For the Old Folks:
I was going to preface this by saying that I hadn't done these in, oh, three years, and I only had about 45 minutes to spend on them, but then I saw how much people charge for proper ones, and, well, for something I put together in the "spare time" of my job (and for what my job pays me), they're not half bad.
Chez Sean and Jen, while sans tuxedo strawberries, looked like this:
For something that starts out vegan, it sure as hell is hard to find vegan chocolates. I'd swear there was some kind of omniverous conspiracy, except that it's hard for something to be a conspiracy when it's overt.
But whatever; among other things, I'm evil and can cook, as one might say. I'm also nice and can share, because the joy is first in the making, and then in the giving. Or something sappy like that.
I wonder, though: does posting food pictures all the time make me into some kind of food-whore? "Look at me! Look at me! I make wickedly cute/ delicious-looking food, which makes up for my not-so-wickedly cute self!" I mean, it's not like I've got my Amazon wishlist up here so you can buy me pretty trinkets and love. (Though, if you wanted, you're certainly welcome to spend money on me here or here.) And I'm willing to share, at least. Camwhores don't do tha-- anh, nevermind; I don't think I want to go there.
I've been working on another, non-picture-of-food post, but I keep feeling guilty for blogging instead of writing my school papers. Ironically, the post is on how I feel guilty for blogging and not, you know, writing my school papers. Sometimes life is obvious and painful like that.
I blame the endorphins. The lovely, terrifying endorphins.
It's been a while since I made Liene jealous food, drank a lot, and then posted pictures. Of the food, I mean. Because there have never been pictures of me drinking a lot. Trust me. Please?
Spring Break, more Spring Break, whatever the hell happened last weekend-- time sometimes slips away, no? When Life is good and papers are due?
Oh. Right. That's what I was supposed to do today.
Whatever. My new matra is "School sucks." Well, after, "Je suis le fucked," of course.
Wasabi
(Sushi, too)
Suimono (with Tofu, Kombu and Brunoise Vegetables)
Vegetable Tempura over Rice Noodles with Ohagi [Rice Balls with Azuki Bean Paste]
Chocolate Hazelnut Torte
Basically, my dinner revolved around dessert (though, sadly, they're all gone now):
There were other things, too, I guess:
Ah, Spring Break. So much time, so little to do. Wait-- um, no, not so much. But I DO need a vacation. Since I didn't buy a ticket to Oregon, I've had to be "creative" and "think a little." It's been rough, let me tell you.
Here's what I'm think, though, starting next Friday:
- A day down in Baltimore. Baltimore's a pretty crappy town, though, and I'm really only hanging out there because I have a place to stay. Really, I want to:
- Spend a day in D.C. Blah blah blah, tourist crap, AND check this out! Yeah, basically I'm just going down there to see the daffodils. God, they make me SO EFFING HAPPY, THOUGH. Seriously, I can't express how much happiness they give me. They just make my brain swim in seratonin. Meg would say that's the touch of the Grace of God. Whatever it is, I like it. A lot. So, um, yes, it's all about the daffodils.
-It's also about Nature, in general. So I'm going down to the Smoky Mountains for a few days. After I decided to go there, I was like, "Hey, I bet there are some other cool places to visit along the way, too, no?" And, sure enough, there are. I don't know what, exactly I'm going to do or see or visit, and I think, for once, I'm ok with that. I'm just going to hang out for a few days. Here, there, wherever. This is Spring Break, right? And you only live once? Hopefully, I'll be back by the Friday after next, so:
- I can spend the weekend in Boston! I don't know if this one is going to work out, yet. I talked to my uncle, who has a place in Boston, a week ago, and he thought there would be a room available for me, but he had to check. Ho-hum. I'm less excited (despite my use of the exclamation point) about visiting Boston than Nature. I think it's the People thing, mostly. But life's about trying new things, no? Maybe it won't kill me to get out a little more. (Maybe it will, though, and wouldn't THAT be ironic.)
Looking back over my list, it seems like quite a bit. I'm so low-key and lazy most of the time. (Well, not lazy so much as I just don't like going to new places, but the result is substantially similar whatever the imputus.) Anytime in the past, if people were to make book on my life, I would not suggest betting on me following through with such an ambitious list. But, I don't know, things seem different right now. Thoughts of daffodils and camping and the Newseum roll around in my head.
I have energy. Excitement. Willpower. Maybe I'm the anti-Samson. (I cut all my hair off today. [Well, *I* didn't cut it, and it's not *all* gone, but those are both merely technicalities at this point.]) I guess a bunch of things happened/ I did a bunch of things today. But those are stories for another time. Today's been good, though. I think I'm ok. The upward spiral, you know?
Or something like that.
I have this store-bought way
Of saying I'm ok
And you learned how to cry in total silence
We're talented and bright
We're lonely and uptight
We've found some lovely ways to disappoint
-The Weakerthans
I was so awesome today. I made delightful (yet obviously pretentious-looking) chocolate mice to bribe Lynette with tomorrow, read chapter upon chapter of some boring-as-shit politics of international law book, wrote pages of notes in preparation for my tutorial with Seth, took out the garbage and recycling, changed the oil in my car, sat on the banks of the Ashuelot River, and still had time for tea.
Today was great.
as for us
there is a love we can't help
there is our bravery
how we dance in and out of each other's arms
-Patrick Friesen
In a dream
You were sitting there waiting by the door for me
And I got the opportunity
To experience the experience once again
How it could have maybe been
But in real life
-Grandaddy
Canevale time. Or, how Sunny was sick, and didn't publish the day's menu, and I didn't want to be outdone by the Dining Hall. Yes. That was a little joke. Me making fun of all of you little Marlboro meal plan students. And by little, I, of course, mean that in a manner of speaking way. Ahem. Anyways, please don't hate me. It's not kosher. Or lenten.
Lasagna Canevale (portabellas, eggplant, soyrizo, miso tofu, tempeh bacon, spinach), Schiacciata alla Fiorentina, Broccoli with Pine Nuts (I accidentally ate all the breadsticks before I took the picture [don't ask, please])
Zipulas
OMG. I am going straight to hell for these. And if they served these in hell, I'd be looking around for good intentions, trying to find the pathway there. Potato saffron dough fried in UNGODLY amounts of oil, which is then used to soak up UNGODLY amounts of powdered sugar. I could die right now. (In many different ways.)
My sister makes me happy sometimes
I was feeding my sourdough tonight, and thought about making sourdough pancakes instead of all of that. But then I remembered I'm Irish, not English. I remembered, too, when my dad used to make sourdough pancakes for dinner once in a while. I must have been really young, because it was when he was a bachelor. He wore a blue apron that had a little red "J" on the front. He used to make cheese rarebit, too. It was always curdled; I'm not sure if it's supposed to be that way.
It's strange how these moments pop up, and haunt you in the middle of the night. Really, those are just fragments of memories I have. They seem happy, though. I've seen pictures, too, of me, when I was young, and I seemed happy. I wish I had some way of remembering, in a meaningful sense, happy memories with my dad. They seem important. They seem like something I should have. Something I need to have.
I miss my mom, too. It's been so long since I talked with her. She didn't even send me a Christmas card this year. I was so wrapped up in my little world of happiness, I didn't notice. And now I do. And I miss her so terribly much. And I don't understand why she can't call me. Or write me. Or email me with her stupid little capital letters that she uses because she can't read the screen well anymore.
I miss the things I shouldn't miss. I want the things I shouldn't want. I need the things I shouldn't need.
I go back to the beginning, and look at all those measured spoonfuls, and wonder if it's still worth it, after all.
I'm like a broken record
That you can play
Repeating as if it matters
Everything I want to say
I'll be all right
As long as it matters
As long as you're here with me now
Forget that time
It's nothing we touch and see
All this is fine
Even as it crashes down on me
-Gin Blossoms
Cordial cherries dipped in fondant
Finished Cordials
Chocolate Peanut Clusters
Coconut Truffles
My HOMELY mice
Yes, my sad, homely- looking mice. Poor little guys. At least they're still tasty. If I were selling these things I guess I'd be able to make another batch, and, you know, make them look like ACTUAL mice (because at least I know what I did wrong). But selling them wouldn't be nearly as much fun. As Brother Edward says, "The joy is first in the making, and then in the giving; I am doublely blessed." And I am. (If you wanted to buy me chocolate, or nuts, or quarter sheet pans, or rechargable "AA" batteries, or even just a bottle of Port, I certainly wouldn't mind, though.)
Eh, so, anyways, I have chocolates to give away. If you want some, you should buy me stuff ask. And smile. And not make fun of my homely mice, but rather eat them joyfully, and hide the conclusive evidence that I am NOT a pastry chef.
Today was good. Completely, totally good.
Well, except for the part where my uncle called, and told me that my mom had ruined their family's Thanksgiving, and he and my aunt are going to sue her. But I was happily toasted by that point, and, tonight, I just don't give a fuck. It's all about their inheritance, too. Whatever, you whiny little bastards. Why not just love your mom, who's going to die soon. I guess that's what happens in a family of lawyers.
My brother called, too, and totally made up for the crazy side of my family. He's misguided, for sure, but at least he's sane. Well, as sane as I am.
And not only am I sane, but I'm a-o-k. I had such a blast, spending the whole day in the kitchen. Wouldn't it be cool, I wonder, if I could go somewhere and cook all day, and get paid for it. That would simply be the best.
I am totally watching feel-good movies, too. Mostly, because I feel good. I'd tell you all about it, but then there wouldn't be much point in being socially phobic. Plus, the others would kick me out of the shy kids club.
I think, at this point, it could go without saying that I've been having a little bit of wine with my dinner. And my cooking. And my talking on the phone. Delish. I love the wines at the co-op. They have handy signs with helpful advice. Also, somewhat related, I seem to have lost some weight over the past three months. Good if I'm anorexic; not so good if I'm drunk. I'll try to eat a little more tonight.
Yes. Today is a very good day. If yours didn't go so well, come on over. I have food. I have wine. I have friendly company. And today, just today, I'm willing to share. Because I'm thankful like that.
