.:ELECTRIC VELOCIPEDE:. Nonfiction

I foggily find myself fumbling to make that infernal noise go away . . . . Just stop buzzing already!! I roll back over and stare at the ceiling as the first hints of light peek at the edges of the roman shade. Why is it morning? I know from the weather reports that what greets me once I crawl out of bed will be nothing short of an Antarctic wasteland . . . layers of ice beneath layers of snow . . . not to mention the drifting layers created by the sub-zero winds . . . . Grrrr to another Monday morning. The holidays have gone and with it my vacation. Instead, in the wee milky fingers of light, I will have to climb from the toasty layers of quilts, comforters and blankets into layers of camisoles, long underwear, fuzzy jumpers, mufflers, and fur stoles. Layer upon layer to fend off the weather’s prickly bite.

Layers and bites . . . as I soak up the last heat of the pillowy down and let the shafts of light draw longer streaks down the crown molding and onto the walls, I think of possible reasons to rise and eat my way into the day. Layers make me think of something my mother used to make long ago:

Seven Layer Salad

In a 9 x 13 glass pan, layer one on top of the other in this order:

Once you’ve gotten these six layers down, place the final glorious layer, with its garnishes:

Cover and leave for a bit (or overnight) in the fridge until service.

While the bacon sounds inviting . . . a salad would be the last thing to prompt me to evacuate this warm bed. A salad is, after all, only the first chilly layer in a great meal. This is not a reason to reject a salad, but rather it is only a lead-in for warmer layers of flavor to come. I bury my head deeper under the down overlay to dream up some better reason for emerging.

I drift off, considering something warmer . . . spicier . . . and my dreams become:

Green Chicken Enchiladas

Lightly oil a baking dish and place 3-4 chicken breasts (bone-in, please) inside. Salt and pepper both sides and bake in a 350 degree oven for 45-60 minutes. Allow to cool and then shred from the bone every last bit of meat. Set aside.

In a large skillet, heat:

In the same skillet, add a 2-count of oil (about 2 T.) to the pan and sauté:

Cook over medium heat until caramelized (about 5 minutes) and then add:

Cook another minute more. Then sprinkle over the pan and stir:

Next turn down your pan to low and slowly add:

Let this cook until the lumps are gone and sauce thickens, about 5 minutes. Take off heat. To the skillet add:

Heat your oven to 350 degrees. Begin assembling your layers of enchiladas in stations:

One: A stack of tortillas (enchilada-sized, of course).
Two: A large dinner plate with more green salsa on it.
Three: The pan of meat/sauce filling.
Four: A bowl of shredded co-jack or pepper-jack cheese
Five: A glass 9 x 13 pan, sprayed with cooking spray and smeared with enough green salsa to cover the bottom.

Working station to station, place the tortilla in the green salsa, covering both sides. Then, scoop in the chicken mixture, spreading it in a line down the middle of the tortilla, leaving about an inch of tortilla on either side. Sprinkle on some cheese and roll the tortilla like a cigar. Move it to the baking dish. Repeat until your filling is gone and the baking dish is full.

Once your enchiladas are layered together, pour any remaining green salsa over the top (either from the plate or from the jar). Grate some cheese over your enchiladas and bake uncovered for 30 minutes, until everything is hot and bubbly.

Startled, I throw off the comforter, finding that I am perspiring ever so slightly at the temples and my upper lip. Though nothing is clear, I have a vague recollection of . . . something bubbly and spicy and . . . green? And while spicy warmth is what I crave, the dream leaves me feeling as though whatever I had considered in my sleep might leave me with an unsteady gastronomical feeling at this hour.

As I lay half-exposed to the environs of my boudoir, I’m pondering a good reason to go shoulder the many mental and physical layers required to face my daytime existence. Oh, that it were summertime . . . or even the first verdant tickles of spring outside! I sit up, immediately consumed with the memory of shedding my winter’s weeds at an early spring birthday last year. It was not so much the getting out of my layers I was interested in, but rather the digging into the guest-of-honor’s birthday dessert. Not cake exactly, though that was present, too. But billowing softness and succulent fruit . . . and the faint whiff of something bracing . . . it was all there.

Mixed-berry Trifle

In a small bowl, whisk together:

While you are combining the above, put a small saucepan over medium heat and bring just to a boil:

Gradually, and whisking as you go, add the hot cream to the egg mixture. Then return all to medium-low heat and cook until just boiling and very thick. Whisk constantly, about 4 minutes. Pour into a clean bowl and add:

Stir to incorporate and then place a bit of plastic wrap right onto the surface of the pudding, to prevent a skin. Chill at least 2 hours.

In another large bowl, toss together:

The last thing you’ll need is:

Get a trifle bowl or any high-sided, see-through item (a small punch bowl would work) or you might want individual portions, and for that I’d use large martini glasses. Frankly, this would be wonderful eaten gluttonously from a five-quart pail with a wooden spoon, though that presentation is not really festive enough for a proper party.

No matter the vessel you choose, you will need to assemble the trifle in layers. Place about five slices of the cake upon the floor of the larger vessel or 1 slice in the bottom of a glass. Spoon half the berries on top (in a glass, I’d go for about ½ c.). Pour half the chilled custard on top of the berries (again, ½ c. in the glass). Repeat this until you have two layers of each. Cover and refrigerate at least four hours and up to twenty-four.

Just before serving, whip up some whipped cream using a hand mixer:

Dollop all of this atop your trifle or divide evenly over the glasses. It is a nice touch to garnish with toasted sliced almonds or birthday candles or just stab spoons in and let the feeding frenzy commence.

That memory is good enough to stir me from the covers . . . and through not breakfast-like, it does have fruit and nuts and cream . . . all things I would eat to start the day. Alas, like the barren clime outside, my refrigerator looks bleak as I totter toward wakefulness. Not a crumb suitable for breakfast; nothing right for facing the frightfulness outside.

I suppose it shall be cappuccino again . . . stout, hot, and with eye-opening bitterness. The espresso sits heavily in the bottom of my cup, supporting the steamed milk and froth above. I sit looking at these layers, knowing I will soon break their slumbering pattern. The steaming cup seems serene, warmly calm, much like I had been not thirty minutes prior. The lines remind me of a warm weather concoction, too cold for today, but alike in appearance:

Grown-Up Root-Beer Float

In a martini glass, scoop a generous helping of vanilla ice cream. Over it, pour:

Then, slowly, pour over the ice cream:

With any luck, the liquor will sit in the pit at the bottom of the glass, the brown beer above, and the ice cream and froth will rise majestically to the surface like a floating iceberg. In order to get the real impact of the drink, swizzle the liquids together.

Falling from this revelry, I jab a spoon into my own coffee cup, give a stir, and take a long draught. Joltingly hot, hopefully it is enough to melt the frozenness beyond my many layers of clothing. I head into the breach . . . thinking of my next chance to eat, drink, and live warmly!

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an interview with Paolo Bacigalupi

Can you tell us about what inspired The Windup Girl?

Pain. suffering. death. LOL. Seriously, it’s not just one thing: peak oil, hippie farmers worried about Monsanto, SARS, Bangkok in the hot season, a Japanese flight attendant on a flight out of Tokyo who moved in an oddly stuttering way, the first time I ever ate a Rambutan . . . lots of things fed into it. It wasn’t like my short stories, which tend to be more focused; this was stuffed with an odd variety of experiences, many of which I was almost sure didn’t actually fit together, but SARS and big ag’s products and business practices probably formed the backbone . . . mostly.

When I read books, I often like to find a character I can identify with and use that character to take me through the novel. I had a tough time doing that with The Windup Girl. Is this something you considering when crafting characters, or do you just let the story tell itself?

So you’re saying you didn’t identify with the characters? Or there wasn’t just one to follow? Let’s see, I guess I can say I wasn’t trying to screw with you, at least as far as identifying with characters. I identify pretty closely with all of them, actually. One of the things I keep hearing from people is how gray the characters are, or even, how deeply unsympathetic they are. And I always wonder at that, because I really love and sympathise with them. It’s not their fault that they’re all thrown into horrifying circumstances. They’re just doing the best they can. At least that’s my take. But maybe that’s an indication of my own personality flaws. As far as there not being a single character to follow, yes, that’s pretty deliberate. I wanted several different viewpoints on the world, points of access to understand the city and the way this strange world functions. Insiders and outsiders, rich and poor, officials and spies. And then I wanted them to all slowly change the world around themselves, without realizing that they were doing it or having any conception of where it would take them. I liked having small character actions build up to something huge and unanticipated.

For me, one of the most striking things about the novel was its setting, at least in part because I’ve never been to Thailand. Everything seemed so exotic and therefore, mysterious. I was as much swept up in the setting as I was in the plot and the character interaction. Have you ever been to Thailand? How much influence did that have (or not have) on creating this book?

I’ve been to Thailand several times. One of my early trips stuck with me enough that I couldn’t get it out of my head. When I was thinking about writing the book, I set it in Thailand, and then tried to move it elsewhere because I was daunted at the task of writing about a country where I didn’t have enough grounding. I ended up doing a lot of research, spending some more time over there, and honestly, still feeling like I didn’t have enough grounding. But, you know, writing is an act of hubris. So I went ahead anyway. I’m grateful that so many people were willing to help me along the way.

There is a lot in the novel about genetics, specifically in regards to food, farming, etc. Is that something you studied, or is it just a personal interest of yours?

It’s something that interests me. Food as a window into control. As a window into our industrialized culture. I’m interested in the new version of a food chain that exists thanks to food science, and this is one window into that. Also, the area I live in is quite rural, and it has a lot of organic farmers. They’re always concerned about what’s happening in big ag, so that fed into the initial worldbuilding.

What was the inspiration behind the kink-spring technology?

I was looking for a way to close down the world and make it feel more claustrophobic. I wanted food to be the sole source of power, and creating a world that ran on calories and kinetic energy seemed like the best way to do it.

And what about the concept of the New People?

Sexbots! It’s all about the sexbots. Seriously, though, it’s just another interesting aspect of genetic control. Once we can manipulate a tomato, why not a rabbit, or a cat, and then, inevitably, you start thinking about people . . .

Any particular reason for AgriGen’s headquarters being housed in Iowa?

It’s an agricultural company, I wanted to reinforce the point that the cradle of agriculture was now the center of power.

Some of the concepts and settings were hashed out in your short stories “The Calorie Man” and “Yellow Card Man.” Was there anything you created specifically for the book that you left out?

A lot of worldbuilding. There were some scenes that I really loved, and there was actually a whole other plotline that I ended up cutting out. Lots of stuff. I mean, I wrote this book probably three different times, with numerous false starts, so there’s plenty of stuff that ended up on the cutting room floor. One thing that I wish I’d done more with was the character of Yates, who only ended up with a bit of a cameo, poor bastard.

Speaking of short stories, when you have a new idea, can you tell right away whether it will be a short story or a novel?

You know, my current working theory is that any idea can work in any form. When I say, “idea” what I mean is seed concept. For example, I’ve been thinking about supply chains lately, or GM foods, or endocrine disruptors, or public relations companies, and want to work out my thoughts about them. A few years ago, Lou Anders at Pyr Books approached me about writing a story for Fast Forward 1, but he only had about 3000 words of space to give me. So I sat down, and I’d been interested in the concept of endocrine disruptors, so I started working out ways to say something interesting, within 3000 words. “Small Offerings” was the result. The story length defined the angle of the attack, but the idea could have become any number of stories, or story lengths. Later on, I still had more I wanted to play with in that realm, and I wanted to sell something to F&SF, so I started working on a novelette aiming at around 10,000 words, because that’s often a comfortable length for me and I get the pacing of novelettes. The result was “Pump Six”—also about endocrine disruptors. I’m sure I could sit down and write a novel about endocrine disruptors as well. I don’t think the idea, at least in the seed sense, defines the container. Sometimes, people come up with a structure, first, and maybe call that an idea. As in “I imagined a story all about a vampire who tells a reporter about the many frustrations and regrets of his undead life.” The seed idea might be “vampires.” But the rest of it is already running into structural demands. So basically, I think the seed idea has no inherent need to be in any storytelling form. It’s an act of will to shove it into your chosen form. At least, that’s my theory, today. Ask me again tomorrow, and I’ll say something else.

What makes The Windup Girl different from your other work?

Well, it’s really long. It’s this thing called a novel, see. And I never successfully wrote one before. So it’s big! That’s the big difference. It’s really big! And it also paid better than a short story. And people seem to like reading novels more than short stories, so people are actually reading this . . .

What was the hardest thing about writing The Windup Girl?

I had four different POV characters, all carrying a portion of a larger storyline, and halfway into the book, I realized one of the characters had to be completely reimagined. Which meant he had to be pulled out, get a new version of him created, and then thread him back into the story, fixing all the places where he had interactions with other characters and the plot, thereby changing everything. It was a bit like ripping out someone’s small intestine and then trying to insert a new one into gap, making sure that it bumped into all the organs correctly and that nothing else in the body was disarranged or misconnected.

What were you trying to accomplish artistically and thematically with The Windup Girl?

I’m just trying to make a living, man. Keep that theme grime off me. Seriously though, I think I’d rather have readers draw their own conclusions.

The Wind-Up Girl has hit all the major markers for awards, having made the final ballot for both the Nebula and Hugo awards. What does this mean to you? Were you surprised at the accolades the book’s received?

Just before the book was going to go to print, I had an urge to take it all back and try again, writing from scratch, because I was sure I could finally fix it if I could just start over. So in a lot of ways, all the the positive reviews and award nominations make me feel like I can finally let the book go. It seems to be a child that walks and talks--and for the most part plays well with others--so I should stop trying to correct it. It’s outside of me now, and that’s a relief.

Will you be able to go to Australia for Worldcon and the Hugo ceremony?

I very much want to, but finances are a bit of an issue. I’m still trying to figure out if I can pull it off.

What sort of pressure does this put on you for your next work?

Not much, actually. I went through an earlier period where the awards recognition for my short stories really messed with my head. A lot of unproductive worries about whether *this* story lived up to the reputation of *that* story. Stuff like that. And finally, I let it go. I just have to trust that if I’m doing honest work, and not taking shortcuts or getting lazy, that I’m going to produce something that’s worthwhile. I think the place I feel pressure now, more than anything, is in terms of writing books that are already contracted for. I’ve got several books under contract now, and that’s a very different feeling. Before, no one cared whether I finished a book or not. Now my publishers are standing around tapping their feet impatiently. It changes the creative dynamic, and I’m still learning how to work with that.

Which do you find more difficult to write, short stories or novels?

Novels. They take longer, and when you screw them up, you’ve wasted years of your life. Throwing away a 10,000 short story is easy. Watching a 120,000 word novel die . . . That’s brutal.

What writers are the biggest influence on your work?

Michelle Nijhuis, William Gibson, Ursula LeGuin, Michael Swanwick, J. G. Ballard, Cormac McCarthy.
At any point while writing this book did it change from what you originally set out to write?
Numerous times. It took me more than three years to write it. That’s a lot of time to wander around in the weeds, trying to hack your way out.

What five novels/works would you recommend to a new genre reader?

Depends what they like. Some people are going to be David Weber fans, some are going to be Naomi Novik fans, some will like George R. R. Martin. Some will like Charles Stross, or Cory Doctorow, or Cathyrenne M. Valente, or Daryl Gregory, and some of the poor souls are going to like mine. The genre isn’t monolithic. One person’s genius is another’s dreck. You’d have to be more specific about the new reader, before I’d even try.

What’s the last book you read?

I don’t normally finish books, so this is really more about the last book I opened. Last couple are: On Killing by Dave Grossman; The Assassin’s Gate by George Packer; The Great Game by Peter Hopkirk; The Patriot Witch by C. C. Finlay; and Kushiel’s Dart by Jaqueline Carey. I’m really hoping that I’ll finish a couple of them, this time. But my friends all make fun of me that I won’t.

Any teasers you can give us for what’s next?

My young adult novel Ship Breaker is coming out from Little, Brown, in May. It’s an adventure story about a child laborer on a ship-breaking operation in the Gulf Coast, post-peak oil and global warming. You know, my usual cheery stuff, except this time I actually let my characters have some win.

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What is your favorite food?

What do you eat for comfort food?

Bread and cheese and tea.

Is there anything you eat that no one you know eats?

Lots of things. Monstera, persimmons, beet juice.

Is there anything you won’t eat?

There are things I don’t *like*, but I wasn’t raised under the sort of economic circumstances that permit one to develop pickiness. I try to avoid octopus, because they are awfully smart.

Is there a childhood food that you miss?

The apples from my grandfather’s apple tree, eaten still warm from the sun.

Is there a favorite food you can’t get where you currently live?

Ethiopian is a little scarce in my neighborhood, but I live in the Northeast, which is both diverse and well-stocked.

(When) Where was your most memorable meal?

An amazing omakase dinner at Lily in Toronto in 2005, where there was more fabulous food than I have ever seen in one place.

If money was no object, what would your food splurge be?

Maybe a four-week tour of Great Restaurants of New York City? *g*

Who are your cooking influences?

James Barber, Alton Brown, Julia Child, and my mother.

What is your favorite drink?

Teaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

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So where do you go after you win a Hugo?

Moving into a new category for 2010 (for my work done in 2009), I can hope that another nomination (and win?) is in my future. Regardless, I can’t plan on it (given that I’ve moved up into Best Semiprozine and will be competing against the likes of Weird Tales, Locus, Clarkesworld Magazine, Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and others) and even should another nomination be in my future, a win seems unlikely. But that’s what I thought and said last year, and now there’s a Hugo on my shelf. There could be more World Fantasy Award nominations in my future, but a win there has proven elusive and is a completely unknown quantity given that it’s a juried award.

The magazine isn’t positioned to take on any of the newsstand magazines, and it’s not really in the same boat anyway. Sure, I believe that there are probably 15,000 people who have similar enough taste to mine to like what I publish. The trick is finding them, and we’re only a few-person show here. I’m more similar in taste and style to the online magazines, but I’m not sure I want to go that route. I like putting together a physical issue and having a product I can hold in my hands. Perhaps I’m showing my age.

I’ve also thought about electronic copies as a parallel offering with the print magazine, and I think that arena needs to be explored more. Perhaps an electronic version would work better than an online version. I do feel that new readers are found online—given that I’m not available on a newsstand—so there needs to some sort of online component to get people’s attention.
When I started Electric Velocipede, it was intended as a steampunk magazine. I can remember the visceral disgust people had to that suggestion (more than one person walked away from me). And now? Now I think I could launch a steampunk magazine to great success. I’ve got some great steampunk lined up for this year.

I need to pay authors better, and I think some things won’t change for me until I get that done. Given the size of the magazine, perhaps the pay is appropriate. Until we sell more copies, our budget can’t handle offering more money.

Something I’ve never talked about is my desire to try to create a literary journal type publication, but have it be all genre work and genre authors. That’s kind of what I have. Sure, a magazine like Tin House prints about twenty-four times the number of issues I print (and has about ten to twelve times the number of subscribers), but it took some them time to get there and they have a staff. Maybe this is something I can still aspire to.