I found this glass paperweight, with its two little goldfish, at an estate sale.  I’ve never understood paperweights or the purpose they’re supposed to serve.  It’s not like anyone has to worry about hurricane-force winds blowing through their office, whipping their important papers into a tornado-like frenzy.

Hurry, hurry — get out the paperweights!

Paperweights are pretty much just desk bling.  I can certainly understand how two glass goldfish suspended in a glass bubble for eternity would be preferable to real goldfish in a glass fishbowl, for desk bling and pretty much all other purposes.  If you have kids, you have no doubt come home from a carnival at some point with a goldfish in a baggie:

Who the heck came up with the idea of a goldfish as a carnival prize?  What on earth were they thinking?   If you want to give something living as a prize, wouldn’t a plant be better?   The instant the carnie guy hands a kid a bagged up goldfish, the kid bonds with it, like he gave birth to it.  Within minutes, the fish has a name, and the fantasy of a fun-filled life with fishie begins.  So you go straight from the carnival to the pet store to buy a bowl, and gravel, and a fake plant, and a plastic treasure chest, and fish food, because if you’re like most folks, you don’t have a koi pond waiting to receive your fishie.  But it’s a waste of money, because chances are the fishie will not be looking too good by the time you get it home, and it’s just a matter of time before you are holding toiletside services while flushing Nemo.  In fact, every carnival goldfish should come with a commodeside prayer book and a Baskin-Robbins coupon (where you will likely wind up trying to comfort your grieving kid).  I have one question — WHERE IS PETA?  Why aren’t they protesting at carnivals across the nation to try to put an end to this fishie abuse?

The bulging eyeballs on the goldfish in the paperweight remind me of something my Dad once said.  I used to love tapioca as a kid, until the day my Dad told me that when he was little he used to call it “fish eyeballs.”  That was it for me — I didn’t eat tapioca for decades after that.

Tapioca is a starch that comes from the cassava plant.  It’s used as a thickener, and is considered to be gluten-free.  It’s processed into a variety of forms, including the “pearls” used to make tapioca pudding (large tapioca pearls are the “bubbles” in bubble tea).  The pearls are opaque when dry, but become translucent when cooked in liquid.

Inspired by the little fishies in the glass paperweight, and memories of my Dad’s warped humor, I made good old-fashioned tapioca pudding, using the recipe on the package.  I had only ever made the instant kind, and it was definitely a LOT more work (2 days in the making) to make it from non-instant tapioca, but it was worth it — it is creamier and smoother than the instant variety.  You begin by soaking the tapioca in water overnight (or a week or so — no one’s counting).  Once I realized that I didn’t have to stand over the double boiler for an hour because it cooks at such a low temperature that it isn’t going to burn, the process became quite a bit easier.  Although I had always been served tapioca pudding chilled, the package says that it “is divinely soothing when served warm and delightfully refreshing when chilled.”  Having tried it both ways now, I’d have to agree.

 To make old-fashioned tapioca pudding, use this kind.

 Not this.

 Tapioca pearls after soaking overnight (or for a week or so)

 Milk and tapioca cooking in double boiler over very low heat

 Garnished with whipped topping and berries, it’s “delightfully refreshing”

 Fishie eyeballs, indeed!