I like this line: ''Everyone,'' he said inaccurately, ''loves rice pudding.'' Oh the effect of a well-placed adverb!
So in addition to Runaways I have now become a fan of Heroes, which can be watched for free from Netflix. Since when were they allowed to show stuff like that on network TV, though? Goodness gracious, it's so gorey! But after the first episode, which I found a bit dull, it's been one cliffhanger after another and I just keep watching them. Also Hiro is adorable.
I had my first epic bread baking failure this weekend. I was trying to make Pilgrim's bread, a hearty multigrain bread I've made several times before, but I discovered too late that I didn't have enough flour and it died. This makes me really sad, and I felt so guilty for throwing out the horrible dough, especially with the food shortage and everything. Wasting all that flour was not cool. I know everyone has the odd kitchen disaster - Laurie Colwin has a whole chapter on disasters in Home Cooking - but it still bums me out.
I'm big on making things from scratch, but there are three convenience foods I find absolutely miraculous: Jiffy corn muffin mix, Kroger baking mix, and instant pudding. The Jiffy mix, especially, was a revelation - 47 cents, an egg, and 1/3 cup milk and you can have hot corn muffins for tea whenever you feel like it! The Kroger mix makes very presentable pancakes and biscuits (other stuff, too, like waffles, which I've never tried because I don't have a waffle iron) and instant pudding is fat free if you use skim milk, takes ten minutes start to finish, and is an excellent source of calcium! I mean, I like baked rice pudding with milk and rice and eggs (the Joy of Cooking recipe is my fave so far), but when I just want something sweet and easy, stovetop pudding from a box is the way to go.
One more paper to turn in and I'm on summer vacation! At least until Monday when I start my German class. To prepare myself, I am reading Gitta geht zum Buhne, which my mum got at a flea market in Germany (I think). Gitta has just gone to a super fancy dress store where she bought the prettiest dress. My favorite part so far is when the mother says she doesn't need a new dress because she has a perfectly good one, and one of the sisters says, "Mother, you've had that dress since I was a baby!" I like that because my favorite word in German is the word for "baby": Das Baby. That cracks me up.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Runaways
I often go on a comic book binge around exam time, and this year my obsession is with Runaways. Yes, it's Marvel. Yes, it was made after 1992. Yes, they have done the coloring on a computer so it's full of gradations. But I do not care, I love it madly, especially because after the first few issues they start in with all the references to 80's-era Marvel, which is great - they make fun of Cloak and Dagger (one of the characters calls Dagger out on her ludicrously skanky outfit, which was great) and Power Pack (Julie Power is now living in LA, apparently, trying to break into show business). Plus, it's currently being written by Joss Whedon. What's not to love?
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Typecast:
Saturday night: reading "Existentialism is a Humanism" on the couch, barefoot and wearing an ancient, holey men's sweater, and drinking instant coffee.
I'd rather be watching Mystery Science Theater 3000, though.
I'd rather be watching Mystery Science Theater 3000, though.
Multifruit Povidel
K and I are both very frugal and subsist largely on bulk dried beans and legumes, but we each have our moments of indulgence where food is concerned. In K's case this is usually cheese: she'll occasionally buy a wedge of brie or this weird, chalky cheese with ginger and mango in it. Me, I'm a huge fan of nice jam. I bake all our bread of course, and to my mind, nice bread requires nice jam. So I get currant jelly or strawberry-rhubarb or blood orange preserves, or just nice, low-sugar raspberry or strawberry jams, and they make me happy.
On a recent trip to the supermarket I saw that one of the jams I'd never tried was on sale - something called Multifruit Povidel. I took it home and spread it on a warm, fresh slice of Pilgrim's Bread and it was awful - really it doesn't qualify as jam at all. Closer inspection of the label revealed that it was rose-hip flavor and also from Poland. Now, the Poles make good logicians but when it comes to food, I'll pass on the pirogies and what-have-you - that stuff is gross. The Multifruit Povidel has been on the door ever since, next to the large jar of store-brand strawberry jam we bought back when economizing on jam seemed like a good idea (that was probably September; I wonder if there's even jam in there still or just mold).
I couldn't bear to throw the Povidel away, though. That's just not the way I roll. Krista's a very good sport and generally doesn't care about food, but after awhile she started expressing a desire to get another jar of jam. But we can't do that until we finish the Povidel, and since it can't be used on bread another method must be found. Hence, Surprise Muffins.
The Surprise Muffins came from Krista's Betty Crocker cookbook - they're just plain muffins with a boop of jam in the center. You're supposed to bite into them and find that Surprise! they're full of multifruit povidel! In fact, there's an additional surprise, which is that they're not that bad, especially warm - the povidel's texture is nicer hot. I put very generous boops and used up half the jar. We're going to do this thing. There's a jar of Smucker's in the cupboard waiting for us.
(Okay I lied: my list of food luxuries is actually pretty long: I buy name-brand graham crackers, Minute Maid orange juice, Triscuits when they're on sale (the black pepper kind are soooo good), fair trade coffee and cage-free eggs. All of these are luxuries. But they're so much nicer than the store-brand versions - I especially notice this in the case of coffee. Kroger ground coffee just can't compare to fresh ground, French roast coffee.)
On a recent trip to the supermarket I saw that one of the jams I'd never tried was on sale - something called Multifruit Povidel. I took it home and spread it on a warm, fresh slice of Pilgrim's Bread and it was awful - really it doesn't qualify as jam at all. Closer inspection of the label revealed that it was rose-hip flavor and also from Poland. Now, the Poles make good logicians but when it comes to food, I'll pass on the pirogies and what-have-you - that stuff is gross. The Multifruit Povidel has been on the door ever since, next to the large jar of store-brand strawberry jam we bought back when economizing on jam seemed like a good idea (that was probably September; I wonder if there's even jam in there still or just mold).
I couldn't bear to throw the Povidel away, though. That's just not the way I roll. Krista's a very good sport and generally doesn't care about food, but after awhile she started expressing a desire to get another jar of jam. But we can't do that until we finish the Povidel, and since it can't be used on bread another method must be found. Hence, Surprise Muffins.
The Surprise Muffins came from Krista's Betty Crocker cookbook - they're just plain muffins with a boop of jam in the center. You're supposed to bite into them and find that Surprise! they're full of multifruit povidel! In fact, there's an additional surprise, which is that they're not that bad, especially warm - the povidel's texture is nicer hot. I put very generous boops and used up half the jar. We're going to do this thing. There's a jar of Smucker's in the cupboard waiting for us.
(Okay I lied: my list of food luxuries is actually pretty long: I buy name-brand graham crackers, Minute Maid orange juice, Triscuits when they're on sale (the black pepper kind are soooo good), fair trade coffee and cage-free eggs. All of these are luxuries. But they're so much nicer than the store-brand versions - I especially notice this in the case of coffee. Kroger ground coffee just can't compare to fresh ground, French roast coffee.)
Friday, April 25, 2008
Baby, take my hand.
Tonight is the department's end-of-year bash at our chair's house. I remember the beginning-of-year bash at this same professor's house back in September - sitting on the porch with a bunch of people I didn't really know yet. Now I know some of them a bit better. One of them is my beau. One has shared an apartment with me for eight months. I've had drinks with them, and classes, and conversations.
I'm listening to "Don't Fear the Reaper," which I would say is the Official Song of my first year of graduate school. We listened to it around the campfire at Luke's Halloween party and my sisters and I twisted to it on Christmas night while cleaning up after the party.
A lot of the time I wish I could either up and leave this place or hit reset and try this year again, because in some ways (mainly socially) I kind of messed everything up. I made some bad decisions and I made some changes a bit too late. But neither of those is really an option (especially the latter) and anyway, the lilacs are in bloom, and it's hard to hate someplace that smells so darn good.
I'm listening to "Don't Fear the Reaper," which I would say is the Official Song of my first year of graduate school. We listened to it around the campfire at Luke's Halloween party and my sisters and I twisted to it on Christmas night while cleaning up after the party.
A lot of the time I wish I could either up and leave this place or hit reset and try this year again, because in some ways (mainly socially) I kind of messed everything up. I made some bad decisions and I made some changes a bit too late. But neither of those is really an option (especially the latter) and anyway, the lilacs are in bloom, and it's hard to hate someplace that smells so darn good.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Yes We Can
I remember watching Obama speak at the Democratic National Convention back in 2004 and writing in my journal that I would vote for him for president some day. And now I have. It's nice when I'm right.
The Indiana primary isn't until May 6, but Obama campaign workers have been hawking this early voting thing and I figured why wait? They set up a temporary clerk's office in the Student Union and today people can go there and cast in-person absentee ballots. It crossed my mind that this would be a very clever scheme for some undercover McCain operatives - get all the Democratic college kids to cast fake ballots before they leave town for the summer, then swoop in for the kill at the actual primary. But this, I think, is fairly unlikely.
There was a long line at the polls this morning, and when I left it had grown longer still. There are also shuttles taking people to other polling places a couple of times a day, every day this week. It's really heartening to see such turnout, and it was also nice to see, as I signed out, the long list of D's on the signout sheet. The Dems are voting early in Indiana; let's hope it's enough.
I read a good piece on Obama recently in Commonweal, in which the author - I forget who it was - pointed out that speaking well is often a sign of thinking well, and that it will be much easier for McCain to dismiss Obama's rhetoric than to match it. Certain people I could name have said that Obama is full of sound and fury, signifying nothing, or as Cufflinks put it, that he says nothing at all but he says it really well. Whatever. I'm rereading this speech, and I feel the same way I did back in college when Obama gave me a glimpse of my America. I don't care that it's just talk - every time I see a chalking on the sidewalk that says "Yes We Can" it puts a spring in my step. So they're just words; well, this country was built on words. We're going to take America back. This is going to be great.
The Indiana primary isn't until May 6, but Obama campaign workers have been hawking this early voting thing and I figured why wait? They set up a temporary clerk's office in the Student Union and today people can go there and cast in-person absentee ballots. It crossed my mind that this would be a very clever scheme for some undercover McCain operatives - get all the Democratic college kids to cast fake ballots before they leave town for the summer, then swoop in for the kill at the actual primary. But this, I think, is fairly unlikely.
There was a long line at the polls this morning, and when I left it had grown longer still. There are also shuttles taking people to other polling places a couple of times a day, every day this week. It's really heartening to see such turnout, and it was also nice to see, as I signed out, the long list of D's on the signout sheet. The Dems are voting early in Indiana; let's hope it's enough.
I read a good piece on Obama recently in Commonweal, in which the author - I forget who it was - pointed out that speaking well is often a sign of thinking well, and that it will be much easier for McCain to dismiss Obama's rhetoric than to match it. Certain people I could name have said that Obama is full of sound and fury, signifying nothing, or as Cufflinks put it, that he says nothing at all but he says it really well. Whatever. I'm rereading this speech, and I feel the same way I did back in college when Obama gave me a glimpse of my America. I don't care that it's just talk - every time I see a chalking on the sidewalk that says "Yes We Can" it puts a spring in my step. So they're just words; well, this country was built on words. We're going to take America back. This is going to be great.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Wine
In other news, I am completely incapable of opening a bottle of wine. Last time I tried (I needed a bit of red wine for Laurie Colwin's beef stew recipe, which was disappointing, but did you know they sell $3 bottles of wine nowadays? Crazy) I actually broke our good bottle opener. Tonight when I tried to open the wine for the risotto I found I simply do not know how to use a corkscrew. Krista tried to help me - one of us would hold the bottle and the other would pull - but to no avail. I eventually managed to shove the broken cork down into the bottle, allowing me to pour the wine out, with bits of cork floating in it that did little to mitigate the awesome deliciousness of my risotto. But a better solution will have to be found.
The G.D.
First, you should really go make this and eat it, as soon as possible. It is amazing like the Mets.
Second, and unrelated to food, here is an interpersonal relations question. Last night Cufflinks and I were watching Road to Brazil and I used the word "goddamn" in conversation, as I occasionally do, possibly as a result of reading a lot of Salinger in my formative years. I try not to swear in front of Cufflinks because of his extreme religiousity, but I guess I don't think of what he referred to as "the G.D." as serious swearing. I guess this is because when I was younger and was considering incorporating swears into my vocabulary, my father told me that profanity was okay, but scatological swears were not.
Cufflinks said that he wasn't okay with "the G.D." and I apologized, but it rankled a bit. On the one hand, we are supposed to say when something bothers us so we can talk it out. This is a good policy that has been serving us fairly well, considering what an odd match we are, each of us finding all of the other's values anathema and appalling. So on that count, I am glad he said it bothered him, because now I will know not to do it again.
But on the other hand, I feel that Cufflinks should not be allowed to tell me what words I can and can't use. It feels a little infantilizing. Not to mention, now I'm worried that the other Batman-and-Robin-style non-swears I use in his presence, like "Holy cats!" might also be unacceptable. I don't know how I should react to this. My inclination is to say he can't tell me what to do, but I'll voluntarily refrain from using expressions that offend him - this I realize is not a consistent position. Thoughts?
(And if you're asking yourself why I keep the guy around, here's an example: he may have gotten us an invitation to a Kentucky Derby party somewhere down South a friend's house, where the women all wear big hats and where he will wear a seersucker suit if we go. Big hats! Seersucker! Mint juleps? I don't even know! The kid's all right, is what I'm sayin'.)
Second, and unrelated to food, here is an interpersonal relations question. Last night Cufflinks and I were watching Road to Brazil and I used the word "goddamn" in conversation, as I occasionally do, possibly as a result of reading a lot of Salinger in my formative years. I try not to swear in front of Cufflinks because of his extreme religiousity, but I guess I don't think of what he referred to as "the G.D." as serious swearing. I guess this is because when I was younger and was considering incorporating swears into my vocabulary, my father told me that profanity was okay, but scatological swears were not.
Cufflinks said that he wasn't okay with "the G.D." and I apologized, but it rankled a bit. On the one hand, we are supposed to say when something bothers us so we can talk it out. This is a good policy that has been serving us fairly well, considering what an odd match we are, each of us finding all of the other's values anathema and appalling. So on that count, I am glad he said it bothered him, because now I will know not to do it again.
But on the other hand, I feel that Cufflinks should not be allowed to tell me what words I can and can't use. It feels a little infantilizing. Not to mention, now I'm worried that the other Batman-and-Robin-style non-swears I use in his presence, like "Holy cats!" might also be unacceptable. I don't know how I should react to this. My inclination is to say he can't tell me what to do, but I'll voluntarily refrain from using expressions that offend him - this I realize is not a consistent position. Thoughts?
(And if you're asking yourself why I keep the guy around, here's an example: he may have gotten us an invitation to a Kentucky Derby party somewhere down South a friend's house, where the women all wear big hats and where he will wear a seersucker suit if we go. Big hats! Seersucker! Mint juleps? I don't even know! The kid's all right, is what I'm sayin'.)
Friday, April 11, 2008
No fun
The only thing worse than other people having fun when I am not is other people having REALLY LOUD fun when I am not.
Every day, every hour of the day, there are undergrads on porches, drinking beers, throwing beanbags into the beanbag-throwing boards everyone seems to have for some reason, and listening to music.
Do undergrads not have exams? I am writing a paper on Sartre and one on Tarski, plus I have another Sartre paper and an ethics paper I haven't even started yet, plus a project on word segmentation in Chinese. And I think I have a cold
One more month, and this town is mine.
Every day, every hour of the day, there are undergrads on porches, drinking beers, throwing beanbags into the beanbag-throwing boards everyone seems to have for some reason, and listening to music.
Do undergrads not have exams? I am writing a paper on Sartre and one on Tarski, plus I have another Sartre paper and an ethics paper I haven't even started yet, plus a project on word segmentation in Chinese. And I think I have a cold
One more month, and this town is mine.
Monday, April 7, 2008
A cherished dream realized
Yesterday was pretty much the perfect Sunday in April - it was in the 60s, the daffodils and crocuses were in full bloom, and Cufflinks had invited me to a picnic given by one of his colleagues, who are all very nice, and whom I mostly know at this point, which is great - I love philosophers, but it's very pleasant to meet people from our evil twin department History and Philosophy of Science.
The picnic was held in a park by the hospital. Cufflinks had brought some chicken marinated in barbecue sauce for us, which was really good, and one of his colleagues had brought vegan cupcakes and grilled asparagus for everyone, too. The best part was that Nick, an Australian, had brought a cricket bat and wicket, and after we ate he showed us how to play.
I've wanted to play cricket ever since I became a P.G. Wodehouse fan, and this was a dream come true for me even though I was unsurprisingly very bad at it. (Cufflinks, who takes baseball rather seriously, was pretty good, which was pleasing to watch.) It's actually not a terribly exciting game, at least not at the level we were playing, and not if you're in the field instead of batting. But it was cricket and it was lovely to just be outside with friendly people (and a friendly, eager to help dog) playing a game.
I can hardly wait for summer, but I'm certainly digging spring.
The picnic was held in a park by the hospital. Cufflinks had brought some chicken marinated in barbecue sauce for us, which was really good, and one of his colleagues had brought vegan cupcakes and grilled asparagus for everyone, too. The best part was that Nick, an Australian, had brought a cricket bat and wicket, and after we ate he showed us how to play.
I've wanted to play cricket ever since I became a P.G. Wodehouse fan, and this was a dream come true for me even though I was unsurprisingly very bad at it. (Cufflinks, who takes baseball rather seriously, was pretty good, which was pleasing to watch.) It's actually not a terribly exciting game, at least not at the level we were playing, and not if you're in the field instead of batting. But it was cricket and it was lovely to just be outside with friendly people (and a friendly, eager to help dog) playing a game.
I can hardly wait for summer, but I'm certainly digging spring.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
The Simone de Beauvoir Party
Last night Krista and I had our first official dinner party. Sure, we've had people over in the past - once for a game night and once for Krista's birthday (the time we nearly set the apartment on fire again - but this was our first proper sit-down meal with courses and stuff. I called it our Simone de Beauvoir party because we invited all the female students in our department and in the invitation I said we'd be discussing The Second Sex and braiding each others' hair, but neither of those actually happened.
I made cheese straws for people to nosh on before dinner, as those are what people always have at dinner parties in books. I made them the night before, and I actually found they were best right out of the oven, but they went over rather well. When our guests arrived (we had a total of six people, counting me and Krista) they insisted on sitting on the floor in a circle. It felt sort of like a coven meeting, especially with Susan decked out head to toe in black, with big witchcrafty boots. At one point we were discussing Quine, but the conversation about Quine got mixed up somehow with an aside about a former colleague of Kari's whom Sharon and I had met in Memphis and who apparently thought we were hot. Susan was confused by the overlapping threads of conversation and thought we were discussing who Quine thought was hot. The possibility of breaking out the Ouija board was discussed to settle Quine's opinion once and for all.
I also made my gingered carrot soup and rolls using this recipe, which were rather good even though I didn't exactly follow all the directions. Krista helped by setting the sponge yesterday morning, and when I got back from the grocery store it was all bubbly and sentient. Baking is so cool.
The main course was fettuccine with creamy red pepper sauce (Serious Eats again!) which was disappointing because the pasta stuck together, making it hard to eat. I put a little oil in the water to keep this from happening but it didn't work. Susan brought pumpkin bread pudding for dessert, which was delicious, and we went through two bottles of red wine.
I don't really know much about wine, so when I went to the store to get some for the party I went straight for the Excelsior Cabernet I used to get in Northampton, but they didn't have it. So I asked the fellow working there to recommend a cheap white and a cheap red, and the red he suggested was this:
which I obviously had to get, given the theme of our party. It was pretty good, as far as I could tell. (We now have an unopened bottle of white wine chilling in our fridge, and it will probably be there for quite awhile as Krista and I can't drink a whole bottle of wine all by ourselves. Maybe we'll break it out to celebrate the end of the semester.)
I consider our party a total success - everyone was jolly and seemed to enjoy the spread and be suitably impressed by the from-scratchness of it all, and it was very nice to just spend time with the female portion of the philosophy department - because if there's one thing I love (in all seriousness), it's voluntary gender segregation.
After everyone left, Krista and I did the dishes and then I went and passed out in my room. Having a party really takes it out of you.
I made cheese straws for people to nosh on before dinner, as those are what people always have at dinner parties in books. I made them the night before, and I actually found they were best right out of the oven, but they went over rather well. When our guests arrived (we had a total of six people, counting me and Krista) they insisted on sitting on the floor in a circle. It felt sort of like a coven meeting, especially with Susan decked out head to toe in black, with big witchcrafty boots. At one point we were discussing Quine, but the conversation about Quine got mixed up somehow with an aside about a former colleague of Kari's whom Sharon and I had met in Memphis and who apparently thought we were hot. Susan was confused by the overlapping threads of conversation and thought we were discussing who Quine thought was hot. The possibility of breaking out the Ouija board was discussed to settle Quine's opinion once and for all.
I also made my gingered carrot soup and rolls using this recipe, which were rather good even though I didn't exactly follow all the directions. Krista helped by setting the sponge yesterday morning, and when I got back from the grocery store it was all bubbly and sentient. Baking is so cool.
The main course was fettuccine with creamy red pepper sauce (Serious Eats again!) which was disappointing because the pasta stuck together, making it hard to eat. I put a little oil in the water to keep this from happening but it didn't work. Susan brought pumpkin bread pudding for dessert, which was delicious, and we went through two bottles of red wine.
I don't really know much about wine, so when I went to the store to get some for the party I went straight for the Excelsior Cabernet I used to get in Northampton, but they didn't have it. So I asked the fellow working there to recommend a cheap white and a cheap red, and the red he suggested was this:
which I obviously had to get, given the theme of our party. It was pretty good, as far as I could tell. (We now have an unopened bottle of white wine chilling in our fridge, and it will probably be there for quite awhile as Krista and I can't drink a whole bottle of wine all by ourselves. Maybe we'll break it out to celebrate the end of the semester.)
I consider our party a total success - everyone was jolly and seemed to enjoy the spread and be suitably impressed by the from-scratchness of it all, and it was very nice to just spend time with the female portion of the philosophy department - because if there's one thing I love (in all seriousness), it's voluntary gender segregation.
After everyone left, Krista and I did the dishes and then I went and passed out in my room. Having a party really takes it out of you.
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