Back to the Food

I will be posting about 2 things, once I get my shit together the rest of the way...

- Curried chicken

- Melting moments

Stay tuned...

Posts of FURY

Ok, so that last post served its purpose.  I was able to put all my feelings about being screwed over out there in cyberspace for the world to see for about 24 hours, I feel ever-so-much better, and now I can take that hate-drivel down.  Done, and done.  :)  

It still exists if I ever feel the crazy urge to commit an act of charity.  See, charity isn't really my thing, especially not right now.  I'll go ahead and say it; community service never gave me warm fuzzies.  I did it because it was a good thing to do and all that, but eh.  So, when I do something kind or good or let down my I'm-going-to-get-screwed-over guard and it backfires and I get screwed over, it REALLY gets me fired up.  

You see, if I chose NOT to help out my ex-roommate and get my name off the lease, I'd have never needed to look back.  She'd have floundered and gone down all by herself.  She'd have had to pay the $3000, and I would have shrugged and walked away.  Instead, I tried to save her $200 and then got landed with the fallout of her general ineptness; a/k/a 2 months of rent as penalty for not giving 2 months notice of vacating.   So, I bailed me out and she rode my coattails in for the ride.  And did I get a thank-you?  Oh, of course not.  Because that's why I and the rest of the world exist; to bail her out.    

The time it took me to get 2 people in our apartment was the last week my advisor was in town to proofread my proposal.  Hence, my incredible amount of animosity.  See, if she had winched her lazy ass off whatever couch it was breaking, walked into the chem and biochem graduate office, said "Can I have the list of the emails of all the incoming graduate students?  I have an apartment I need to rent," followed by an email to them all, she could have actually accomplished something tangible in 3 days.  

It kills me that I wasted that last week when she literally HAS NO JOB.  No one in the department is going to hire her because she behaved incredibly unprofessionally during her rotations.  Hence, she has NOTHING to do this summer.  At all.  But I have what to do.  I have research, and candidacy, and 2 papers I have to write.  

At the crux of it all is the simple fact that if I had messed up like she messed up and either (a) didn't read the lease or (b) didn't understand the 60 days notice part, I would be so embarrassed.  I would never in a million years consider asking a relative stranger to help me pay for my foul-up.  I was brought up to take full responsibility for my failures so that I could have equal ownership of my successes, and seeing someone with such a sense of entitlement at the rip young age of 23 or whatever she is makes me despise her to an astronomical degree.  And not even a thank you.  How did she get this far in life without some kid beating the ever loving shit out of her in the playground?

I have no shame in feeling what I do.  I also have no shame in saying that whatever my faults may be (a firm belief in dealing out karmic retribution, a temper, extremely confrontational), I am a motherfucking badass because (a) I pulled this off, (b) I finished my proposal, and (c) I am still alive and kicking.  And with that, I wish everyone a happy successful week... forge ahead!

Retro

After crash-coursing in optics (5 textbooks and 2 angry phone calls), I just watched the Diane Von Furstenberg fall/winter 08/09 runway show.  

Here's what I thought:

wow.  what awesome clothes.  classy.  classic.  buttoned up but sexy.  very golden age.  ooh, i like the music, too.  so upbeat!  it's a shame the models aren't smiling.  man, i'd be totally rocking out if i was there.  they need to put those clothes on a nice curvy body.  why don't their hips move?  they look like they're walking to their deaths.  ecchhh.  the models look like they're playing dress-up in their grandmothers' closets at age 12.  oh, come on, shake it, sister!!  nope.  just uninspired clomping.  

I ended up totally not paying attention to the clothes because there was such a huge dissonance between the clothes and music, and the models' body types and expressions on their faces.  I don't think every style looks good on every body type.  That may be nasty of me, but it's true.  Those retro looks suit a curvy gal.  Not even plus-sized.  I'd say, well, pretty much anyone larger than a 2 or a 4, unless they're short.  If we're talking close to 6 feet, I'd keep it at a 6 and up for a runway show, and DVF messed up there.  They don't even look haughty.  They look bored, scared, and dead.  

I can get behind the automaton look in the name of theatrics, but just as a very minimalist, dark, lean look comes to life on someone extremely skinny, the retro 50's look falls flatter than some of those girls' chests.  

Words I Am Trying To Sneak Into My Proposal

I am going to try to sneak some good words into my proposal.  So far, I have two noteworthy ones:

- queried

- behooves

My advisor may have chopped out "behooves," but I am SO going to sneak it back in.  Screw it.  I don't care if those words aren't typically used in science.  They are lovely 2-syllable words, and frankly, my committee will just have to break out the dictionary to check the definitions because to use the word "questioned" roughly 8 bazillion times goes against everything I stand for.

Oh, Ms. Tavolacci (my TOTALLY EFFING AWESOME English teacher of 2 years in high school), you would send these scientists from your classroom sobbing if they ever were taught by you.  I actually miss Classical Roots and Shoots.

Sighghghhgghghhh...

Beautiful Day

It seems that the state of Maryland has forgotten that it's August, but I'm not complaining.  Usually in August, it gets so hot and humid here, even walking to your car makes you feel like breathing is a terrible idea.  I'm surprised no one sprouts gills or grows algae like three-toed sloths.  I mean, this is nothing but a giant swamp.  No idea why our Founding Fathers decided to put the nation's capital in the middle of a swamp, but it's here and we have to deal with it... except on weeks like this upcoming one, where for some unknown reason, the temperature will be in the 80's and so far, the mugginess factor is nowhere to be seen.  Huzzah!  

So my plans for today include finishing my proposal.  It has been dragging on like nobody's business because of some amazingly, unbelievably, astoundingly ridiculous roommate issues which I will discuss at a later date because thinking about them right now makes me indescribably furious, and I have to concentrate on my paper.  To think I was worried I'd offend that lying, irresponsible, lazy failure if I called her out on breaking my couch.  

Anyway, I figured out where I could stream WQXR on iTunes.  I really love that radio station.  The DC classical station is nowhere near as good.  In particular, I miss WQXR's morning programming, which - at last listen - consisted of really up-tempo upbeat pieces.  It was perfect to wake up to.  It was lovely classical music so it wasn't jarring, but it got you moving nevertheless.  DC's classical station is draggy in the mornings which makes me want to crawl back under the covers and snooze.  Happily, it is streaming now through iTunes.  I love that thy have commercials about piano liquidations.  Much better than what they used to advertise; cancer treatments and cancer treatment centers in the greater NY metro area.  I mean, that was just depressing.

So, what else is on tap for today... finishing up all the greens in the fridge in a massive salad at some point because they're going to rot if I don't, and nothing makes me sadder than having to throw out rotten food.  I still have about 1/3 of the total amount of pasta I made at the beginning of the week, but that won't go bad.  I need to cook this chuck roast I picked up on sale the other day, too.  I think a very long slow braising post-browning in a 275-300 F oven in water and wine with garlic, onions, celery, carrots, some rehydrated mushrooms, bay leaves, rosemary, and significant amounts of black pepper.  

In the more long-term foodstuff category is the next beer Danny and I will make.  We totally rocked a Belgian wit (wheat) beer with coriander and orange peel.  It was so good it made people literally wax poetic.  Too bad Danny has this email a friend who's a homebrewer himself wrote about our beer or I'd quote it here.  So, our tentative plan is to try a fruit beer.  After reading several beer recipes, I think the best thing to do is to take the Belgian wit recipe, and add the fruit to it - we were thinking apple - and maybe alter the spices a bit.  I do love the coriander and orange peel, but it might be nice to add some cinnamon and cloves or allspice or nutmeg to the mix. We're shooting for an autumnal beer, something to mature for Thanksgiving.  The nice thing about the wit base is it won't be too heavy and it'll have a little tang, so it'll offset the sweetness of the apples.  I'm thinking we'll stick with a Belgian yeast strain because they typically tolerate higher alcohol concentrations, and this one will be a killer because of the fruit.  It will likely be around 7%.  

...I just hope it doesn't decide to explode this time... 

:)

An aside...

Is it in completely bad taste that I would do not only Daniel Craig, but also Jeff Goldblum circa "Independence Day?"  

Maybe at the same time.  I haven't decided yet.

On top of spaghhhheeeeetti, all covered with cheeeeeeese...

...I loooooost my poor meeeeeatbaaaaaall, when somebody sneeeeeeeezed.

What a great song.  What a classic.  My grandma taught me that when I was younger.  My dad, meanwhile, taught me and my little brother how to sing a very rude song about a cow on a hill in Hebrew.  We had no idea what we were singing, but we sang it anyway because it made my dad and his friends laugh.  However, the song was subsequently banned.  

Anyway, I ate spaghetti tonight.  With sauce, and some parmesan cheese, and yeah, some anchovies thrown in for saltiness and meatiness.  I got to thinking about anchovies.  When you read the Joy of Cooking, the old-skool edition with the instructions for skinning game, anchovy paste is in EVERYTHING.  And it's kind of funny, anachronistic, and slightly gross.  I mean, anchovy paste.  Echhh.  

But then... I thought some more.  (Always dangerous.)  And I reached the conclusion that Thai style fish sauce is our generation's anchovy paste.  We put it in our marinades and dressings and sauces for the same reasons, saltiness and meatiness.  Then I didn't feel so weird about heaping anchovies on top of my pasta.  

Danny's away at a conference and now's my time to eat all kinds of strange preserved fish products that he can't stand.  I love fish.  I know not everyone does, but here's a way to experience fish and eastern Europe in a very concentrated form that doesn't involve currency exchange or a passport.  I am writing this in honor of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, who just died; may he rest in peace.

For the ultimate eastern European experience, here's what you need:

1 loaf of traditional, old skool, excellent rye bread or brown bread.  

1 or more containers of matjes (pronounced "maht-yahs") herring or shmaltz herring (Wikipedia's entry is just lame; but matjes and shmaltz herring are really about the same).  

Thinly sliced onion

Thoroughly chilled vodka (good vodka, Stolichnaya, or 42 Below, or something good, you know?) and shot glasses

One or more friends with whom you want to commiserate about the shittiness of life, and with whom you don't mind getting drunk, and who can properly appreciate the sadness of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's passing on, and possibly engage in a literary critique of "A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich."

Now, these types of herring are very strong and salty.  They are fishy.  But they're strong and fishy in a very appealing way, if you can believe that.  The onion is oniony.  You will be able to generate a very authentically rank Russian fish-onion-alcohol smell in a matter of 3 shots.  But here's the thing.  You take some bread, put a bit of fish on it, and top it with an onion.  I like to eat the fish-onion-bread and then wash it down with the vodka, but some like to do the vodka and use the fish-onion-bread as a chaser.  If you're unsure, try it both ways.  But be careful, because you might get sucked into a never-ending cycle of fish-onion-bread, vodka, fish-onion-bread, vodka, etc. and then you'll end up vomiting, and this is not something you want to vomit.  You'll feel like a seagull feeding its young.

Anyway, you can find these weird fish products most likely at your local kosher supermarket.  You don't have one, you say?  Well, let me tell you that I typed "Kansas kosher" into google maps, and it found 4 places.  In Kansas.  That's right.  The Jews got dropped there by a tornado, I guess.  Maybe if you don't have Jews or tornados, then you're out of luck.

Another thing... usually, there are hardcore garlic pickles, bread, smoked fish (I remember one time someone got their hands on sturgeon, which has been fished to near-extinction; it was meaty and amazing, but I don't advocate eating it in this day and age), assorted sausages, pickled cabbage, and random meat also available for food.  I left out pickled green tomatoes.  And, well, anything else that's been pickled.  Maybe some cucumber or potato salad, too.  The way any group of people who make drinking toasts to each other, themselves, to their families, and life in general a social event is to eat continuously; not eating is a mistake Americanized frat boys make.  And there's usually lots of talking.  And music.  And the volume tends to increase as time goes on and the vodka bottles empty.  It's a lot of fun.

So celebrate Solzhenitsyn.  Get stanky, fishy, and crunk!

Or just eat spaghetti.  I think that's where this post started, anyway...