Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

warm beer in a cold mug



I am, indeed, drinking warm beer in a cold (frosted) mug in recognition/celebration of the following facts:

1. Despite waving her frightening fingernails centimeters from my face during dozens of expansive gestures at our training today, my principal somehow did not put out my eye.

2. I have polished off a few more of the walnut-stuffed pickled baby eggplants that Chris and I bought in Skokie. I am always fearful of them, as is she, because they may or may not be properly sealed, and the labels are usually translucent from oil - but from the jar, or another source? It's kind of sketchy, but we like them anyway.

3. There was actually a frosty mug in the freezer when I wanted one!

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

limoncello


That is the limoncello my mom and I made. We soaked the peels of about 5 lemons in vodka for four days, then today we combined 1% milk and sugar and cooked it up, combined it with the infused vodka, and bottled it to take on our annual "up north" trip with the fam. It's good. I had never had a creamy limoncello, and generally I don't go for creamy things, but my mom found the recipe and really wanted to try it, and it is lovely.

Mollie says that when she texts my name it comes out as 'Messhut." I think that might be my new name for my apartment.

The days lately are weird. I guess I did injure my back, and it's causing my legs to hurt, too. I am trying to rest a lot, but as a result, I can't sleep at night from the inactivity. I am going out and doing things, but not exercising except for stretching. It also seems like I keep wearing the same shirt. That is an unrelated issue, though.

I'm taking a painting class and it feels great. I can't wait until I get to try out my new skillz on F.I.A.T.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Collard wraps, travel plans


Last night I made collard wraps. Big leaves of collard greens were flash-boiled, marinated, then rolled around a semi-delicious filling and cut into small rolls. I got the recipe from the book The Balanced Plate, but I didn't really follow her recipe for the filling, which I think is why it was only semi-delicious. Anyway, it was an exciting and pretty dinner.

I am going to Santa Fe in a couple of days for a writing retreat, and then staying on a bit to meander on my own. I'm worried about the writing thing, which is a professional article kind of writing thing. I already feel like I'm going to be the worst writer, the least academic, the laziest, etc., and have the least comfortable footwear on top of it. Maybe I should get some new shoes before I go.

I'm also in a mild (extremely mild) panic about meandering on my own, for some reason. I could count the times I have meandered new places on my own on many hands. It is not a big deal. I think I just shouldn't have read the guide book. The guide book made me feel like I should go everywhere and do everything, that I will be missing out on massive life experiences if I don't rent a car and drive to every canyon, pueblo, and top-notch margarita place in northern New Mexico. I was just planning on walking, going to the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum, drinking and eating good things, and going here as many times as possible. I guess I'll just see how ambitious I feel.

The last week of school was weird because school was canceled every single day because of a power outage. On the last day of school, the kids just had to come in and get their stuff out of their desks.

It's summer and I want to see bands and go to barbecues and sit in the sun and wear skirts. That's my agenda for the summer.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

tomatoes, cider, and gloom

Today I am gripped by a pointless melancholy, prompted by a visit to a farm stand.

There were tons of tomatoes of several varieties, and I bought a hefty bag of them. But I know, and they know, that the tomatoes' days are numbered.

This time of year, I eat at least a tomato, if not a few, a day.

Tomatoes on toasted wheat bread. Tomato slices eaten straight. Tomatoes eaten right side up, upside-down, with clothes on, naked, in the shower, in bed, chased with beer, snorted, worked into my performance pieces, etc. You get the idea. Tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes. I eat them. I love them.

But now it's getting past tomato time and getting into cider time.

And that reminds me that I'm really thirsty right now, and that cider seems to quench a thirst really well, but I didn't buy any today because I didn't know if I had sufficient cash in the wallet for cider and tomatoes.

The most melancholy thing of all is that, as it turns out, I did. If only I had known!

Friday, September 07, 2007

tote bag

I am in a listless place as far as writing goes - except for super cheesy country songs. The super cheesy country songs fall into my head already written, fully formed, with backup vocals and seventies-style strings already worked out. I hear them as they might sound coming out of a jukebox in some divey bar. The harmonies include one of those super deep male voices.

We had our North African dinner party last weekend (next up: South America). There was a ridiculous amount of amazing vegan food. I went to the farmer's market early, then I spent all day chopping and prepping for my Moroccan stew, only to leave it untended for a bit too long while on the phone in the other room. It burned a little. I thought, "Well, at least there's the Moroccan carrot salad," as I threw the carrot sticks into boiling water for a 10-second dip. I took the pot off the stove and was moving toward the colander in the sink when the HANDLE of the POT came suddenly DETACHED. Carrots and boiling water landed all over the kitchen, including my now-blistered left foot. So the carrots also didn't really work out, you know? And I lost my favorite pot. It was one of my grandma's wedding gifts in 1943 or 1944, so I guess it had been around. Still...

THe other ladies had made tons of amazing food, and my stew ended up being fine, really, as long as you didn't have the bad luck to get one of the crunchy burned bits, heh heh. Jen sent me pictures of our meal, which perhaps I will post a bit later. I have to go buy some Spiderman bedding for my neph right now.

School began and the kids aren't broken in to my ways yet. I'm determined not to constantly bring twenty-five tote bags* of schoolie stuff home every night, so I can also focus on the country songs in my head.



*when is the last time you heard someone say "tote bag?" oh my god. i am a person with a lot of tote bags, and not ones you'd find at some alternative craft fair. it happened to me without my realizing it. tote bags are such a teacher thing. do nashville songwriters have tote bags? how about the backup singers?

Thursday, August 23, 2007

3 cases of wanting to weep, though not sad

Jen called to tell me about the pricey but perfect nectarine she had today. It set her back more than a nectarine normally would, but it was totally worth it, she said. I understood, and felt happy that she would confide in me about her fruit purchases. I was reminded, too, of the time Norma visited me in Japan, and we went to a little town that had a kind of farmer's market going down. We saw a bin of lovely peaches, and marveled and laughed at the fact that they cost $10 each. Then, before I knew it, I was frantically whipping out my wallet and buying the biggest one. N. looked at me like I was insane. She, being of California, didn't understand that I hadn't had a fresh peach or any exciting fruits in awhile. That peach was amazing. I think I may have eaten it with tears of joy streaming down my face. That's how I like to remember it, anyway: Peach juice and salty tears charting a mingled course down my blissed out face. Sorry about that ridiculousness of that.

Once, years ago, a co-worker put some flowers on my desk at work, as was her occasional habit. Late in the morning, I started getting really red and itchy. It was maddening. I didn't connect it with the "flowers" (more like weeds, I think) until I caught a glimpse of them and had the urge to weep. I connected this emotional surge with the flowers, got rid of them, and the itchiness stopped. Cut to this week, when I have been super dry of eye, with burning skin. I even had to go without my contacts Monday, which I hate. I had no idea what was going on, until in the shower this morning, when I opened my way too expensive Lush "Big" shampoo, and the smell, which I had always liked, unexpectedly made me want to cry. Suddenly it all made sense! The crazy herbs in the shampoo were to blame! I washed my hair with good old fashioned chemicals instead and had no problems with my eyes today.

OK, I just spent too long reading message boards about a medical topic and I feel like I have subconsciously taken on all the bad writing style that is to be found in such places. Also, it's 3:00 a.m., which sucks. Actually, 3:00 a.m. doesn't suck; I quite like 3:00 a.m., which is part of my problem. What sucks is that I went to bed at 1:00 and it didn't work! And I can't sleep in very late tomorrow.

I have been watching the first season of Arrested Development. I like it so much! I had only seen a bit here or there. Who would anyone do - Buster or Gob?

Friday, August 17, 2007

off balance, but well shod

Today was a day of klutziness, bad timing, and poor coordination, saved only by seeing friends tonight, including J&J, who are visiting from Cali. I cooked my brown rice/avocado/corn/almond/red onion/dill pickle concoction for Jen, a.k.a. Birthday Girl to Be. Sadly, the red onion was pretty scant, for lo! When I went into the produce drawer, I found the following:

- a zucchini, frozen solid
- a yellow squash, frozen solid
- a red onion, frozen solid
- a carrot, frozen solid

Do you see a theme? Although the day was hot and humid, frozen vegetables did not bring me any comfort. All of these were beautiful specimens, from the organic farm, now changed into -sicles. This onion, for example. So pretty, but it's going to be all limp and weird when it thaws out.



My old friend Tomoko sent me this picture of a meal we shared in Japan two years ago now - an awesome and beautiful vegetarian place, where we had our own little room, with our own sliding shoji, and our own little pit to dangle our legs into beneath the table. The waiters unobtrusively brought course after course of tofu and vegetable dishes, each so different and good. Tomoko chose the place with me in mind. She is super good like that.



I've started setting up my room at school, but I have so far avoided all the terrible places where one goes to buy classroom supplies. My co-workers are getting ready for school through trips to office depotmax, the teacher store, etc. I have been getting ready through shoe buying. This year's group of kids is going to be better prepared in the areas of shoe knowledge and appreciation than any other group I've taught yet. Heels, wedges, flats, pointy toes, squared toes: It's an exciting time to be an educator!

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

coldhungry times ahead

Tonight I had my own pesto making party for one. All the basil I harvested from the pot outside my window was about to go bad (confession: actually, all that basil died in the dry summer no-rain heat. A professional farmer grew the basil that was about to go bad). First I made this lovely beet pesto. I put it on some broccoli for tomorrow's lunch. It is really good, for the beet-inclined. I myself am very inclined toward the beet. I just wish I had a food processor. My blender didn't quite do the trick. It's not nearly as pretty as hers, much chunkier, but it tastes really good.

Then, since I still had basil left, I made this asparagus pesto. I had made it before with a combination of asparagus and green peas. Today I made it with a mix of asparagus and edamame. Delightful! I did the fancy thing of putting it in an ice cube tray to freeze it for hard/cold/hungry times ahead.

Monday, January 15, 2007

greens and green



Couldn't get a good picture using just my computer as a camera, and with the wrong lighting, and clicking the "3-2-1-cheese!" button with my big toe, but I thought I'd show you anyway, because it's unbelievable. You see, I am a cooker of kale. Kale is a regular lunch item for me, and I steam it the night before, or sometimes I'll do something else with it. Usually just steamed in a bit of water, though, then sprinkled with plum vinegar. Today I thought about how variety is the spice of life, and I boldly bought PURPLE kale instead of regular kale. And the steaming water turned the craziest green I've ever seen. Not vegetable green at all. Not kale green. It turned spearmint green. Green like the emerald city. Green like jello and easter egg dye. A crazy and lovely green. And dude, I'm tired. I had to get up early and wait for my phone to ring with news of school being canceled due to ice. I had to lie in bed before my alarm and focus on my phone. Kids were already off but teachers had to work. I had to lead a training at my old jr. high school and was NOT enthused. "Ice, ice, baby," I said to my phone, but the call never came. The ice barely even came. It's coating all the trees and had encased my car, but hadn't made the roads bad enough for the phone to ring. So I had to go through with it, my long and belabored day, then lackluster spinning class, and yet despite being this tired I still managed to rouse the energy to take this picture. So that should tell you what a lovely, super-special kind of green this is.

Not kermit green; closer to glowing alien green when the lighting is a little dim.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

once upon a pea-green booth


Things about Drake's, which you might find interesting or amusing even if you never went there:

1. There was a "chicken loaf" which would periodically have to be sliced and made sandwich-ready. Only employees 18 and older could use the chicken loaf slicer. One night when I was working, my co-worker S. had her inaugural chicken loaf slicing experience (I had removed myself from the task on grounds of vegetarianism - but did the loaf contain meat?) in the basement. Mr. Tibbals, grouchy old man with expressive cane/owner of Drake's, came in later that evening and saw that the chicken had been sliced. "Where are the scraps?" he demanded. "Scraps?" mused S. "The chicken scraps! For the chicken salad!" "I threw them away, sir. I didn't know." Pause. Tap of cane. "Well go get 'em!" Then he watched wheezily as S. dug bits of chicken out of the garbage. We warned customers against that batch of chicken salad, unless one of our sworn enemies came in. You know how many enemies I had back in the day.

2. Mr. Tibbals arrived by cab around 8:00 or 9:00 each night. He mostly sat in a little room in the basement, smoking and...we didn't know. I feared he was lost in the sad mists of "good-old-days" style nostalgia as his punk rock employees freely stole from the cash register (I didn't though! honest!). He'd usually still be there at opening time the next morning, then be taken away by cab shortly after. Whoever opened had to go make sure he was still alive.

3. Mr. T. believed that girls should wear skirts with our Drake's t-shirts. So we would wear our regular clothes and then frantically get changed into skirts just before his arrival time. Once Steve O., who had long hair, wore a skirt, and Mr. T. thought he was a girl. Mr. T. also thought S. was a boy because she had short hair. She went with it because then she didn't have to change into a skirt.

4. Mr. T. insisted that we put mayonnaise on everything (Note: I have a total repulsion towards mayonnaise and have since I was a kid), even peanut butter and jelly. He also had a one-scoop-per-shake rule. These rules made the food bad and so were followed only when he was sitting at the counter over his Campbell's clam chowder.

5. Drake's was famous for the limeade and the lime ricky (limeade with fizzy water).

6. We paid ourselves out of the antique cash register each night, some more freely than others (see #2).

7. All the employees were heavy smokers. I was not. All the other employees were basically on a smoke break the whole time. I was not.

8. There were lots of kinds of teas and they were served in little orange plastic pots.

9. There were jars and jars and flat thingies of candy, some of which had clearly not been opened since the 30's or 40's (anything anise was dusty-looking), others which had to be refilled regularly (like the turtles and the malted milk balls).

10. Downstairs in the basement was the "chocolate room" where all the backstock of candy was kept. It was an exciting place to be, all quiet and sugar-scented.

11. Mr. Tibbals told a story about a time in the 50's or 60's when the bread was still homemade. It would be left to rise overnight. One morning, a lady (in a skirt, I'm sure) baked it and then sliced it, and blood started squirting out. Turns out a rat had climbed in and slept there as the dough rose, then had been baked into the loaf. Telling this story was the only time I saw Mr. T. laugh.

12. Customers wrote their orders on an order form and left it on the counter. When the slackers behind the counter had prepared their feasts, perhaps some olive salad on toast, cut on the diagonal into fourths, or a Princeton double-decker sandwich (I'll have to dig out my souvenir menu to remember what was on that one), the order was yelled out for the patron to come fetch.

13. You never really knew who was there, in the high-backed booths, but chances were Prince-of-Wales Tea guy or White Chocolate Covered Pretzels Guy or any other number of regulars were there.

14. The olive salad was a can of olives pressed through this metal grinder that looked like a pencil sharpener. Of course, it was then mixed with mayonnaise (I can't write "mayo." Sounds too collegial, like I'm using a pal's nickname). Sometimes I'd leave out the mayonnaise for my own personal delicacy.

15. Then there was The Drake's Five. Quite a dramatic sitch. Mr. T. could barely see the clam chowder in front of him, poor man, let alone tell genders or sexual orientations apart (#3, above). So when two very butch women were sharing a bowl of soup, Mr. T. flew off the handle and kicked them out (side note: he kicked some people out for singing once when I was there, too). Why did he kick them out? He had a strict rule against people sharing tea or whatever. You had to get your own order. But the two women insisted they'd been kicked out for being gay, and soon a sad little picket line formed outside of Drakes. Some former Drake's employees counter-protested. The whole thing is hilarious to think about.

16. Awesome old phone booth in back, plus the Walnut Room and Martian Room, both upstairs, the Martian Room all space-age 1950's, only open when the main floor booths were full (rare by the '90's). The Walnut Room was used for storage but was a swank ballroom dance venue in its day.

17. I could go on, but... is anyone still reading??? Now who's lost in the "sad mists of 'good-ol-days' nostalgia" (see #2)?

Sunday, January 07, 2007

Not understanding how time works


Today I cooked a brown rice salad that has corn, avocadoes, toasted almonds, onions, and dill pickles in it! I also made a cucumber-fennel salad, and I did the first step in a six-week eggplant curing process. I also mopped the kitchen and bathroom floors and I did some other housewifery type things. I will have good things to eat this week, and could even eat them off the floor if I wanted to!

Last week was all about insomnia, which I associate with deserts. Each night was its own separate desert, stretching agonizingly flat and dry, with barely enough sleep to fit in the shadow of one cactus. It's hard not to approach breakdown territory when these two things are true: 1. You have barely slept for three nights in a row, and 2. Your students, after several weeks of learning about local, state, and national government, think that Washington, D.C. belongs in the "Local" category. Yes, hard not to approach breakdown territory then.

What's saving my bacon* right now is that I don't have a regular day tomorrow, so I probably won't have insomnia, because I won't be worried about having insomnia, because I can sleep a little later than usual, you know? And here's how my understanding of time goes: I don't have to be at the place I have to be until 8:25 - an hour and a half later than I usually get to work. So I believe that means that tonight I can stay up as late as I want, and can also plan to get a bit of exercise in the morning, stop at the bank so I have cash for lunch, and stop for coffee. In my mind, I don't actually have to be there until 1 p.m.

*When I had the translation company job, there was a British guy who did German translation from our office sometimes and if I did him a favor he'd say, "Thanks, you've saved my bacon this time!"

That just reminded me of going into the basement of Drake's in Ann Arbor, the amazing candy store/sandwich shop of 1929 vintage and of questionable health code status, and finding several containers labeled "Fish Grease."

And that made me go online for pictures, etc. of Drake's, which made me kind of blue and nostalgic. I could write a whole lot about crazy Drake's... too bad it's a Bruegger's Bagels now, and they ripped out all the pea-green booths and covered or removed the beautiful tin ceilings. Wouldn't want it to look different than the other Bruegger's Bagels, right?

Friday, November 24, 2006

i just now got home from the place i come from. let's give a shout out to warren, ohio, where both my parents grew up and where i lived on and off as a kid. it was not a happy visit, though. my grandma died earlier this week. i'd already been missing the real her for a long time, but i found out that i could miss her even more. someday i'll write about her cinderella story and her glittery beehive and her sparkly shoes. she had a hard beginning and a hard end, but a damn fine middle. that's the good thing.

i definitely associate her with food. she always had these mints around. actually, warren, oh is all about food to me.












i was the last one of my family to head back to detroit today, so before i left town i picked up six half-cooked pizzas from my dad's favorite pizza place, sunrise pizza, and delivered them around to our various homes in mi. the picture is of their classic "old world" pizza, with hot peppers added. my car smells pretty awesome right now.









i also brought home a hunk of cookie dough that my aunt made from my great-grandma's recipe (on the other side of the family). We cut out, baked, and decorated some cookies last night, which my aunt is using for her holiday stuff, and she sent two more hunks of dough with me and my sister so we can make some, too. Sure. I am pretty positive that i will end up slowly eating the raw dough instead.

this photo should be subtitled "me, after crying for three days, sleeping on a leaky air mattress, and driving for five hours with wet hair that dried badly, in a car that smelled like a pizzeria."

Thursday, November 16, 2006

No more workhorse.

(from biologyreference.com)

I'm trying to think of anything non-work related right now and i'm drawing a mean blank. Yes, a mean one. Work is an amoeba and I'm the thing it's engulfing (shown above). Do you remember drawing pictures of amoebas engulfing things? I do. In high school biology, I guess. Or maybe work is a mass of green jello and I'm the pineapple trapped inside. That's more of a grade school cafeteria memory. See, all my memories relate to various schools! Who am I? All I do is work or sleep so that I can work or make lunches to eat at work or put things in/take things out of bags carrying work materials. Conferences again tonight. "Your daughter lacks intellectual rigor." "Your son smells my shoes."

There are amazingly few good pictures online of pineapple trapped in jello. This one will have to do. The jello sites make me queasy. They usually also involve a lot of mayonnaisey and cream-of-something soup recipes. I am grossed out by those things.

So, I do have an identity beyond school! Awesome. It's about food.

By the way, do you think I should wear my Apples-n-Alphabet outfit tomorrow, or my sassy "READ" overalls with accompanying turtleneck? It's so hard to make these decisions each day! Also, all jokes aside, you will, won't you, sit me down if this ever really happens to me?

Monday, November 13, 2006

Ouch, and then some

1. I hate Emily Dickinson. And I hate that I suddenly can't remember if it's spelled Dickenson or Dickinson. I hate all those dashes she uses, and her prim outfits, and how she was all morbid and housebound. And I really hate that we have the same birthday.

2. Today I have numb and tingly legs. Scary things come up when you google "Numb and tingly legs," by the way. But I think it has to do with my lower back, and some pinched nerves, perhaps? I wonder if it's all the fault of those blasted standing sprints in spinning class?

3. Had a feast from LaShish at Deborah's for her birthday yesterday. Me, Deborah, and Tim ate and cracked up about stuff while Isidora dozed in a hugely oversized sweater, which was super cute. I wondered why she seemed to be struggling to keep her eyes open at times. I do that when I want to finish a chapter or a movie or something, or when I'm teaching a boring lesson or sometimes while driving, but what reason does a newborn baby have? Succumb to the sleep while you can, Izzy!

4. Sheesh, LaShish is so damn good. I wouldn't say no to a bed of hummous with pine nuts, with some of that awesome soft bread for pillows. What do you think of this for their new motto: "SHEESH, LaShish is good!" Would it make you want to go there? I want to go there right now. But I'll bet that uptight Emily Dickinson would have never wanted to eat there. Loser!

5. Like I am even capable of ever teaching a boring lesson!

Thursday, October 26, 2006

nasu dengaku meets the d

I had a student start a piece of writing with, "Fortunately, I had a mullet."

So, I think youtube is a bad thing for me, now that I realize I can see other people having fun in Japan there. It makes me want to be in Japan. I am super restless and wish I could travel. I realize I'm not unique in this way. But although I'm excited about my two events in Detroit this weekend, and I'm a big fan of Detroit, compare Detroit and Tokyo for a moment:




I trust I don't have to point out which is which.

OK, I'm joking, of course. That is Detroit, and a beautiful photo at that, and it's from Detroit Bike Blog. But this is a more true picture of Detroit:



It's not bad. But can you get nasu dengaku like this??? No. For that you need Tokyo, which is where I photographed this and many other meals.

Monday, October 16, 2006

Swiss chard, lentils, peppers, apples, and almonds


And here it is, everyone...tomorrow's lunch.

Monday, October 09, 2006

At least I'm not bitter



For a long time, i've loved eggplant. I love it in baba ganouj form; i love it japanese-style, broiled with miso, or else as tiny little pickles. I love it Chinese, in a spicy peanut sauce, or Italian as a component of ratatouille. I don't really like it breaded and deep-fried, but otherwise, I've rarely met an eggplant i didn't like.

Then there are these little guys. So cute, I thought when I spotted them at Eastern Market. Such delightful aubergine jewels. For a couple of dollars, I had a bagful. I daydreamed, looked up recipes, made plans for how I'd change my eating habits now that these new friends had entered my world. And then... and then...

I cut them up. I decided to saute them with some spices and tomatoes. I had them cooking over a fairly low heat, waiting for them to get soft and succulent. Now I know that eggplant can be bitter, but this was crazy. The cooking process seemed to actually release bitterness into the air. Soon I was literally gagging, choking on bitterness. I don't know how else to describe it. I turned on the fan, hoping to spare my neighbors, most of whom I've never met. Many of them are old, possibly weak, unlikely to fare well with bitterness vapors filling the lungs. I didn't want to be responsible.

I gagged. I actually gagged.

I turned off the heat and let the eggplant cool.

I dumped it all into the garbage and made a peanut butter sandwich.