrabble game. I have packed part of my mother's stuff, the dog's stuff, and my own stuff. If I have to pack Dad I will mutiny.
Spritey is staring at me. I wonder what she wants. She's groaning under her breath like a small furry Vader (it's three steps away from a full-on moan of distress.) Probably means she wants food again (at 11 at night? I think not.)
I want to stay up till 12:41 (we don't do midnight round here. I was 41 minutes off into the 22nd and we're sticking to it.) but I don't think I'm going to make it this year. Curse biology for having me born in the middle of the bloody night...but at least I don't have to wait for my presents like Anna does, because she was born at 6 PM. Mum always made her wait. I, however, get up in the morning already switched over so I don't have to wait. Ha ha ha.
I'm going to go to bed and sleep through this one.
Ta,
Bec
I have the car packed for the weekend, with enough food geared towards my poor digestive system to keep it happy for at least two days. Maybe three.
Dog's finally given up being a menace and has crashed out sleeping on the floor. Between getting tangled with her new rope four times, eating canning wax (little chunks of it while Mum tried to cook with it today), banging her bowl into the floor, the wall, and anywhere else it would make noise, struggling mightily (she kicks like a beetle on its back) while getting brushed by Mom and me BOTH, and tripping around behind me snuffling while I tried to find a Scrabble game in this house that wasn't missing ONE tile (you'd think 9 or 10 copies of the same game would eventually produce one full working game, but since they're all so different in size, color, and shape, there's only one complete game where everything matches among the lot of them.)
I have packed the car. I have found one Scrabble game. I have packed part of my mother's stuff, the dog's stuff, and my own stuff. If I have to pack Dad I will mutiny.
Spritey is staring at me. I wonder what she wants. She's groaning under her breath like a small furry Vader (it's three steps away from a full-on moan of distress.) Probably means she wants food again (at 11 at night? I think not.)
I want to stay up till 12:41 (we don't do midnight round here. I was 41 minutes off into the 22nd and we're sticking to it.) but I don't think I'm going to make it this year. Curse biology for having me born in the middle of the bloody night...but at least I don't have to wait for my presents like Anna does, because she was born at 6 PM. Mum always made her wait. I, however, get up in the morning already switched over so I don't have to wait. Ha ha ha.
I'm going to go to bed and sleep through this one.
Ta,
Bec
20.4.12
Be Careful What You Wish For
OK, so you know how with my last post I said I wanted the phone to ring?
Man, I should have shut my mouth.
Today the phone has rung numerous times, once when I had cake batter dripping out of the mixing bowl into the cake pan. I threw batter all over the place trying to find a place to set the bowl down where it wouldn't drip and where it couldn't be eaten by the dog.
I had to call my mother twice at work (she called me back once.)
I had a cake to make for tonight, Dad's dinner to toss together, dishes to wash (three times), egg whites to get rid of, tomatoes to slice...you get the picture. In between all this madness, I was trying to eat popcorn with one hand and stir frosting with the other.
Thankfully, it's all pretty much done now save a few little details. Only took three hours.
I'm going to soak my poor abused back in hot water and hope the phone A) doesn't ring again B) that no one feels the need to visit and C) That the dog doesn't start a riot because she doesn't want to be outside.
Ta,
Bec
Man, I should have shut my mouth.
Today the phone has rung numerous times, once when I had cake batter dripping out of the mixing bowl into the cake pan. I threw batter all over the place trying to find a place to set the bowl down where it wouldn't drip and where it couldn't be eaten by the dog.
I had to call my mother twice at work (she called me back once.)
I had a cake to make for tonight, Dad's dinner to toss together, dishes to wash (three times), egg whites to get rid of, tomatoes to slice...you get the picture. In between all this madness, I was trying to eat popcorn with one hand and stir frosting with the other.
Thankfully, it's all pretty much done now save a few little details. Only took three hours.
I'm going to soak my poor abused back in hot water and hope the phone A) doesn't ring again B) that no one feels the need to visit and C) That the dog doesn't start a riot because she doesn't want to be outside.
Ta,
Bec
18.4.12
Ask Not For Whom The Phone Rings, It Does Not Ring for Me!
I'm tired.
I am sitting at home all bloody day, awaiting calls from the electrician (need something hooked up), the library (like that's ever going to happen,) Shopko (looking for a discount I am not getting,) the people who are holding our vacuum hostage (Oreck repair guy is taking too long to fix it. Our carpet cries foul!), and the clinic (something for Mum.)
Nobody has called.
My Facebook status reflects my frustration; the only thing I said today was AGH!
Tired. Tired. Frustrated. Tired.
I want the PHONE TO RING!
Ta,
Bec
PS: I just sent this to my buddy Zach, who feels sorry for my phone call-less plight.
My mother and I have come to the conclusion that we have ceased to exist again (happens once in a while round here.) Maybe we have to do something illegal to get someone to notice we're not invisible.
Mine right at the moment is: Wait for the sun to shine, then make sure to slap cream on your sunburn. I never get what I'm after. I'm signed up for three or four contests right now, and I'm only guaranteed to probably win the one because there are very few people in it. We never win anything; we never get lucky; and we never catch breaks. In my division of the family, you're better off not waiting for fate to come and give you a kick. Make your own stuff. Do it your way. Don't expect to get anything for even close to free.
It's not all bad. We have a good laugh around here a lot of the time because we're aware that our luck is at a negative setting, and it's not likely to change. I have this insane idea that it's going to (hasn't for 26 years. Why should I hope I'll get what I'm after? Determination and I'm bloody stubborn as all hell, that's why.) I figure that if I keep my head down (ducking bad things like plot bunnies) and plow through that someday someone's going to look at me and go, here, have something for all the shit you've taken. We love you. Now go spend money on something. You're welcome.
The fact that that hasn't happened yet doesn't faze me in the least. I make my own pies to put fingers in.
Our pastor said a couple of weeks ago that those who suffer most on Earth will get the nicest mansions in heaven (wasn't phrased like that, but that's how I took it.) Here's how I see things- The African continent, the Central Americans, and the Asian subcontinent are going to score BIG there. Most Americans and Europeans will have postage-stamp lawns in comparison. The South Americans will be in the middle. And there we'll be, in the middle of the American section, with a nice house with a jacuzzi and a pool so big you can't see the edges. And God will give us pie and cake and lots of donuts because he feels bad for making us ridiculously miserable down below.
Like I said, I try to stay positive and duck the flying bunnies.
I'm gonna head to bed. I've got heartburn again (sigh.)
Ta,
Bec
I am sitting at home all bloody day, awaiting calls from the electrician (need something hooked up), the library (like that's ever going to happen,) Shopko (looking for a discount I am not getting,) the people who are holding our vacuum hostage (Oreck repair guy is taking too long to fix it. Our carpet cries foul!), and the clinic (something for Mum.)
Nobody has called.
My Facebook status reflects my frustration; the only thing I said today was AGH!
Tired. Tired. Frustrated. Tired.
I want the PHONE TO RING!
Ta,
Bec
PS: I just sent this to my buddy Zach, who feels sorry for my phone call-less plight.
My mother and I have come to the conclusion that we have ceased to exist again (happens once in a while round here.) Maybe we have to do something illegal to get someone to notice we're not invisible.
Mine right at the moment is: Wait for the sun to shine, then make sure to slap cream on your sunburn. I never get what I'm after. I'm signed up for three or four contests right now, and I'm only guaranteed to probably win the one because there are very few people in it. We never win anything; we never get lucky; and we never catch breaks. In my division of the family, you're better off not waiting for fate to come and give you a kick. Make your own stuff. Do it your way. Don't expect to get anything for even close to free.
It's not all bad. We have a good laugh around here a lot of the time because we're aware that our luck is at a negative setting, and it's not likely to change. I have this insane idea that it's going to (hasn't for 26 years. Why should I hope I'll get what I'm after? Determination and I'm bloody stubborn as all hell, that's why.) I figure that if I keep my head down (ducking bad things like plot bunnies) and plow through that someday someone's going to look at me and go, here, have something for all the shit you've taken. We love you. Now go spend money on something. You're welcome.
The fact that that hasn't happened yet doesn't faze me in the least. I make my own pies to put fingers in.
Our pastor said a couple of weeks ago that those who suffer most on Earth will get the nicest mansions in heaven (wasn't phrased like that, but that's how I took it.) Here's how I see things- The African continent, the Central Americans, and the Asian subcontinent are going to score BIG there. Most Americans and Europeans will have postage-stamp lawns in comparison. The South Americans will be in the middle. And there we'll be, in the middle of the American section, with a nice house with a jacuzzi and a pool so big you can't see the edges. And God will give us pie and cake and lots of donuts because he feels bad for making us ridiculously miserable down below.
Like I said, I try to stay positive and duck the flying bunnies.
I'm gonna head to bed. I've got heartburn again (sigh.)
Ta,
Bec
17.4.12
CAKE!
Still waiting on the library. On the verge of giving up.
Made a cake today that Mum found in a cookbook borrowed from the same library. The thing is an ingredient hog - an entire pound of butter, an entire pound of chocolate, a dozen eggs, so on and so forth. And that's just the cake part. The frosting uses another half-pound of chocolate.
I thought it would suck. I thought being a gluten-free cake, it would flop and fall apart.
Instead, it came out almost with the texture of a cheesecake. It's rich as all hell. Neither I nor Mom could eat more than one small piece each because while it was awesome, it was a (welcome) assault on the senses.
In other words, this one's going in the book, no question.
I found a copy online, so here you are. The ganache doesn't require rum at all; I left it out and found the cake to be fine without it.
Chocolate Delirium
makes 12 to 16 servings
Butter for greasing the pan
1 pound (4 sticks) unsalted butter
1 cup sugar
1 cup strong brewed coffee or espresso
1 pound bittersweet chocolate (or a combination of 8 ounces unsweetened chocolate and 8 ounces semisweet), chopped into small pieces
6 large eggs, at room temperature (when you accidentally drop white in your yolk, save yourself the trouble of throwing the egg out by tossing it with these)
6 large egg yolks
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons heavy (whipping) cream
chilled Chocolate Ganache
Whipped Cream or ice cream of your choice, for serving
Place a rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 325°F. Lightly grease a 10-inch springform pan with butter. Line the bottom of the pan with a parchment circle or pan insert. Melt the butter with the sugar and coffee in a large saucepan over medium-low heat.
Add the chopped chocolate to the butter mixture and stir. Turn the heat off, cover, and let sit until the chocolate has melted, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a large mixing bowl and stir with a whisk until smooth. Set aside.
Whisk together the whole eggs and egg yolks in a small mixing bowl. Pour this mixture in a stream into the chocolate mixture while stirring vigorously with the whisk until blended. Whip the cream in a small mixing bowl with an electric mixer until firm peaks form, about 40 seconds. Stir the whipped cream into the chocolate mixture until fully incorporated.
Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake until the center is set but still slightly spongy in texture and a tester inserted in the center comes out with moist crumbs, about 1 ½ hours.
Cool the cake in the pan on a rack for several hours. Remove the side of the pan and flip the cake onto the rack. Remove the pan bottom and the paper. Place a second rack over a large piece of aluminum foil. Flip the cake right side up onto the rack.
Chocolate Ganache
9 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
1 cup heavy cream
1 tablespoon dark rum (optional)
Place the chocolate into a medium bowl. Heat the cream in a small sauce pan over medium heat. Bring just to a boil, watching very carefully because if it boils for a few seconds, it will boil out of the pot. When the cream has come to a boil, pour over the chopped chocolate, and whisk until smooth. Stir in the rum if desired.
Allow the ganache to cool slightly before pouring over a cake. Start at the center of the cake and work outward. For a fluffy frosting or chocolate filling, allow it to cool until thick, then whip with a whisk until light and fluffy.
Pour the Chocolate Ganache over the top of the cake and use a frosting spatula to spread it evenly over the top so that it drips down the sides. Then use the spatula to lightly spread it around the sides of the cake. When the glaze sets, carefully lift the cake off the rack with a metal spatula and place it on a cake plate.
Serve with Whipped Cream or the ice cream of your choice.
So, that's the whole thing. Like I said before, it is excessively rich and thick. If I had made it for myself alone, I would have frozen most of it and eaten it one little piece at a time.
Let me know how it turns out for you if you do make it. Besides separating the eggs, I found it to be fairly easy to make, and I was pleased to finally find a cake recipe that I can eat without worrying about my GF issues.
Ta,
Bec
Made a cake today that Mum found in a cookbook borrowed from the same library. The thing is an ingredient hog - an entire pound of butter, an entire pound of chocolate, a dozen eggs, so on and so forth. And that's just the cake part. The frosting uses another half-pound of chocolate.
I thought it would suck. I thought being a gluten-free cake, it would flop and fall apart.
Instead, it came out almost with the texture of a cheesecake. It's rich as all hell. Neither I nor Mom could eat more than one small piece each because while it was awesome, it was a (welcome) assault on the senses.
In other words, this one's going in the book, no question.
I found a copy online, so here you are. The ganache doesn't require rum at all; I left it out and found the cake to be fine without it.
Chocolate Delirium
makes 12 to 16 servings
Butter for greasing the pan
1 pound (4 sticks) unsalted butter
1 cup sugar
1 cup strong brewed coffee or espresso
1 pound bittersweet chocolate (or a combination of 8 ounces unsweetened chocolate and 8 ounces semisweet), chopped into small pieces
6 large eggs, at room temperature (when you accidentally drop white in your yolk, save yourself the trouble of throwing the egg out by tossing it with these)
6 large egg yolks
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons heavy (whipping) cream
chilled Chocolate Ganache
Whipped Cream or ice cream of your choice, for serving
Place a rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 325°F. Lightly grease a 10-inch springform pan with butter. Line the bottom of the pan with a parchment circle or pan insert. Melt the butter with the sugar and coffee in a large saucepan over medium-low heat.
Add the chopped chocolate to the butter mixture and stir. Turn the heat off, cover, and let sit until the chocolate has melted, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a large mixing bowl and stir with a whisk until smooth. Set aside.
Whisk together the whole eggs and egg yolks in a small mixing bowl. Pour this mixture in a stream into the chocolate mixture while stirring vigorously with the whisk until blended. Whip the cream in a small mixing bowl with an electric mixer until firm peaks form, about 40 seconds. Stir the whipped cream into the chocolate mixture until fully incorporated.
Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake until the center is set but still slightly spongy in texture and a tester inserted in the center comes out with moist crumbs, about 1 ½ hours.
Cool the cake in the pan on a rack for several hours. Remove the side of the pan and flip the cake onto the rack. Remove the pan bottom and the paper. Place a second rack over a large piece of aluminum foil. Flip the cake right side up onto the rack.
Chocolate Ganache
9 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
1 cup heavy cream
1 tablespoon dark rum (optional)
Place the chocolate into a medium bowl. Heat the cream in a small sauce pan over medium heat. Bring just to a boil, watching very carefully because if it boils for a few seconds, it will boil out of the pot. When the cream has come to a boil, pour over the chopped chocolate, and whisk until smooth. Stir in the rum if desired.
Allow the ganache to cool slightly before pouring over a cake. Start at the center of the cake and work outward. For a fluffy frosting or chocolate filling, allow it to cool until thick, then whip with a whisk until light and fluffy.
Pour the Chocolate Ganache over the top of the cake and use a frosting spatula to spread it evenly over the top so that it drips down the sides. Then use the spatula to lightly spread it around the sides of the cake. When the glaze sets, carefully lift the cake off the rack with a metal spatula and place it on a cake plate.
Serve with Whipped Cream or the ice cream of your choice.
So, that's the whole thing. Like I said before, it is excessively rich and thick. If I had made it for myself alone, I would have frozen most of it and eaten it one little piece at a time.
Let me know how it turns out for you if you do make it. Besides separating the eggs, I found it to be fairly easy to make, and I was pleased to finally find a cake recipe that I can eat without worrying about my GF issues.
Ta,
Bec
10.4.12
Reichenbach Theories Version 2
This one takes all the guesswork out and lays everything out flat (ooh, bad choice of words there, Bec...) I wanted to get all the information down in a nice, clean way before the May premieres here.
SPOILERS FOR SHERLOCK SERIES 2. STOP HERE IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE REICHENBACH FALL...
LAST WARNING!
The Conspirators
Mycroft -Had Moriarty in his clutches, broke the Geneva Convention to get information from him by having him beaten and kept in pitch darkness and solitary confinement for months. The only way that Moriarty would give Mycroft what he wanted was to have all of Sherlock's history given to him on a silver platter. Mycroft doesn't want to make a martyr out of the consulting criminal by having him killed in secret. Mycroft and Moriarty then exchange information-Mycroft sells Sherlock's life story to Moriarty for a few lines of code.
Of course, the code is bogus. Mycroft must know that. Maybe he does, and the best way to take down a mastermind like Jim is to let him do it to himself. Even if he doesn't, there's full disclosure going on between the Holmes brothers in this one. Don't believe for a second that Sherlock didn't know exactly what was going on. Mycroft is an overprotective pain in the neck and I would be terribly surprised if he gave up Sherlock's entire life story to the greatest criminal mastermind in the world and didn't tell his little brother that he'd done it, even if he realized that the code had been a ruse. Even Mycroft isn't too proud to admit to Sherlock that he made a grievous mistake, not when it could mean his death.
I also have had the idea that Mycroft could have fed Moriarty's cronies a bullshit code in the first place, making it only work a couple of times, or that it exposes whoever uses it to getting caught in the act. Moriarty would have put the thing up for auction to those assassins, then found out it was crap, but he's already got the damn thing up for sale. He's cornered if those guys find out that the code is fake. What can he do now but turn around and attack Sherlock, his "final problem?"
I know, I know. Mad theory. But I just don't want to believe that Mycroft could be as disloyal as to sell out his baby brother without a damned good reason.
Dr. Molly Hooper-Molly is a useful person to Sherlock Holmes.
1. She's a coroner-Like John, she has a medical license. Molly doesn't probably work with living bodies all that often due to her current position, but it stands to reason she knows how to use a needle and can fake records.
2. She's not on Sherlock's buddy list-meaning that Moriarty would always, always overlook her because he doesn't see her as anyone significant to Sherlock. He only dated her in the first place because it got him into Bart's and closer to his prey.
3. She can get rhododendron ponticum if Sherlock can't do it himself. With only 8 hours of planning time, it might be hard to get a poison like this unless you had a contact willing to get it for you. It's possible Mycroft could get some, but Molly would ensure that the poisoning was done right so as not to really kill Sherlock.
Sherlock-Moriarty's whole plan is to "tear his heart out." Beginning with his reputation, continuing with his closest friends, and ending with Sherlock's eventual death, Moriarty doesn't want to just kill Sherlock. He wants him torn apart into little pieces and spat out of a woodchipper. He wants nothing left of him. Killing him is boring. Destroying him is much more interesting.
Moriarty-Jim is what Sherlock would be without a heart; cold, calculating, lonely. Jim has no friends, no confidants. He understands violence, hatred, and rage, but love, feelings, and caring for someone besides himself is foreign to him. Sherlock may not always understand his emotions, but at least he bothers to have them at all.
Moriarty also doesn't understand loyalty without money/power involved. His minions are paid or cowed to be loyal to him, they grovel at his feet because he's smarter than them and can have them killed in interesting and excessively painful ways. They're loyal because they fear him, and probably loathe him just a little for having the strength that he does.
Sherlock engenders loyalty because John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson see a great man trying to be a good man. Molly is on that list, too. They want to help him, to be at his side and support him because they care about him. Mycroft cares in a different way because his ties are familial, but he's watching out for his little brother all the time in various and unsubtle ways.
Moriarty doesn't understand this caring lark. He doesn't get why these people give a damn. He sees them as potential targets to get through Sherlock's armor and weaken him. In short, he sees them as (forgive the metaphor, Benedict, I really couldn't help it!) open unprotected spots on the underside of the dragon.
Recall Sherlock saying alone protects him. That's what Moriarty thinks. Funny enough, it's Sherlock's connections, his friends and family that get him out from under Jim's plan. In the end, Mycroft and Molly will save Sherlock from the death that Moriarty dies-a lonely suicide on a rooftop.
The Setup
Targets are John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. None of them know that Sherlock actually survived the fall off the pathology building. They all have to appear to be grieving the loss of him because if they aren't, all three of them will be dead. Not a one of these three are good enough actors to be told in secret and keep their mouths shut and their actions appropriate to the situation.
The only one who witnesses Sherlock's death in full is John, because he's the one that needs the most convincing. The others will take it at face value-John would want real, physical, tangible proof.
Sherlock knows his "death", however false, has to be dramatic and visible to ALL of London, to the snipers with their guns aimed at his friends. Sherlock would never die this way if given a choice; there is the possibility of survival and being left permanently crippled and disabled. Sherlock knows how to commit suicide properly thanks to his consulting detective job-he deals with the dead all the time, AND we know from the stories that he has an extensive knowledge of poisons and chemistry. There are far better ways of doing oneself in than falling off a building.
But chemical death isn't as graphic, so he has to settle for this.
Of course he has to know what's coming. He's preparing from the moment that he leaves Rich Brook's flat, the night before he "dies." He goes to Molly for help. John is away at the time, berating Mycroft at the Diogenes Club. Sherlock spends the ENTIRE night in the lab at Bart's, since he's actually running away from the law. He has nowhere to go-can't go home, won't go to Mycroft, Scotland Yard is full of people wanting to arrest him.
And so Sherlock uses his and Molly's extensive knowledge of chemicals and poisons to come up with a plan involving rhododendron ponticum, a poison that slows the pulse and gives the appearance of death. This plan could go forward without Mycroft, but it's still going to be bloody hard to get ahold of the ponticum without his help, since that doesn't seem like something they'd keep in the lab of a teaching hospital. Even with Sherlock's near-encyclopedic knowhow of poisons, how likely is he to have the one at Baker Street that he needs? There are a lot of poisons; unless he's got a collection of them, he won't have it at home so that someone could go get it out of his things. It's late at night, and they can't order it on overnight delivery because that's unreliable and it might not get there in time. Best bet's probably Mycroft, Mr. British Government, who could probably procure any damn poison his little brother wants. Thank the Lord for MI-6 connections...
Of course, Sherlock could have grabbed some rhododendrons off the boarding house lawn, but that's planning too far ahead. Different species of the plant can poison, and more than likely Sherlock would want to stick with the honey made from rhododendrons, not the plants themselves, because eating the honey doesn't usually kill you. Here's a line from hbg.org, describing the poison and its effects...
The intoxication is rarely fatal and generally lasts for no more than 24 hours. Generally the disease induces dizziness, weakness, excessive perspiration, nausea, and vomiting shortly after the toxic honey is ingested. Other symptoms that can occur are low blood pressure or shock, bradyarrhythima (slowness of the heart beat associated with an irregularity in the heart rhythm), sinus bradycardia (a slow sinus rhythm, with a heart rate less than 60), nodal rhythm (pertaining to a node, particularly the atrioventricular node), Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome (anomalous atrioventricular excitation) and complete atrioventricular block.
Also...
In humans, symptoms of poisoning occur after a dose-dependent latent period of a few minutes to two or more hours and include salivation, vomiting, and both circumoral (around or near the mouth) and extremity paresthesia (abnormal sensations). Pronounced low blood pressure and sinus bradycardia develop. In severe intoxication, loss of coordination and progressive muscular weakness result. Extrasystoles (a premature contraction of the heart that is independent of the normal rhythm and arises in response to an impulse in some part of the heart other than the sinoatrial node; called also premature beat) and ventricular tachycardia (an abnormally rapid ventricular rhythm with aberrant ventricular excitation, usually in excess of 150 per minute) with both atrioventricular and intraventricular conduction disturbances also may occur. Convulsions are reported occasionally. (Thanks to http://hbd.org/brewery/library/HonD.html)
Clearly this is not something Sherlock could just go and buy at a moment's notice. He would need Mycroft's extensive reach to get some of this stuff to poison himself with.
Sherlock has hours and hours, then, to set up a plan, to work something out with the homeless network, Mycroft, and Molly. By the time John is finished shouting at Mycroft and is headed back, a plan is probably mostly done, because Molly has left by the time John arrives at the morgue.
John comes back at some point and falls asleep on the desk across from where Sherlock is sitting. Remember John is supposed to have been arrested too, so he also has nowhere to go.
It is at THIS likely point that Sherlock takes the rhododendron poison, since it takes three to six hours to take effect. That would have him taking it somewhere in the early hours of the morning, while John sleeps at the desk.
John is woken by a phone call (who calls him is a mystery I would like solved but my guess would be Mycroft) because Mrs. Hudson has been shot and is dying. Sherlock refuses to leave. John accuses him of being a machine and not caring (a paradox if there ever was one-Sherlock isn't leaving Bart's because he cares too much for John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson.)
Of course the whole bloody thing is a ruse to get John out of the way for a few moments while Sherlock goes and deals with Jim on the roof.
The Rooftop
So we assume Sherlock's had the rhododendron stuff in his system for a few hours already. When Moriarty takes a good look at him on the rooftop, he peers up at Sherlock, and sees something wrong with his eyes (pupils are way contracted, and it's awfully hard to see Jim's because Andrew Scott's irises are so damn dark).
And here, Moriarty takes Sherlock's pulse by shaking his hand.
And finds...nothing. No pulse. Sherlock's heart rate is so slowed by the rhododendron poison that he already would fool someone into thinking he was dead.
Moriarty GETS it, of course. He gets that Sherlock's loyalty to his friends means that he would die for them, blow his reputation for them, lose it all for them. But Sherlock doesn't walk into death blindly-he's already got an OUT set up somewhere.
Sherlock may fake-die today and his reputation may be in tatters, but the snipers will be called off of John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. And that matters more to him than anything else.
Moriarty thanks him for a game well played and blows his own head off, forcing Sherlock into going forward with the "suicide."
The Fall
There are blatant, probably deliberate mistakes throughout this scene.
1. Position of Sherlock's body falling versus where he lands. He falls perpendicular to the building, but lands parallel to it. Not enough airspace to flip around in midair, so he changes position when he's out of sight behind the small building in front of the hospital. It's possible he lands on the rubbish truck, jumps to the ground, and rolls in a puddle of freshly-placed fake or real blood (doesn't make a difference whether it's corn syrup or the real stuff.)
2. Too much blood, too little time-There are mere seconds between Sherlock's landing and Watson reaching him, even with the well-placed cyclist. There's no more than a minute or two between the fall and Watson seeing him again. Unless there were terrible, terrible injuries, there is too much blood on the ground for someone whose bones are not broken and whose body appears fairly whole.
There is also the minor issue of Sherlock's left ear-he appears to be bleeding from it, but that's impossible, given the fact that IF he fell the way he was supposed to, he should have landed on his FACE. Even if he did land on his side, it still doesn't work, given that when we see him again, he's lying on his RIGHT side, not his LEFT. His injuries should be primarily on the side he lands on.
3. Given that, there are not enough injuries. A person who has fallen 70 feet off a building will have broken bones, open wounds, head injuries, a more than likely injured spine. Sherlock looks perfect save for his bleeding head, a near impossibility unless the man landed on a mattress.
4. That said, IF someone is injured in that way, the first thing you do NOT do is roll him over the way these people in scrubs do. You support the neck and head because he could be paralyzed if you shift him improperly. You check his airway secondary to that, breathing, and THEN circulation. They jump right over the first two and on to the third.
You would THEN get a neck brace on him and roll him onto the stretcher, keeping him lying straight as you put him on a backboard to keep his spine even. You do not DROP him like a sack of flour onto the stretcher. Any shift of the spine might make things worse and leave him without important functions like breathing or walking.
In fact, the way these people in scrubs behave, you would THINK they didn't know how to treat someone who's fallen off a building, or that that someone wasn't injured very much at all.
5. The amount of people in scrubs and how quickly they show up is too fast. Given that Bart's is under a refit, there shouldn't be a lot of doctors around. Ditto on that stretcher. Even in a good, busy, occupied hospital, it should take a minute or even two for someone to shout around for a stretcher, find one unoccupied, navigate it through the hospital corridors, and out the door to where Sherlock's fallen. This gurney comes whizzing out mere seconds after he lands.
6. The fact that even when Watson comes up claiming to be a doctor, the people around him pull him away. Even in a crisis like this, even an injured doctor offering to help would be allowed to aid his friend, and would be allowed to walk into the hospital with him. Remember: Watson was TRAINED at St. Bart's. He's WORKED there. He knows people who WORK there at the present MOMENT (Stanford for one, Molly for another.) If there were real doctors and nurses in that crowd, they would KNOW him and they would KNOW he was an army medic and they would LET him take care of Sherlock. The reason Watson is pulled away is that if he gets too close, he might feel Sherlock's heart trying to beat and his pulse, however faint, and he might believe that his friend could make it. He has to feel nothing and believe what he feels-that Sherlock's body is truly dead and that his friend has really gone.
So, around the corner Sherlock goes on a stretcher, with all the appearances of death.
They take him down to the morgue, and Molly receives his poor, bloodied form.
Molly injects atropine to get his circulation back to normal. It might take him time to recover, no more than a day or two.
Meanwhile, Watson is in hospital overnight to make sure his head's OK, Mycroft "identifies" his brother's body, Molly fakes the records.
Then there's the staging of the funeral. Sherlock's probably been cremated because it would mean less risk of John pointing into an open casket and remarking that the body in the box looks NOTHING like the guy's he's lived with for a year and a half. Also note in "Belgravia" when Sherlock mentions to the two little girls that their grandfather has not gone to heaven but that he's been taken to a special room and burned. This blatant description of cremation implies to me that Sherlock probably would have wanted to be handled this way after his demise.
However it goes, it ends with a tombstone in a graveyard. Sherlock is dead to the world, and only Mycroft and Molly know the truth.
I assume that the bouncy ball is a red herring. Sherlock wouldn't be functional enough with the rhododendron stuff in his system to hold the ball in his armpit, and he wouldn't need to anyway with his pulse slowed by the poison. So, bouncy ball=boredom of consulting detective.
I will admit to this-I have absolutely no clue what Moffat was talking about when he said there was something we all missed. Feel free to throw theories at that one.
So there we are again, all the way through another pile of theories. Hopefully I led you to some interesting ideas, and hopefully we can all work together to figure out what the hell happened. I probably won't post an update of this one unless someone in the know spills their lentils and gives us a decent clue.
Ta,
Bec
SPOILERS FOR SHERLOCK SERIES 2. STOP HERE IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE REICHENBACH FALL...
LAST WARNING!
The Conspirators
Mycroft -Had Moriarty in his clutches, broke the Geneva Convention to get information from him by having him beaten and kept in pitch darkness and solitary confinement for months. The only way that Moriarty would give Mycroft what he wanted was to have all of Sherlock's history given to him on a silver platter. Mycroft doesn't want to make a martyr out of the consulting criminal by having him killed in secret. Mycroft and Moriarty then exchange information-Mycroft sells Sherlock's life story to Moriarty for a few lines of code.
Of course, the code is bogus. Mycroft must know that. Maybe he does, and the best way to take down a mastermind like Jim is to let him do it to himself. Even if he doesn't, there's full disclosure going on between the Holmes brothers in this one. Don't believe for a second that Sherlock didn't know exactly what was going on. Mycroft is an overprotective pain in the neck and I would be terribly surprised if he gave up Sherlock's entire life story to the greatest criminal mastermind in the world and didn't tell his little brother that he'd done it, even if he realized that the code had been a ruse. Even Mycroft isn't too proud to admit to Sherlock that he made a grievous mistake, not when it could mean his death.
I also have had the idea that Mycroft could have fed Moriarty's cronies a bullshit code in the first place, making it only work a couple of times, or that it exposes whoever uses it to getting caught in the act. Moriarty would have put the thing up for auction to those assassins, then found out it was crap, but he's already got the damn thing up for sale. He's cornered if those guys find out that the code is fake. What can he do now but turn around and attack Sherlock, his "final problem?"
I know, I know. Mad theory. But I just don't want to believe that Mycroft could be as disloyal as to sell out his baby brother without a damned good reason.
Dr. Molly Hooper-Molly is a useful person to Sherlock Holmes.
1. She's a coroner-Like John, she has a medical license. Molly doesn't probably work with living bodies all that often due to her current position, but it stands to reason she knows how to use a needle and can fake records.
2. She's not on Sherlock's buddy list-meaning that Moriarty would always, always overlook her because he doesn't see her as anyone significant to Sherlock. He only dated her in the first place because it got him into Bart's and closer to his prey.
3. She can get rhododendron ponticum if Sherlock can't do it himself. With only 8 hours of planning time, it might be hard to get a poison like this unless you had a contact willing to get it for you. It's possible Mycroft could get some, but Molly would ensure that the poisoning was done right so as not to really kill Sherlock.
Sherlock-Moriarty's whole plan is to "tear his heart out." Beginning with his reputation, continuing with his closest friends, and ending with Sherlock's eventual death, Moriarty doesn't want to just kill Sherlock. He wants him torn apart into little pieces and spat out of a woodchipper. He wants nothing left of him. Killing him is boring. Destroying him is much more interesting.
Moriarty-Jim is what Sherlock would be without a heart; cold, calculating, lonely. Jim has no friends, no confidants. He understands violence, hatred, and rage, but love, feelings, and caring for someone besides himself is foreign to him. Sherlock may not always understand his emotions, but at least he bothers to have them at all.
Moriarty also doesn't understand loyalty without money/power involved. His minions are paid or cowed to be loyal to him, they grovel at his feet because he's smarter than them and can have them killed in interesting and excessively painful ways. They're loyal because they fear him, and probably loathe him just a little for having the strength that he does.
Sherlock engenders loyalty because John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson see a great man trying to be a good man. Molly is on that list, too. They want to help him, to be at his side and support him because they care about him. Mycroft cares in a different way because his ties are familial, but he's watching out for his little brother all the time in various and unsubtle ways.
Moriarty doesn't understand this caring lark. He doesn't get why these people give a damn. He sees them as potential targets to get through Sherlock's armor and weaken him. In short, he sees them as (forgive the metaphor, Benedict, I really couldn't help it!) open unprotected spots on the underside of the dragon.
Recall Sherlock saying alone protects him. That's what Moriarty thinks. Funny enough, it's Sherlock's connections, his friends and family that get him out from under Jim's plan. In the end, Mycroft and Molly will save Sherlock from the death that Moriarty dies-a lonely suicide on a rooftop.
The Setup
Targets are John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. None of them know that Sherlock actually survived the fall off the pathology building. They all have to appear to be grieving the loss of him because if they aren't, all three of them will be dead. Not a one of these three are good enough actors to be told in secret and keep their mouths shut and their actions appropriate to the situation.
The only one who witnesses Sherlock's death in full is John, because he's the one that needs the most convincing. The others will take it at face value-John would want real, physical, tangible proof.
Sherlock knows his "death", however false, has to be dramatic and visible to ALL of London, to the snipers with their guns aimed at his friends. Sherlock would never die this way if given a choice; there is the possibility of survival and being left permanently crippled and disabled. Sherlock knows how to commit suicide properly thanks to his consulting detective job-he deals with the dead all the time, AND we know from the stories that he has an extensive knowledge of poisons and chemistry. There are far better ways of doing oneself in than falling off a building.
But chemical death isn't as graphic, so he has to settle for this.
Of course he has to know what's coming. He's preparing from the moment that he leaves Rich Brook's flat, the night before he "dies." He goes to Molly for help. John is away at the time, berating Mycroft at the Diogenes Club. Sherlock spends the ENTIRE night in the lab at Bart's, since he's actually running away from the law. He has nowhere to go-can't go home, won't go to Mycroft, Scotland Yard is full of people wanting to arrest him.
And so Sherlock uses his and Molly's extensive knowledge of chemicals and poisons to come up with a plan involving rhododendron ponticum, a poison that slows the pulse and gives the appearance of death. This plan could go forward without Mycroft, but it's still going to be bloody hard to get ahold of the ponticum without his help, since that doesn't seem like something they'd keep in the lab of a teaching hospital. Even with Sherlock's near-encyclopedic knowhow of poisons, how likely is he to have the one at Baker Street that he needs? There are a lot of poisons; unless he's got a collection of them, he won't have it at home so that someone could go get it out of his things. It's late at night, and they can't order it on overnight delivery because that's unreliable and it might not get there in time. Best bet's probably Mycroft, Mr. British Government, who could probably procure any damn poison his little brother wants. Thank the Lord for MI-6 connections...
Of course, Sherlock could have grabbed some rhododendrons off the boarding house lawn, but that's planning too far ahead. Different species of the plant can poison, and more than likely Sherlock would want to stick with the honey made from rhododendrons, not the plants themselves, because eating the honey doesn't usually kill you. Here's a line from hbg.org, describing the poison and its effects...
The intoxication is rarely fatal and generally lasts for no more than 24 hours. Generally the disease induces dizziness, weakness, excessive perspiration, nausea, and vomiting shortly after the toxic honey is ingested. Other symptoms that can occur are low blood pressure or shock, bradyarrhythima (slowness of the heart beat associated with an irregularity in the heart rhythm), sinus bradycardia (a slow sinus rhythm, with a heart rate less than 60), nodal rhythm (pertaining to a node, particularly the atrioventricular node), Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome (anomalous atrioventricular excitation) and complete atrioventricular block.
Also...
In humans, symptoms of poisoning occur after a dose-dependent latent period of a few minutes to two or more hours and include salivation, vomiting, and both circumoral (around or near the mouth) and extremity paresthesia (abnormal sensations). Pronounced low blood pressure and sinus bradycardia develop. In severe intoxication, loss of coordination and progressive muscular weakness result. Extrasystoles (a premature contraction of the heart that is independent of the normal rhythm and arises in response to an impulse in some part of the heart other than the sinoatrial node; called also premature beat) and ventricular tachycardia (an abnormally rapid ventricular rhythm with aberrant ventricular excitation, usually in excess of 150 per minute) with both atrioventricular and intraventricular conduction disturbances also may occur. Convulsions are reported occasionally. (Thanks to http://hbd.org/brewery/library/HonD.html)
Clearly this is not something Sherlock could just go and buy at a moment's notice. He would need Mycroft's extensive reach to get some of this stuff to poison himself with.
Sherlock has hours and hours, then, to set up a plan, to work something out with the homeless network, Mycroft, and Molly. By the time John is finished shouting at Mycroft and is headed back, a plan is probably mostly done, because Molly has left by the time John arrives at the morgue.
John comes back at some point and falls asleep on the desk across from where Sherlock is sitting. Remember John is supposed to have been arrested too, so he also has nowhere to go.
It is at THIS likely point that Sherlock takes the rhododendron poison, since it takes three to six hours to take effect. That would have him taking it somewhere in the early hours of the morning, while John sleeps at the desk.
John is woken by a phone call (who calls him is a mystery I would like solved but my guess would be Mycroft) because Mrs. Hudson has been shot and is dying. Sherlock refuses to leave. John accuses him of being a machine and not caring (a paradox if there ever was one-Sherlock isn't leaving Bart's because he cares too much for John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson.)
Of course the whole bloody thing is a ruse to get John out of the way for a few moments while Sherlock goes and deals with Jim on the roof.
The Rooftop
So we assume Sherlock's had the rhododendron stuff in his system for a few hours already. When Moriarty takes a good look at him on the rooftop, he peers up at Sherlock, and sees something wrong with his eyes (pupils are way contracted, and it's awfully hard to see Jim's because Andrew Scott's irises are so damn dark).
And here, Moriarty takes Sherlock's pulse by shaking his hand.
And finds...nothing. No pulse. Sherlock's heart rate is so slowed by the rhododendron poison that he already would fool someone into thinking he was dead.
Moriarty GETS it, of course. He gets that Sherlock's loyalty to his friends means that he would die for them, blow his reputation for them, lose it all for them. But Sherlock doesn't walk into death blindly-he's already got an OUT set up somewhere.
Sherlock may fake-die today and his reputation may be in tatters, but the snipers will be called off of John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. And that matters more to him than anything else.
Moriarty thanks him for a game well played and blows his own head off, forcing Sherlock into going forward with the "suicide."
The Fall
There are blatant, probably deliberate mistakes throughout this scene.
1. Position of Sherlock's body falling versus where he lands. He falls perpendicular to the building, but lands parallel to it. Not enough airspace to flip around in midair, so he changes position when he's out of sight behind the small building in front of the hospital. It's possible he lands on the rubbish truck, jumps to the ground, and rolls in a puddle of freshly-placed fake or real blood (doesn't make a difference whether it's corn syrup or the real stuff.)
2. Too much blood, too little time-There are mere seconds between Sherlock's landing and Watson reaching him, even with the well-placed cyclist. There's no more than a minute or two between the fall and Watson seeing him again. Unless there were terrible, terrible injuries, there is too much blood on the ground for someone whose bones are not broken and whose body appears fairly whole.
There is also the minor issue of Sherlock's left ear-he appears to be bleeding from it, but that's impossible, given the fact that IF he fell the way he was supposed to, he should have landed on his FACE. Even if he did land on his side, it still doesn't work, given that when we see him again, he's lying on his RIGHT side, not his LEFT. His injuries should be primarily on the side he lands on.
3. Given that, there are not enough injuries. A person who has fallen 70 feet off a building will have broken bones, open wounds, head injuries, a more than likely injured spine. Sherlock looks perfect save for his bleeding head, a near impossibility unless the man landed on a mattress.
4. That said, IF someone is injured in that way, the first thing you do NOT do is roll him over the way these people in scrubs do. You support the neck and head because he could be paralyzed if you shift him improperly. You check his airway secondary to that, breathing, and THEN circulation. They jump right over the first two and on to the third.
You would THEN get a neck brace on him and roll him onto the stretcher, keeping him lying straight as you put him on a backboard to keep his spine even. You do not DROP him like a sack of flour onto the stretcher. Any shift of the spine might make things worse and leave him without important functions like breathing or walking.
In fact, the way these people in scrubs behave, you would THINK they didn't know how to treat someone who's fallen off a building, or that that someone wasn't injured very much at all.
5. The amount of people in scrubs and how quickly they show up is too fast. Given that Bart's is under a refit, there shouldn't be a lot of doctors around. Ditto on that stretcher. Even in a good, busy, occupied hospital, it should take a minute or even two for someone to shout around for a stretcher, find one unoccupied, navigate it through the hospital corridors, and out the door to where Sherlock's fallen. This gurney comes whizzing out mere seconds after he lands.
6. The fact that even when Watson comes up claiming to be a doctor, the people around him pull him away. Even in a crisis like this, even an injured doctor offering to help would be allowed to aid his friend, and would be allowed to walk into the hospital with him. Remember: Watson was TRAINED at St. Bart's. He's WORKED there. He knows people who WORK there at the present MOMENT (Stanford for one, Molly for another.) If there were real doctors and nurses in that crowd, they would KNOW him and they would KNOW he was an army medic and they would LET him take care of Sherlock. The reason Watson is pulled away is that if he gets too close, he might feel Sherlock's heart trying to beat and his pulse, however faint, and he might believe that his friend could make it. He has to feel nothing and believe what he feels-that Sherlock's body is truly dead and that his friend has really gone.
So, around the corner Sherlock goes on a stretcher, with all the appearances of death.
They take him down to the morgue, and Molly receives his poor, bloodied form.
Molly injects atropine to get his circulation back to normal. It might take him time to recover, no more than a day or two.
Meanwhile, Watson is in hospital overnight to make sure his head's OK, Mycroft "identifies" his brother's body, Molly fakes the records.
Then there's the staging of the funeral. Sherlock's probably been cremated because it would mean less risk of John pointing into an open casket and remarking that the body in the box looks NOTHING like the guy's he's lived with for a year and a half. Also note in "Belgravia" when Sherlock mentions to the two little girls that their grandfather has not gone to heaven but that he's been taken to a special room and burned. This blatant description of cremation implies to me that Sherlock probably would have wanted to be handled this way after his demise.
However it goes, it ends with a tombstone in a graveyard. Sherlock is dead to the world, and only Mycroft and Molly know the truth.
I assume that the bouncy ball is a red herring. Sherlock wouldn't be functional enough with the rhododendron stuff in his system to hold the ball in his armpit, and he wouldn't need to anyway with his pulse slowed by the poison. So, bouncy ball=boredom of consulting detective.
I will admit to this-I have absolutely no clue what Moffat was talking about when he said there was something we all missed. Feel free to throw theories at that one.
So there we are again, all the way through another pile of theories. Hopefully I led you to some interesting ideas, and hopefully we can all work together to figure out what the hell happened. I probably won't post an update of this one unless someone in the know spills their lentils and gives us a decent clue.
Ta,
Bec
7.4.12
Yays For Me, I Own Series 2
It may be May 20th, it may be May 22nd.
I actually don't care anymore, because at some point during that week, a package will arrive with my name on it, containing the second series of Sherlock. I pre-ordered it and got 15 bucks off the price. Go Me!
I must have bounced around for ten minutes afterwards this morning in a ridiculous and silent cheer.
In about 45 days, I will get my last Christmas present. And I couldn't be giddier.
Ta,
Bec
I actually don't care anymore, because at some point during that week, a package will arrive with my name on it, containing the second series of Sherlock. I pre-ordered it and got 15 bucks off the price. Go Me!
I must have bounced around for ten minutes afterwards this morning in a ridiculous and silent cheer.
In about 45 days, I will get my last Christmas present. And I couldn't be giddier.
Ta,
Bec
4.4.12
Chocolate! Nachos! Ben Cumberbatch!
Working hard on Prince Within and making serious progress. I'm devoting an hour or two a day on it and I'm starting to see some marvelous results.
Nothing on the library front.
I'm having chocolate cravings like I haven't had in forever. I suspect it has something to do with the lack of sweet stuff around here to put in my face (or the lack of sweet stuff I CAN put in my face.) I've never swallowed so many Almond Joys in the span of twenty minutes in my life. I'm limited here, too, since I can't have Kit-Kats, Crunch Bars, Whoppers...anything with crispy stuff or malted stuff is off-limits. I mostly stick to Almond Joys, Snickers, and Lindor truffles around here. And Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Those I'm not banned from and I'm eternally grateful for it.
And for those who want to complain about calories, I'm none too concerned with that, it seems. Just keep the Lindor truffles coming and get out of the way. The darker the better. Maybe my hormones are off. I walked the dog through the woods and ate half a chocolate bar on the way through. Seems to have tapered off for now (give me three hours.)
The nacho cravings may be next-these kind of things come in levels.
1-Chocolate
2-Nachos
3-Death by lack of guacamole or dark chocolate.
I haven't had them in a while (the cravings or the nachos.) If I'm not exposed to salsa and Cheez Whiz on corn chips every six months or so, I start frothing at the mouth like a rabid hyena, and then someone has to drive me to Taco Bell so I can buy the BIG plate of nachos, and watch me snarf them down like Tarzan's monkey on bananas. It's not pretty.
I might preemptively strike on it and get the nachos before the craving clonks me over the head. Possibly.
On other cravings, kids, I am urging you to vote for Benedict. He's in SIXTH! (gasps of horror!) despite heroic efforts on behalf of the Cumberbitches (or Cumberladies, or Ben-addicts. I personally go with the first. :))
Link here: http://www.time.com/time/specials/packages/article/0,28804,2107952_2107953_2109586,00.html
(And did I just list Ben as a craving? Why yes I did. He ranks right up there with nachos and dark chocolate (maybe past it.) If I don't get my fix of his face/voice/ANYTHING in a day I get grumpy.)
Sigh.
I'm going to go plot a nacho takeover.
Ta,
Bec
Nothing on the library front.
I'm having chocolate cravings like I haven't had in forever. I suspect it has something to do with the lack of sweet stuff around here to put in my face (or the lack of sweet stuff I CAN put in my face.) I've never swallowed so many Almond Joys in the span of twenty minutes in my life. I'm limited here, too, since I can't have Kit-Kats, Crunch Bars, Whoppers...anything with crispy stuff or malted stuff is off-limits. I mostly stick to Almond Joys, Snickers, and Lindor truffles around here. And Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Those I'm not banned from and I'm eternally grateful for it.
And for those who want to complain about calories, I'm none too concerned with that, it seems. Just keep the Lindor truffles coming and get out of the way. The darker the better. Maybe my hormones are off. I walked the dog through the woods and ate half a chocolate bar on the way through. Seems to have tapered off for now (give me three hours.)
The nacho cravings may be next-these kind of things come in levels.
1-Chocolate
2-Nachos
3-Death by lack of guacamole or dark chocolate.
I haven't had them in a while (the cravings or the nachos.) If I'm not exposed to salsa and Cheez Whiz on corn chips every six months or so, I start frothing at the mouth like a rabid hyena, and then someone has to drive me to Taco Bell so I can buy the BIG plate of nachos, and watch me snarf them down like Tarzan's monkey on bananas. It's not pretty.
I might preemptively strike on it and get the nachos before the craving clonks me over the head. Possibly.
On other cravings, kids, I am urging you to vote for Benedict. He's in SIXTH! (gasps of horror!) despite heroic efforts on behalf of the Cumberbitches (or Cumberladies, or Ben-addicts. I personally go with the first. :))
Link here: http://www.time.com/time/specials/packages/article/0,28804,2107952_2107953_2109586,00.html
(And did I just list Ben as a craving? Why yes I did. He ranks right up there with nachos and dark chocolate (maybe past it.) If I don't get my fix of his face/voice/ANYTHING in a day I get grumpy.)
Sigh.
I'm going to go plot a nacho takeover.
Ta,
Bec
1.4.12
Still There Is Nothing!
There's been nothing for two weeks. NOTHING.
Meanwhile, I spent most of last night (2 hours or so) rewriting my Sherlock notes. I felt the old ones were getting awfully crowded and messy. I've made some assumptions with rhododendrons.
I'll keep them back for a bit; I've gone over them enough but I have to watch Reichenbach one more time anyway this month, so if I pick up anything useful I'm going to edit it into the notes. I'll try to post them around the beginning of May when the American premiere happens.
Oh, who am I kidding? I'll more than likely post them next entry. I can edit whatever I want after that.
MEANWHILE, I am urging all three of you that read my blog to please vote for Benedict in the Time 100 poll. He's in fourth!
Link here: http://www.time.com/time/specials/packages/article/0,28804,2107952_2107953_2109586,00.html
I'm going to go give a spa a staining.
Ta,
Bec
PS: Stained part of the spa and went to work on some writing. Completely disregarded the two previous versions of the section I was writing and wrote a third version which is infinitely better than the first two. Got a page down. That may not seem like much, but remember that I have to make every line work with the lines above and make it fit with the plan I have in my head. I have to keep everyone in character and talking to each other. Sometimes it takes an HOUR to get a line down. It's difficult, demanding, and tiring work, but I got results today. Hopefully by Wednesday I'll be able to continue this part of the story.
Meanwhile, I spent most of last night (2 hours or so) rewriting my Sherlock notes. I felt the old ones were getting awfully crowded and messy. I've made some assumptions with rhododendrons.
I'll keep them back for a bit; I've gone over them enough but I have to watch Reichenbach one more time anyway this month, so if I pick up anything useful I'm going to edit it into the notes. I'll try to post them around the beginning of May when the American premiere happens.
Oh, who am I kidding? I'll more than likely post them next entry. I can edit whatever I want after that.
MEANWHILE, I am urging all three of you that read my blog to please vote for Benedict in the Time 100 poll. He's in fourth!
Link here: http://www.time.com/time/specials/packages/article/0,28804,2107952_2107953_2109586,00.html
I'm going to go give a spa a staining.
Ta,
Bec
PS: Stained part of the spa and went to work on some writing. Completely disregarded the two previous versions of the section I was writing and wrote a third version which is infinitely better than the first two. Got a page down. That may not seem like much, but remember that I have to make every line work with the lines above and make it fit with the plan I have in my head. I have to keep everyone in character and talking to each other. Sometimes it takes an HOUR to get a line down. It's difficult, demanding, and tiring work, but I got results today. Hopefully by Wednesday I'll be able to continue this part of the story.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)