Tuna tomato pasta sauce.

Ideal for penne; also, as I discovered last night, goes unspeakably well with basmati rice. Mostly it's very easy and quick. All quantities are ridiculously forgiving.

Two 400g tins chopped tomato
185g tin of tuna in brine
Ten to fifteen pitted black olives
Splat of tomato paste
Small amount of chili
Small amount of minced garlic
Any suitable herbs (oregano, etc.)

Put the water for the pasta or rice on the boil. Put the tomato in a frying pan and put it on the heat. Drain and add the tuna. Cut the olives in half and add them. Add the tomato paste, chili, garlic and optional herbs. Stir it all up properly. Keep it on simmer, stirring occasionally, while the pasta or rice cooks. Doesn't need cheese or anything on top, so you can feel self-righteous about the low fat content.

Serves three or four. Microwaves very well, so you may wish to make it by the vat for lunches. Would probably make a damn fine risotto.

(crossposted to eating_well and food_porn)

I need a 'cooking' icon.

Update: New cooking icon - thanks to ruthi for the pointer to Lileks. I've also done a metric shitload more.

System administration in literature.

You stand before the humming computers and you fight off terror. You feel a more-than-human wisdom crushing you to the earth, denying you the right to think for yourself. You know that the future should be in your own hands, but you can't wring that much independence of thought and action from the master controls.

The Big Brain can't know what a man is thinking, but the feeling is there - the guilt feeling. You want to escape but you can't. You look around you and see your own face mirrored back. You see on gleaming metal the haggard eyes and tight, despairing lips of a total stranger.

... Far down the vault a man was screaming. His fists were tightly clenched and he was screaming out imprecations against the humming computers. There was a hopeless rage in his eyes - rage and bitter, savage defiance. Even as he screamed he began to slouch forward, with the terrible weariness of a man trapped beyond all hope of rescue.

- Frank Bellknap, It Was The Day Of The Robot (1963), on the Blue Screen of Death.

On two occasions, I have been asked [by members of Parliament], "Pray, Mr. Babbage, if you put into the machine wrong figures, will the right answers come out?" I am not able to rightly apprehend the kind of confusion of ideas that could provoke such a question.

- Charles Babbage

"Oh, that," said Vimes. "I was talking about policing, not alcohol. There's lots of people will help you with the alcohol business, but there's no one out there arranging little meetings where you can stand up and say, 'My name's Sam and I'm a really suspicious bastard.'"

- Terry Pratchett, Feet Of Clay