Hammers, Hacksaws, and Lots of Sugar

On Friday morning, Amanda and I packed my car full of cake-decorating supplies, shortening, cream cheese, butter, powdered sugar, aprons, rolling pins, fondant, airbrush equipment, and 14 separate frozen cakes, and drove to New Albany, Indiana to make 2 huge cakes for our friend Monica’s wedding. Amanda and I started work on the groom’s cake as soon as we reached the church. Adam wanted the cake to resemble a dirt racetrack, so we had to hack apart an extra cake to make the hills and jumps, and make an obscene amount of whipped frosting. During the summers, Amanda works at a local cake and coffee place, and sweet-talked her old boss into letting her borrow the pastry airbrush for this cake. The flower girls, waiting for the rehearsal to start, crowded around as we sprayed the cake in green and brown, and stared in amazement as Amanda used a pastry bag and specialty tip to create tufts of grass all around the painted track. I ran to the nearest superstore for a faux pine wreath and wire cutters, and made little pine trees to go with the toy car garnish.



Everything went smoothly for the groom’s cake; the bridal cake, on the other hand, was a struggle from the first. The huge layers of spice and pumpkin spice crumbled at the lightest touch, and we had to lighten the cream cheese frosting recipe to keep from tearing the cakes as we crumb-coated them. This being a very large and tall cake, we needed to cut wooden dowels to support each layer – Amanda had brought Lee’s pocketknife to cut the dowels, and after 1 hour, I had cut 4 of the 25 necessary supports. We retreated to Monica’s parents’ house, hoping to find something more powerful than a pocketknife, and were so happy to find a radial saw in their basement, which took care of the rest of our dowels in less than 10 minutes.

Natch, we discovered the next morning that I had measured the dowels incorrectly. I was sent back to the superstore to buy more dowels, a small hacksaw, and a sifter (I had broken Mrs. Adkins’ sifter the night before – the poor old thing just came apart in my hands).

We frosted and swirled the cakes a second time, and after removing our heels and any objects higher than 2 millimeters off the floor to ensure no tripping between the kitchen and the fellowship hall, we carried each layer out to the table. After all the layers were stacked, we had to hammer a sharpened dowel through the center of the stack to make sure they wouldn’t slide during the cutting process. This time, Amanda failed to measure the dowel, and we spent a breathless couple of minutes with her holding the mostly-submerged dowel steady and me gently working away with the hacksaw an inch or so above the cake. All through the ceremony, Amanda and I fought the impulse to run out of the sanctuary to make sure the cake hadn’t toppled.



We were also given the task of cutting and serving the cake, which was much more complex and sticky than I could have imagined. The cake, due to its moist deliciousness, proved difficult to slice cleanly. We also battled the customary nuisance at any wedding – an adorable yet annoyingly precocious 5-year-old boy, who was constantly underfoot, insisting on “helping”, and dropping plates of cake onto the carpet. By the end of the reception, the cake table looked like the battleground at Agincourt, smothered by the fallen chunks of cake.

The Willing Hostage of Adolescent Culture

The Time: Today. 11:15 am

The Place: Fandango.com

The News: Tickets already sold out for 12:01 am showing of the Twilight movie

The Reaction: Text Amanda, brace myself for onslaught of panic from numerous female friends, plan to buy ticket for 12:05 am showing.


Grad-school snobbery aside, the Twilight series has been a great guilty pleasure for me over the past year, and I’m looking forward to the late-night premier event filled with squealing teenagers and hunky vampires. How can anyone who truly loves literature be dismayed about this much frenzy over a book? It may not be Shakespeare, but it may also be paving the way to a lifetime of literary exploration for thousands of students. Every time I’ve stepped into my local Barnes & Noble in the past year, I’ve witnessed the exact same scene and couldn’t help smiling: a person or group of persons walking away from the massive red and black Twilight display is stopped by a person or group of persons walking towards the Twilight display.

“Is that the latest Twilight book?”

“Yeah, it’s awesome! I already read my school library’s copy (or a friend’s copy, or the local library’s copy), but I wanted one for myself. You’re going to love it!”

“I still think the first book was the best.”

“Wait till you try this one. It’s even better!”

“Oh, sweet!”

So, when I’m standing in line next week, surrounded by teens dressed as vampires and clutching their black and red tomes, I’ll remember that this is a display of the power of the English language, and keep the sarcasm to a minimum.

Amanda has taken great pride in passing the books along to all her neighbors, friends, and relatives, and started planning this evening several months ago. We’re getting together tonight to buy our tickets online, and to plan some pre-movie activities. I’m not sure what the others have in mind; I just hope it doesn’t involve costumes.

Professional Maturation

I'm freshly back from my first business trip, and somehow I feel much more grown up - the mystery is gone from a few of the multitude dark corners of human experience.

My company has service branches scattered throughout the world, and manufacturing plants in Illinois, South Carolina, Spain, and Germany. Since knowledge of the machine is fairly important when it comes to writing its manual, my position has a built-in excuse for travel, but this was the first time that I dared to take advantage of it. Fortunately, my job still retains a great deal of mystery within the engineering department, and I can make most of my own decisions without even consulting my superiors; my immediate boss suffers from a lack of manegerial motivation and a fear of women as a species, which explains why he hasn't asked for an update on my work since January.

I flew down to South Carolina on Monday, after stopping by my office for a few hours to do some last minute work and leave the boys a plate of peanut butter cookies. Anton's secretary had arranged all my transportation for the trip; I must have done something recently to make Anton happy, because I stepped out of my apartment to find a white limo standing ready to take me to the airport. I sat in the back seat, wrapped in my Indian shawl, reading Gaskell's North and South, and feeling very grown-up and professional.



For those of you who have never visited Chicago's O'Hare airport, the place is a labyrinth. It has four separate terminals, connected by a monorail system, and covers enough ground to merit its own zip code. The first time I went there to pick someone up, it took me nearly an hour just to find her. Fortunately, O'Hare is a little easier to navigate when you're the tourist. I checked my bag, and wandered half a mile to the end of one of the terminals to encounter the first of my "firsts": an itty bitty airplane. Apart from brief rides in a helicopter and a hot air balloon, all of my aerial travels were taken in big Boeing aircrafts; it was so exciting to be able to walk out onto the tarmac and smell the jet fuel and hear the roar of planes all around me. I was half tempted to turn around and give the peace sign when I reached the plane door, but I managed to restrain myself.

After reaching Charleston, my second "first" involved renting a car. Yes, you heard right, I've never rented a car before. The man at the counter tried to sweet talk me into signing up for all the insurance and fuel packages, but I was forewarned at Peddinghaus that I was already covered by the compnay's insurance, and so I was able to refuse them all with confidence. I got in my little silver Chevy Cobalt, and struck out for Georgetown in the rapidly approaching darkness. Once there, I had the last of my "firsts": checking into a hotel by myself. By the end of the day, I felt so grown-up and experienced (feel free to snicker if you know me at all).

My work in Andrews went well; I had little to do, since the computers were not set up correctly, and I could not do half the work I had originally planned on. Andrews gives the feeling that it's in its death throes; driving along the main street, you can see nothing but gutted commercial and residential buildings, mouldering trailer homes, torn-up streets, and men and dogs wandering the roads with empty eyes. I called my mom at lunch to tell her that I had wandered into a Stephen King novel - it's that creepy.

Fortunately, I was able to find a dose of civilization every night, in the form of an Asian bistro and sushi bar called Emi. After work, I would go to the hotel, change, drive to Pawleys Island, and spend at least an hour lingering over delicious sushi. Trav, you'll be proud of me - I tried salmon skin for the first time, and loved it!

And so, here I am, back at home, and feeling well-traveled. Next stop: Vittoria, Spain! (That is, after over six months, and only after I have come up with an airtight reason to go.)

Because I'm Too Lazy to Write an Actual Post...

Please enjoy the first comic strip character created for devotees of Sherlock Holmes, comedies of manners, and snarkiness: The Victorian-Era Superhero!

Busy

I'm going subsurface this week. We're in the throes of Oktoberfest over here - I'm surrounded by men in leather overalls and funny hats, screaming machinery, and a boatload of onions and beets. CEO Anton is having a blast - the picture seared into my mind from yesterday is him during lunch, holding full pitchers of dark ale, having the time of his life filling the cups of customers and telling jokes.

The tour guides I'm in charge of are a sweet, funny bunch of absolutely beautiful women (one of them got an offer yesterday to be on the show "America's Next Top Model"). They're doing well with the tours, and seem to be managing themselves just fine, which gives me a few extra minutes to sit at my computer and tackle my ever-growing mound of paperwork.

And write a quick blog post, of course. I'll resurface sometime next week. Wish me luck! Tally ho!

The Best Peanut Butter Cookies Ever

This recipe comes from my mom, who in turn got it from her cousin Teresa, who only allowed her to copy the recipe if she promised that she would only use Jif-brand chunky peanut butter. She and I have both kept to that promise, and have never had reason to regret it.

These cookies are phenomenal - soft, pillowy, and a little crumbly. I've had a number of peanut butter cookies in my short years on this planet, but these take the cake.

Peanut Butter Cookies
Makes: 3 dozen-ish

1 cup brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup butter, softened
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups chunky peanut butter (must be Jif!)
3 cups flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
2. In a large bowl, cream the brown sugar, granulated sugar, and butter until soft. Gradually beat in eggs, vanilla, and peanut butter.
3. In a smaller bowl, combine flour, salt, and baking soda. Gradually add the flour mixture to the peanut butter mixture.
4. Roll dough into small balls, and place on a greased cookie sheet (or a sheet lined with parchment paper). Press balls flat with a dinner fork in a crisscross pattern.
5. Bake cookies for 10-11 minutes; remove from oven. Allow cookies to sit on the cookie sheet for another 2 minutes (cookies will appear slightly under-done). Transfer cookies to a cooling rack until they have reached room temperature.

You Gotta Love Wikipedia...

British Tea Ritual

Even very slightly formal events can be a cause for cups and saucers to be used instead of mugs. A typical semi-formal British tea ritual might run as follows:

1. The kettle is boiled and water poured into a tea pot.
2. Water is swirled around the pot to warm it and then poured out.
3. Loose tea leaves are then added to the pot while the kettle is reboiled.
4. Water is added to the pot and allowed to brew for several minutes while a tea cosy is placed on the pot to keep the tea warm.
5. A tea strainer, like a miniature sieve, is placed over the top of the cup and the tea poured in.
6. The straight black tea is then given to guests and they are allowed to add milk and sugar to their taste.
7. The pot will normally hold enough tea so as not to be empty after filling the cups of all the guests. If this is the case, the tea cosy is replaced after everyone has been served.

Whether to put milk into the cup before or after the tea has been a matter of some debate and has traditionally been seen as a class divide. Working classes who could not afford good quality crockery would add milk first to ensure that the sudden increase in heat would not crack the cups, whereas middle and upper classes who did not need to worry about this would add milk afterwards so that guests would be able to take the tea as they personally preferred it. This latter tradition has been considered the correct one according to etiquette. However, some hold that adding milk second tends to scald the milk.

There is also a proper manner in which to drink tea when using a cup and saucer. If one is seated at a table, the proper manner to drink tea is to raise the teacup only, placing it back into the saucer in between sips. When standing or sitting in a chair without a table, one holds the tea saucer with the left hand and the tea cup in the right hand. When not in use, the tea cup is placed back in the tea saucer and held in one's lap or at waist height. In either event, the tea cup should never be held or waved in the air.

Drinking tea from the saucer (poured from the cup in order to cool it) was not uncommon at one time but is now almost universally considered a breach of etiquette.

* - Vintage Gold teacup painting courtesy of Jennifer Bellinger Studio.

My First Grown-up Race

I may have jog-walked the vast majority of the time, but dog gone it, it was still a race!

Amanda signed up first for the Nike Plus Human Race, and then begged and pleaded and cajoled until Melissa, Traci, and I signed up as well. Amanda and Traci are both experienced marathoners, the kind of people who run 4 to 6 miles daily, and so they teamed up as the running half of the party. Melissa and I formed the “Let’s-be-logical-about-this-There’s-no real-need-to-run-like-madwomen” walking half.


The week before, we went to NikeTown and picked up our nifty race packet, complete with shirt, tracking chip, PowerBars, and granola. For those of you who have never visited a NikeTown before, the experience can be a little daunting – floors and floors devoted solely to workout gear. I mean, is it necessary to offer over 100 colors and sizes and styles of workout tank tops? It all seemed a bit much, but then again, I’m not an athlete.

The race day itself was much more fun than I expected. As soon as we arrived at Soldier Field, we joined a mass of more than 14,000 runners sporting little red t-shirts, wrap-around sunglasses, and iPods, all of them stretching, warming up, and standing in long (and I mean long) lines for the porto-potties. Jumbotrons everywhere flashed ads and race records from the twenty-some cities who had already hosted races, and the announcers shouted directions over the din of the crowd. Melissa and I, who had placed ourselves in the 12-minute mile starting bracket, had to wait 15 minutes to start running as all of the race participants were funneled through fenced-in chutes at the starting line (very similar to the chutes used during calf-roping competitions, except slightly wider).

The race route flanked Lakeshore Drive, so that we were able to run right next to Lake Michigan during the second half, and it was dark enough that we were treated to a beautiful view of Navy Pier and the big lighted Ferris wheel as we worked our way north. I love Chicago in all if its forms, but I especially love it at night. It is truly a beautiful city.

Melissa and I ran during the first half-mile, and for a stretch in the middle, and for the quarter-mile home stretch at the very end. At that point, it didn’t matter whether I walked or ran – my body was fairly numb from my bellybutton down. We eventually found Amanda and Traci, consumed a good amount of complimentary bottled water and granola with yogurt, and made our way to the interior of Soldier Field, stopping every two minutes or so to stretch our unforgiving muscles. In fact, my hips refused to forgive me until two days had passed, and then only grudgingly.

The Fallout Boy concert was great, if very short. We didn’t get to Soldier Field until the concert was already underway, so I have no idea how much we missed. We got to hear three or four songs, including Dance Dance (my favorite), and stood close enough to the stage to have our DNA recombined by the thumping bass. Rock concerts may not be my cup of tea, but even I could not deny that Fallout Boy does a great live concert.

Fun times, great music, free food, and a complimentary t-shirt. Maybe I’ll participate in another race, but only if the race participants wear the same shirts. It’s easier to not feel self-conscious about jog-walking like a senior citizen if you can blend in with the crowd.

The Funnies

Who doesn’t love the newspaper funnies? Every morning from childhood to high school, Dad would bring the paper in from the mailbox, and I would pounce upon section C as soon as he reached the kitchen table. Not that I found them all funny – on the contrary, most of them could barely muster enough substance to be called distracting – but they still seemed to strike a chord within me. Perhaps it was that desire to make fun of their labored humor, an urge that has followed me all my life, and heralded my love of Joel, Mike, and the Bots.

Now that I’m an adult, my tastes have changed a bit. I actually read other portions of the newspaper, for one. But I still turn to the comics at the very end, saving them for dessert. The Chicago Tribune offers a wider variety of comics than the Idaho Press-Tribune, though the greater amount of comics does not change the fact that the large amount of comic strips out there simply aren’t funny (at least, not in the way they intend).

Fortunately, as always, the sprawling internet enables people with greater wits than my own to address these flaws on today’s funny pages. I have recently discovered several blogs and websites that I would mildly or highly recommend to those who have grown up reading, loving, and scoffing at the funnies:

The Comics Curmudgeon: Witty man (and technical writer!) Josh takes on a wide array of the funnies daily, selecting the most ridiculous of the day and ripping them to shreds. Recommended. Warning: Regular profanity.

Mary Worth and Me: A more family-friendly, yet still cynical, exploration into one of the longest-running soap-opera comics of newspaper history. Recommended.

Mary Worth, Style Maven: Tina, grad student and seamstress, comments on the visual oddities of Mary Worth, and occasionally recreates the strip's fashion faux pas using her sewing machine skills. Mildly recommended.

The Amazing Spider-Blog: Takes on the legendary Amazing Spider-Man strip, and peels back the veneer of coolness to reveal that Peter Parker does little else besides watch TV and whine. The writer makes his posts a little more upbeat by having a daily “Things I Like” (TIL) side note. Mildly recommended.

The Luck of Dennis St. Michel, Viscount Stokington: I’ve saved the best for last. This brilliant piece of work takes the characters from the funny pages and plunges them into a Victorian novel of manners and intrigue. You need to be well up on most of the comic strips out there (Apartment 3-G, Popeye, Marmaduke, Slylock Fox, and many others), as well as Jane Austen, Romantic (with a capital “R”) and Victorian novels, and British history and fashion to get all of the jokes, but those without all the inside knowledge can still find it hilarious. Enjoy as Sir Dennis turns mercenary to woo the Lady Margaret (Dennis the Menace), help Kit Walker (The Phantom) exact revenge on Sir Julius Dithers (Blondie), rip the bodice from Madame Morgan (Rex Morgan, MD), and evade his demented enemy Calvin Hobbes (rather obvious, no?). Highly recommended. Make sure to start reading at the very beginning!

Devon Goes to Chicago! (Part II)

Warning: You might want to make yourself a snack and bring it to your computer before you start reading this post. Oh, and if you think you might need to use the restroom in the next hour or so, you might want to take care of that too.

Wednesday: Wrock Chicago

Those of you unfamiliar with the Harry Potter phenomenon may not realize that the fandom is not limited to people who read and talk about the books. No, no, HP fans find many ways to express their love for the books, and the most interesting mode of expression is what they call Wizard Wrock. The requirements for becoming a Wizard Wrocker are very simple: using any number of fans and instruments, you simply write and perform songs that include references to the plots, characters, and culture of the HP canon, and perform them before crowds of Rowling fans in backyards, libraries, and other venues.

Devon and I arrived at the Chicago Hilton in the early afternoon, just in time to hear The Butterbeer Experience, a pixie-like girl with a great voice and unlimited energy. Each of the non-headliners had half an hour on two stages in the hotel, and both rooms were lined with the bands’ “merch” (it’s amazing how much terminology I learned during this week). The other afternoon bands we saw included Celestial Warmbottom, The Moaning Myrtles, The Parselmouths, and The Gringots Grrls.

Before the headliners took the stage that evening, I whisked Dev away to the very touristy Navy Pier to check out the Stained Glass Museum – an impressive collection for a free open-to-the-public exhibit. Many of the pieces were from old sites throughout Chicago, and they covered a variety of themes, styles, and eras. If you are ever in Chicago and have a free hour, this is a definite must-see. We also explored the arboretum, and took a ride on the giant Ferris wheel, and blue-skied plots and characters for our own best-selling young adult book series during dinner.

The big names of Wizard Wrock claimed the stage for the evening performances, and the grand ballroom at the Hilton was packed to bursting with fanboys and girls in various states of costume, with all of their parents and chaperones lining the back walls (trying in vain to distance themselves from the noise, no doubt). Instead of lighters, the crowd held wooden carved wands aloft for the rock anthem-style songs, and groupies rushed the stage and screamed every time a new band came on. Having never attended a concert outside of the classical genre before, this was quite an experience for me.

The events planners at the Hilton evidently did not know what they were getting into when they granted these bands permission to play. Heading up the escalator to the ballroom, Devon and I noticed a crowd of well-dressed people from the American Gospel Singers and Choirs Conference entering the ballroom directly below that of the crazed Wizard Wrockers. Judging by the thumping already emanating from the floor above, we wondered how disturbed the AGSCC would be when the Wrock really got underway. The Whomping Willows took the stage at 8:00, and the madness began.

The base thumped so loud as to thoroughly vibrate my bone marrow, the fans screamed, and everyone started to dance. The floor started to shake so much that I was sure it was going to collapse – I gave Devon one fear-stricken look, and then instinctively dashed to the wall farthest from the crowd. I could see it in my mind: the center of the room suddenly collapsing; the fans, stage, and bands falling through and crushing the nice-looking, be-hatted ladies of the AGSCC; the Earthquake-style scenes of carnage and chaos that would follow. Evidently, I am destined to forever be intimidated by this genre of music. (Nota bene: this theory was confirmed this past Sunday at the Fall Out Boy concert I attended after the Nike Human Race 10K – the race itself was tons of fun, by the way.)

The management arrived at about 8:30 to inform the crowd that their jumping about had completely disrupted the AGSCC conference and caused the chandeliers to sway dangerously, and that we would all be escorted out of the building if we continued. The concert was a little calmer after that (another testimony to the reputation of our Chicago PD), and I mustered the strength to stay until Draco and the Malfoys took the stage. Dev and I retreated temporarily for chocolate cake, and then she plunged back in to watch Harry and the Potters while I sought some necessary quiet in the lobby. We left the Hilton around midnight, rushing home to get some sleep before the real Terminus experience began the next morning.

Thursday: Terminus Registration and Tea

Dressed for a nice day on the town, Dev and I drove back to Chicago the next morning to get in line for Terminus registration and packet pick-up, which started promptly at noon. Although we had already bought our conference tickets online, we hoped to get there in time to buy tickets to a brunch featuring Tamora Pierce, a best-selling young adults’ author who has been writing impressive fiction for the past twenty years or so. Fortunately, Devon “found” a place in the first part of the line, and let me cut in with her. We got to the ticket desk to get two of the last five tickets available for the brunch, fortunately.

We passed the early afternoon in Grant Park, sipping Starbucks and reading over the massive amount of literature describing all of the activities taking place during the conference. We had a hard time sifting through all the information and deciding which events to attend – there were lectures and discussions on the books themselves, as well as how they were connected to education, publishing, young adult fiction, psychology, the world and ethics of fan fiction, fan communities, and politics.

That afternoon, I gave Dev her birthday present – afternoon tea at the Drake. The Drake serves its tea in a dark wood-paneled room, filled with exotic flowers, with a large fountain and harpist in the center. The food was excellent – the scones served with plenty of Devonshire cream, just like I want them – and the desserts were petite, exotic little delights. Devon and I enjoyed ourselves immensely there; we spent the entire afternoon talking about food, books, birthdays, and life.

Friday, Saturday, and Sunday: Terminus

The next three days were a whirl of lectures, discussions, live podcasts, impromptu concerts, merchandise, and great food. The talks and discussions were interesting, if a little overwhelming (I have only read the series once, and I didn’t recognize most of the names and events mentioned during the sessions). The attendees appeared to become more and more comfortable as the conference went on, and by the end, it seemed as though Dev and I were two of only a few without costumes. I have to say that I suffered from several moments of cognitive dissonance, as we sat discussing serious literary theory with middle-aged and teenage women dressed in cloaks and pointy hats. Devon tried on some witches’ hats at the vendor pavilion, and looked rather fetching in this one (although my photographic ineptitude caused me to frame the picture using the birthday-at-a-Mexican-restaurant technique).

We roamed Chicago during our breaks. Dev introduced me to the world of comic books one afternoon, a shadowy realm of quiet people and the intense smell of ink. I was handed a Serenity comic book, and I'm afraid I embarrassed Dev in the middle of Giordano's when I yelled out "Gaa! Comic porn!!" in horror at several points through the book. We even took the Red Line clear to Loyola North Campus to get more Monk's Blend tea at Metropolis. Yes, we take our tea very seriously.

We went shopping one day, and Devon found some great new teaching outfits at H&M. Most of our evenings were free, and we indulged with two nights of North & South (the Elizabeth Gaskell tale, not the Patrick Swayze, Civil War, big-haired mini-series) as only two bibliophiles and Victorian romance lovers can. Dev gave me both the DVDs and the book for my birthday – a perfect gift, in my mind.

As a rather ambitious hostess, I have a reputation for thoroughly exhausting my guests, and this visit was no exception. Dev was so tired by Sunday afternoon that, after the last talk on Sunday afternoon, we went straight to Grant Park so that she could take a rest in the sunshine.

Thanks for all the fun, Dev!

Film Crew Now Online!

Three of my favorite commedians are now on Hulu! Say hello the the Film Crew, a one-year project between Michael J Nelson, Kevin Murphy (also known as Tom Servo), and Bill Corbett (the Crow from MST3K, seasons 8-10). Their purpose here is much the same as MST - taking bad movies and making them freakin' hilarious.

Hollywood After Dark:
Rue MacLanahan of Golden Girls fame bares is all for this 1950s ode to depression and sleaze. Warning: this movie contains actual stripping - not for the young, faint of heart, or weak of stomach.

Giants of Marathon:
"Mr. Hercules" himself, Steve Reeves, flaunts his craft and his pecs in this sword-and-sandal epic. Athens is threatened by invasion from the Persians, and only the well-muscled Phillipedes can flex, pose, and bench-press all the way to victory.

Wild Women of Wongo:
A Neanderthal sex-comedy filmed on location at Cypress Gardens, Florida. The beautiful females of the Wongo tribe think themselves doomed to mate with their ugly tribe-mates, until a well-groomed (and waxed) male from the Goona tribe visits and presents an alternative.

By the way, you can go to Hulu.com to view all of these shows in full-screen. You know, in case you don't want to spend an hour and a half with your nose half an inch from your computer screen.


Update: Okay, it looks like the posted screens throw my text-box parameters completely out of whack. So, instead of watching the little screens on this blog, just go to Hulu, search for "Film Crew", and you'll be able to find the three movies with ease. Please, please check them out sometime if you are in need of a laugh.

Overheard

At this moment, my coworkers in the neighboring cubicle are discussing which of the Disney princesses is the sexiest. Currently, Belle is in the lead (she has the best face and most proportionate body) with Ariel in second thanks to the seashell bikini. Snow White gets an honorable mention.

What am I doing here?!

Gourmet Sunday

I was bitten by the cooking bug yesterday. Adventurous cooking has always been a kind of therapy for me – it’s easy to lose oneself in a pile of garlic and spices, I find. And for the past week, I’ve been waiting for a chance to get lost. Work has been crazed of late as we prepare for our first hosted trade show since 1999. This year’s Oktoberfest will feature four new machine prototypes: one drill, two torches, and a plate machine with two torches and an eight-spindle tool changer, and all of them impressive. There will be beer, bratwurst and sauerkraut, Bavarian bands, Lou Holtz, software vendors, sparks, steel, more testosterone than you can shake a stick at, and Barenaked Ladies.

So you can see why I took Sunday to separate myself from all of this for a while and get into some fabulous food. It all turned out better than I could have anticipated – the Chaamp Masala was creamy, rich, and spicy, and the Paratha crispy and perfect for scooping up the spare sauce (this is a great, quick alternative to the more substantial Na’an served with Middle Eastern dishes). And with the Galette, I finally achieved the flaky crust that every good pastry deserves. All in all, a highly successful day.

Chaamp Masala

Serves 6-8


1 3-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and coarsely chopped
3 tablespoons peeled and coarsely chopped garlic
6-8 lamb chops, well trimmed of fat
1 medium-large tomato, grated or finely diced
2 medium onions, minced
1/2 tablespoon cayenne
12 oz. Greek yogurt, beaten
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon roasted cumin seeds
2 teaspoons garam masala
3 tablespoons lemon juice
2-3 tablespoons chopped fresh green coriander (optional)

1. Place the ginger and garlic in a blender with 2-3 tablespoons of water. Blend to a smooth paste.
2. In a large skillet, combine the chops, tomato, onions, cayenne, yogurt, salt, and ginger-garlic paste, and bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Turn the heat to low; cover the skillet and let the contents simmer for 50 minutes or until the chops are almost cooked.
3. Add the cumin seeds and simmer for 10-15 minutes more, until the meat is tender and the sauce is thick. Add the garam masala and lemon juice, and stir thoroughly.
4. Sprinkle with fresh coriander, and serve with rotis, paratha, or rice.


Plain Paratha

Makes 8 pieces


3 1/2 cups Atta (or whole-grain wheat flour)
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons chilled Ghee (or vegetable shortening)
1 1/4 cup water
Melted Ghee (or butter) for frying

1. Sift Atta and salt in a large bowl. Thoroughly cut in the ghee until the dough is crumbly. Gradually add the water and knead the dough until it is fully combined. Gather the dough into a ball, and cover it with a damp kitchen towel or plastic wrap. Let the dough rest for 1 hour at room temperature.
2. Divide the dough into 8 parts, and roll each part into a ball. Roll out each dough ball on a floured surface to make a 6” round disc about 1/8” thick.
3. Bring the Tawa (non-stick griddle) to medium heat. Pull a small piece of dough from one of the discs, and place it on the griddle. If the griddle is at the correct temperature, the sample should develop brown spots on the underside in about 30 seconds.
4. Place a paratha on the griddle for 45 – 60 seconds. Lift a corner of the paratha with a spatula – the underside should have a few brown spots. Flip the paratha and cook another 45 – 60 seconds. Baste the top cooked surface with melted ghee. Flip the paratha again, and cook the newly basted surface for another 45 – 60 seconds, and baste the top surface with melted ghee. Flip the paratha one more time, and cook for another 45 – 60 seconds.
5. Keep the cooked paratha in a warm oven until you have cooked all the paratha. Serve warm and fresh.


Peach Blueberry Galette

Serves 6


1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
3 tsp sugar
2/3 tsp salt
6 tbsp unsalted butter, chilled, cut into small pieces
6 tbsp vegetable shortening, chilled
3 tbsp ice water
3 peaches, cut in 1/4" wedges
1/2 pint blueberries
1 egg yolk
2 tsp heavy cream
Sliced almonds

1. In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, and salt. Cut in the chilled butter, and then the chilled shortening, until well-combined but still crumbly. Gradually add the ice-cold water, tossing the dough with a fork to moisten. Briefly and gently knead the dough to form a ball. Set aside in the refrigerator.
2. Place sliced peaches in a bowl, add 2 tbsp of sugar, and toss. In a separate bowl, combine blueberries and 1 tbsp of sugar. Add or subtract from the amount of sugar at your discretion.
3. Preheat the oven to 425 F. On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough to a 12” circle, about 1/8” thick. Gently lift and place the dough onto a cookie sheet lined with parchment.
4. Starting about 1 1/2” from the edge, place peach slices in two layered circles. Add the blueberries to the center and scatter a few decoratively over the peaches.
5. Fold over the dough edge so that it covers the outer edge of the fruit. Sprinkle a small handful of sliced almonds over the fruit. Whisk the egg yolk and cream together, and brush this mixture over the exposed crust. Sprinkle the galette and crust with sugar.
6. Bake the galette until browned, about 20 – 30 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool for about 10 minutes. Loosen the edges and center of the galette from the parchment with a spatula. Lift the galette and parchment with support from a wide spatula or cake lifter, and carefully slide the galette onto a cooling rack or platter. Serve warm with a dollop of crème fraiche or whipped cream.

Devon Goes to Chicago! (Part I)

In the fine tradition of Franky Goes to Hollywood, Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Tarzan Goes to India, Juan Tamad Goes to Malacañang, and I could go on if this joke didn’t seem to be dying in mid-sentence...

Devon’s flight to Chicago went well, though it was marred by lack of sleep and a lost journal. She left the journal on her plane, and realized the loss only after she had reached the baggage carousel. A severe storm the night before had grounded and delayed many flights, and so lines were long, tempers were high, and airport employees were exhausted. After several hours, she filled out a lost-and-found form and made her way to downtown via the Blue Line. I tried to be kind and consoled her as best as I could - any English major can sympathize with the deep loss attached to a misplaced journal. We stowed her baggage in my car, and I immediately fed her (she had comforting tomato soup at Cosí) and led her to a sunny park where she could sit and relax.

Devon’s wit and conversation skills never cease to amaze me. Even on two and a half hours of sleep, she out-thought me through all of our chats. It makes me wonder. She has always been more clever than me, but it seems that my wits have dulled since my last time with her. Has my close association with engineers, or my blatantly corporate job, blunted my skills? I feel as though something vital inside of me is fading.

Throughout the afternoon, we spotted little groups of girls with black shirts and red ribbons tied in their hair, clutching sizable hardback books and emitting regular squeals as they walked along Michigan Avenue. It appeared that we were not the only ones haunting the immediate area of the Harris Theater, waiting for the doors to open. Dev and I immediately started our low, cynical chuckling, and did not stop until the entire night was over. For several hours, we were surrounded by dewy-eyed fan-girls (and a few guys) who had been won over by the writing skills of Stephenie Meyer, and we just couldn’t help ourselves.

The Breaking Dawn concert followed an interesting format, something between a coffee shop open-mic night and a radio interview. Adolescent girls, with "Team Jacob" and "Team Edward" emblazoned across their t-shirts (and, in a few cases, their buttocks), screamed with delight as each book series title lit up to signal the beginning of the concert, and cooed during the moody, tortured songs of Blue October’s Justin Furstenfeld. (Devon and I concluded that if the Twilight series spawned its own music sub-genre, "vampire rock" – in the fine tradition of wizard wrock – would not be in keeping with the lovey-dovey, tortured romance theme. "Vampire crooning", however, would seem to fit the bill perfectly.)

Meyer herself appeared midway through the show, answering questions submitted by the audience before the show. She seemed pretty comfortable on stage, and gave detailed answers whenever possible, to the delight of the audience. As you have probably gathered if you’ve read any of Meyer’s books, or read Devon’s blog in the past year, Meyer’s a big fan of happy endings all around. My favorite moment of the night: Meyer was asked (via notecard) how Nessie (vampire) and Jacob (werewolf) would live happily ever after, since Jacob was not immortal. She replied that since Nessie was a vampire, Jacob would always be stimulated to turn into a werewolf, thus rejuvenating his life force, and as long as they were together, they would live forever (to explain fully would require pages of pseudo-lore). Meyer seemed so pleased with herself at thinking up such a tidy solution that I couldn’t help turning to Dev and making a bow-tying gesture with my hands, causing Dev to nearly choke on her bottled water. Still, it was interesting to hear an author discuss her own work.

And, I must admit, I’ve read all of her books and enjoyed the hours of escape they provided.

We laughed as we drove to Bourbonnais, and I remember thinking that I had never encountered such a rabid group of fans before, and wagering that I never would again.

Little did I know what would be coming the next day...

Part II coming soon, with pictures!

Best Quick Salsa... Ever!

This recipe is courtesy of Tammi Gismondi and Devon, who spent a memorable 7 days with me last week (details and photos coming soon!) It's super easy, tasty, and creates enough salsa to last for quite a while. Enjoy!

Tammi’s Salsa
Rating: 5/5

1 28 oz. can whole tomatoes
2 bunches green onions, trimmed
1 bunch cilantro
2 small fresh jalapeños
Juice from 1 lime
2 cloves garlic
1 tsp fresh oregano
1/2 tsp cumin
Salt & pepper

1. Chop 1 bunch green onions and half the cilantro bunch. Set aside
2. Stem both jalapeños, and seed one. Combine the juice from the can of tomatoes, the jalapeños, cumin, lime juice, oregano, and garlic; puree until smooth.
3. Add tomatoes, the other bunch of green onions, and the other half bunch of cilantro. Pulse until contents are mostly blended.
4. Pour blended mix into a large, non-reactive bowl. Mix in chopped green onion and cilantro. Season with salt and pepper.

Note: this salsa is best when fresh. It will last for two or three days in the refrigerator.

Scraping Away

It has been almost two months now, and I’m still practicing my viola with a good deal of fidelity. My bow still scrapes and squeaks and makes ungodly noises that I’m sure make my neighbors cringe, but the flubs are becoming more infrequent.

Returning to the beginning of musical training has been an enlightening experience for me. All of my piano experience can only take me so far when it comes to the nuances of this instrument, and I have had to force my brain to revert to beginner mode. Plodding away on my viola, the effort summons memories from my early childhood, when I struggled with controlling the volume, phrasing, and fingering of the piano. I remember practicing right hand exercises on the old upright piano in Mrs. Sample’s basement, clacking away with the rhythm sticks, and using red plastic disks to play a sort of musical bingo on the treble and base clefs. I also remember the proudest moment of my second year of lessons, when I mastered the two-hand version of Scarborough Fair (I still love that song).

Thanks to these memories, I am able to control my impatience and frustration during practice. As I slowly go through Frere Jacques for the umpteenth time, traces of Mrs. Sample’s patience and wisdom float up from my slightly unreliable mass of memory, and remind me that mastering any instrument takes years and years of dedication, no matter what your background may be.

So, in addition to my list of unattainable dream jobs, I can now add:
- Violist at the Teatro alla Scala in Milan

(By the way, my list also includes:
- Writer for Encyclopedia Britannica in Chicago
- Etiquette consultant in Washington DC
- Medieval manuscript specialist at the University of Leicester
- Assistant to the United States Ambassador to Brazil
- Marine biology journal editor for CSIRO publishing in Victoria, Australia
- Agent for a luxury goods exporter in Istanbul)

A New Favorite

At the farmer's market yesterday, I bought a heaping pint of fresh Michigan blueberrues, and was inspired to create a new sorbet. It turned out to be a delicious summer dessert, and the deep plum color is remarkably vivid.

Lemon Blueberry Sorbet

2 cups water
2 cups superfine sugar
4 lemons
1/3 cup chardonnay
2/3 cup blueberries
Zest from 1 lemon

1. Remove peel, pith, and outer membrane from the lemons. Remove the flesh from the lemon segments, discarding the seeds. Place the lemon fruit, chardonnay, blueberries, and zest in a blender or food processor, and puree until completely smooth.
2. In a medium-sized pot, bring the water close to a boil, and then add the sugar, stirring until the sugar is completely dissolved. Bring the syrup to a slight boil. Add the lemon blueberry mixture to the pot and stir thoroughly.
3. Immediately transfer the liquid to a large, non-reactive, freezer-safe bowl and place in the freezer. Whisk the liquid thoroughly every 30 minutes, breaking up any ice crystals that may form. Continue this procedure until the mixture obtains the smooth texture and appearance of sorbet. Allow the sorbet to freeze completely overnight.

Home Decor: The Final Frontier

The all-pervasive power of the Star Trek franchise has permeated nearly every facet of American culture. The futuristic gadgetry inspired the development of pagers, cell phones, and Blackberry. The 1960s original show even contributed slightly to the fashion scene (although the black wideleg clam-diggers/Italian boot combination was never too popular, for obvious reasons).

But now, with the franchise's latest movie due out in a few months, the true hold that Star Trek has on our society has been realized. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Tribble throw pillow.



This is no joke; I saw a whole herd of them at a store this very afternoon. Available at fine retailers across the nation, you can fill your sofa, bed, kitchen, bathtub, and holodeck with those adorable creatures that so nearly took over the USS Enterprise. Warning: Tribbles should not, under any circumstance, be fed in excess. Side effects may include fanfic cravings, staccato voice patterns, and hammy acting.

Makes me laugh every time...

Excerpt from PopInk's Happy Kitty Bunny Pony, with text by Michael J. Nelson:

What's fuzzy, chubby, chirpy, and cute? No, not Elton John. Chicks! Newly hatched chicks are simply one of the cutest things in the entire world. For about 2 days. Then it's just eating and pooping and growing and breeding. In fact, there are more chickens in the world than there are people. 650 million chickens in America alone... watching, waiting, plotting. Unless you think all the chirping is just chirping. But go ahead, ignore the obvious signs. When you're buried in an avalanche of yellow puffballs, each one pecking and pecking viciously at your eyes and vitals with murderous intent, don't come crying to me.

Morrocan Lentil Soup

This is a fabulous new recipe I just discovered online. Hearty, spicy, and completely vegetarian. Highly recommended.

2 onions, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, minced
6 cups water
1 cup red lentils
1 15 oz. can garbanzo beans, drained
1 19 oz. can cannellini beans
1 14.5 oz. can diced tomatoes
1 cup diced carrots
1 teaspoon garam masala
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cardamom
1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon olive oil

1. In a large pot, sauté the onions, garlic, and ginger in the olive oil for about 5 minutes.
2. Add the water, lentils, garbanzos, cannellinis, diced tomatoes, carrots, garam masala, cardamom, cayenne pepper, and cumin to the pot. Bring soup to a boil; boil for 2 minutes, and then simmer for 1 to 1 1/2 hours or longer, until the lentils are soft.
3. Puree up to half the soup in a food processor or blender. Return the pureed portion to the pot and stir. Serve; garnish portions with chopped fresh parsley and salt.

From the mouths of 19th century authors...

...comes stunning prophesies about hydrogen fuel cells, currently being used to great effect in the Honda Clarity and other vehicles.

From Jules Verne's The Mysterious Island:

“But now, my dear Cyrus, all this industrial and commercial movement to which you predict a continual advance, does it not run the danger of being sooner or later completely stopped?”

“Stopped! And by what?”

“By the want of coal, which may justly be called the most precious of minerals… You do not deny that some day the coal will be entirely consumed?”…

“After the European mines, which will be soon worked more thoroughly with new machines, the American and Australian mines will for a long time yet provide for the consumption in trade.”

“For how long a time?” asked the reporter.

“For at least two hundred and fifty or three hundred years.”

“That is reassuring for us, but a bad look-out for our great- grandchildren!” observed Pencroft.

“They will discover something else,” said Herbert…

“But what will they find?” asked Pencroft. “Can you guess, captain?”

“Nearly, my friend.”

“And what will they burn instead of coal?”

“Water,” replied Harding.

“Water!” cried Pencroft, “water as fuel for steamers and engines! water to heat water!”

“Yes, but water decomposed into its primitive elements,” replied Cyrus Harding, “and decomposed doubtless, by electricity, which will then have become a powerful and manageable force, for all great discoveries, by some inexplicable laws, appear to agree and become complete at the same time. Yes, my friends, I believe that water will one day be employed as fuel, that hydrogen and oxygen which constitute it, used singly or together, will furnish an inexhaustible source of heat and light, of an intensity of which coal is not capable. Some day the coalrooms of steamers and the tenders of locomotives will, instead of coal, be stored with these two condensed gases, which will burn in the furnaces with enormous calorific power. There is, therefore, nothing to fear. As long as the earth is inhabited it will supply the wants of its inhabitants, and there will be no want of either light or heat as long as the productions of the vegetable, mineral or animal kingdoms do not fail us. I believe, then, that when the deposits of coal are exhausted we shall heat and warm ourselves with water. Water will be the coal of the future.”

My Operatic Life

O Bozhe! O Bozhe, shto podumal on,
Shto skazhet on? Akh, dlya chevo,
Stenanyu vnyav dushi bolnoi,
Ne sovladav sama s soboi,
Yemu pismo ya napisala!
Da! syerdtse mnye tepyer skazalo,
Shto nasmeyotsa nado mnoi
Moi soblaznitel rokovoi!
O, Bozhe moi! kak ya neschastna,
Kak ya zhalka!

- Eugene Onegin, Act I, Scene 3