Saturday, February 4, 2012

All the clocks were high.

I love this clock, because it's different, and yet the difference is subtle.
(And unnerving for anyone who looks at it the first time.)


I also like it because something about it reminds me of Salvador Dali and his melting clocks and irreverent feelings about time ...

I also love it because it reminds me of this poem by Stephen Dunn, "Zero Hour."

Yes, the hands run backward.


Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Cinnaminis!

WHAT HOMEWORK? WHAT 9AM CLASS?


I made these cinnamon buns (but perfect-sized) from the recipe on this blog. You won't believe how easy they are, which is unfortunate, because now I'm going to want to make them all the time.

As per usual, as soon as I thought about using the oven my two alternating-death-squeal fire alarms went off, and in spite of open windows and fans blowing (hello, January) they continued to go off for at least five minutes. In fact, a few minutes after they stopped in my apartment, lingering maliciousness must have set one off in a neighboring apartment. I'd apologize, but seeing as these bad boys weren't even a LITTLE BIT BURNED, I don't think it's my fault.

Anyway, I'm going to go back to stuffing my face.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Butternut Squash Soup Discourse on Grad School

Grad school is an interesting phenomenon, because it leads to highly irregular events. Take, for example, cooking. As an undergrad, Brittany and I had an agreement: She cooked, and I cleaned. I was OK with this, because I only like cooking when it's a group activity, and sadly, such is rarely the case.

Mind you, this was in no way correlated with a lack of experience cooking. Learning to cook (and the mastery of hand-washing dishes of all sorts) is part of the mandatory Ariotti-household certification and life-training program. I just never really made it past the lazy stage when I wasn't under the direct threat of family sanctions.

This brings me back to grad school. The nice thing about grad school is that it is so supremely unpleasant that it calls up urges to do all sorts of things you had never been interested in when you hadn't been so busy hating what you were doing. For example, cooking. I started going to the farmer's market, buying real food (I'm herein precluding a discussion of what constitutes food, but suffice it to say I'm taking Hamburger Helper and Kraft's off the table [just realized that's a pun, I crack myself up]) and using the internet to find new recipes. And it's surprisingly fun, in spite of the fact that I'm cooking by myself for only me, with podcasts and Skype dates for company.

Tonight I decided that the time had come to address the butternut squash I had purchased in [early] October. I guess they must be some kind of resistant, winter-type vegetable, because this one was as good as new! Anyway, I have my mom's soup recipe (from the cookbook by Joey's), plus the one I found on this blog, so I decided to go buy the few ingredients I was missing and call it a night. 

I should maybe cop to the fact that I haven't changed so very much since the old days: as my former apartment roomies know well, any excuse not to address the work you need to finish is a valid one. My inspiration is thus in part derived from my lack of interest in analyzing beta coefficients and remembering how to read regression tables.

Anyway, back to important things, like the epic way in which I just ruled over my kitchen.
Note: I used way more squash than this, I just neglected to photo-document my awesomeness until midway through the prep.

(Yes, that's my cutting board. Is anyone really surprised?)

Forgot the intermediate step shot, but here's when I started scooping the softened chunks of squash and sweet potato into the blender that the greatest mother in the universe got me for Christmas in a burst of thorough brilliance (my kitchen knows no bounds -- wait until I start in with the eggbeater she also got me!) ... You may notice that the blender is small. This step was repeated a handful of times to get all of the soup pureed. This is after I first used it to chop onions, carrots and celery, which were added to the rest of the simmering pot (recipe at the bottom of the post). I left it a bit chunky because this isn't Campbell's, damnit, and I like texture.


I get that this is maybe not the most beautiful thing you may have seen in your life, but KEEP YOUR PANTIES ON, and let's put our aesthetic pants back in the closet, alright? It's delicious, I don't care how it looks. Making the food pretty is far more critical when it is deficient in DELICOUSNESS, which this is not.

Here is the part of the soup that went into a pot with some half and half and milk, for immediate consumption.


Here is the vegetable puree, sans perishable dairy products, that I'm planning to freeze unless the world's greatest mommy tells me that there's some reason I shouldn't freeze it. If such is the case, I'm going to be eating this soup for weeks straight (somehow, I think I'd be OK with that). First, the aforementioned world's greatest mommy must answer her phone, for such critical details as vegetable-freezing logistics and whether or not half and half is an acceptable substitute for heavy cream.


Voila! I'm so proud of myself I don't even feel a little bit guilty about the fact that it's 9:30 pm and I haven't touched my math homework. TAKE THAT, MULTIVARIATE ANALYSIS FOR POLITICAL RESEARCH!

Anyway, here is the recipe. I'm sort of inventing Molly-measurements as I go, because I am a firm believer in eyeballs, not measuring cups.

1/2 butternut squash (mine was rather enormous, that said) ... peeled and cubed.
1 medium sweet potato, peeled and cubed
2 stalks of celery, chopped
a handful of baby carrots, chopped
2 chicken bouillon cubes (or powder, or stock, whatever you have lying around)
1/2 onion (I used yellow or white, I don't really know what the difference is), chopped
dollop of garlic (I cheated and used a dollop of the pre-chopped, in-a-jar-refrigerated kind)
butter.
salt.
pepper.
nutmeg.
water.
milk/half and half
Sautee the chopped onion in butter. Add the cubed squash and sweet potato, and enough water to mostly cover them. (Or if you're better equipped than I am, use less and put a lid on the pot. I suppose it's the same effect.)

Add in bouillon cubes and garlic, as well as the finely chopped carrots and celery. As the water boiled off I kept adding just enough to keep everything from burning. I also salted and peppered indiscriminately.

When everything seems to be pretty soft, turn off the heat and prepare for the puree fun. If you have a mini food processor from your awesome mom, you'll have to do a multistage blending process like I did. If you're fancy, well, do it all at once. GOOD FOR YOU.

Dump the now pureed (I left mine a little bit chunky because I like that better) mixture into a pot, add enough of a part milk, part half and half (so, does that make it quarter and quarter?) to make it the soupy consistency you so desire. Sprinkle some nutmeg in there, if you like. Heat it up, and you've finished!

Interesting, writing what I did is not only way faster, it also leaves far fewer dishes in the sink. 

Now I only have to find a recipe to use up the OTHER half of the butternut squash that isn't a part of the weeks' supply of soup puree I made tonight. Suggestions?










Monday, January 16, 2012

"You're lucky I'm not singing everything to you"

This past weekend I made a last-minute trip to NYC to visit all of my loves (although my inability to plan made this more difficult)! 

Friday was Emma-and-Molly-pretend-they-have-no-work-to-do, followed by [multiple] drinks with Dana (and Steve). On Saturday, Kelly made me her date for Tosca at The MET (opera), and

IT WAS AWESOME. Awesomely awesome. This not including the fact that she had won ORCHESTRA seats and they were in what I consider the best portion of any concert hall. It pretty much made my life. Then I befriended two French women who were taking pictures, and they took some for us ...


Don't be fooled by our clothing, it was FREEZING outside (and we both had flats in my purse, because those heels were not happening either). 


Not only was it cold, it was incredibly windy, which made this even more miserable. So Kelly and I went home and buried ourselves under her electric blanket. Then we went out that night to dance, but ESPECIALLY so I could see Brian (and Dan)!

The next day Julie and Lana joined us (Kelly, Dan, and me) for brunch in my FAVORITE PLACE EVER, DiWine. Banana bread French toast. Need I say more? Later on there was a cafe stop ... And it was as if the staff there knew me ...


Then Julie and Kelly and I did lots of hanging out and girl talk, which included a trip to get my first ever pedicure. Surprisingly, I did not dissolve into a ball of ticklish giggles, and I have pretty toes now.


Don't bother pointing out the fact that no one is going to see these except me (and only when I'm not so cold that I have to have three pairs of ski socks on). I already know, and I'm not listening to you!

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Un-wedding!

Well, as you probably knew, Johan and I [almost] got married! The legal ceremony was supposed to be the 29th of December, but the French SNAFU on the date means that we'll handle that part at some point, someday.

Of greater importance was the fact that we had the party, and that my WHOLE family came to Paris together!



Andy came too! He got adopted for the visit, so here's the extended family shot:


And here's my favorite one!


Big thanks to Cédric Pinchon for coming and bringing his beautiful camera (not to mention talent!) to help us out :)

Saturday, December 3, 2011

I'm just going to see if my head fits in this oven.

I am  in no way avoiding working on my final papers [cough cough], but I feel compelled to share the stupid that I have just witnessed. I also feel that I should preface by stating quite openly that I do not consider myself a "feminist," BUT I do consider myself to be a female worthy of some intellectual merit.

I have long meant to delete my email from Victoria's Secret's mailing list, because they consistently suggest that my goals in life should center upon the purchase of inordinate quantities of underwear, and bras designed with enough padding to insulate a small house. As you may imagine, I disagree with their beliefs.

Just now, I received this email, with the subject "PINK loves Sunday football."


It's amazing how accurately they have portrayed my average Sunday! I LOVE sitting around in my underwear, suggestively undressing myself, and making stupid faces at the TV! Never mind my shirts vs. skins powderpuff games with pink, polka-dotted helmets!

Oh sorry, gotta go - I heard the women's liberation train is leaving town, and I want to make sure I'm on it!


Thursday, December 1, 2011

Ah yes, but what of Uzbeki-beki-bekistan?

As some of you may be aware, I am from CENTRAL New York. Not midtown, CNY. In fact, you may remember that I earned myself a rash of hate mail as an innocent [cough] freshman writer for Pipe Dream, with this article.

Today, John McCain gave me reason to believe that I should give him just a teensy bit more credit than I have been, by creating a scandal with this statement.

BOOM.

I cannot possibly explain to you the vindication, the cackling with glee, the victory dances, the imaginary spiking of my imaginary Ugg boots ... In fact, I will vigorously deny all of them. Nevertheless, this probably just made my day/week/life.

I can't decide if I like McCain's comment better, or if I prefer Schumer's Twitter hissy fit. I think it's safe to say that the incremental increase in my respect for John McCain is trumped by a precipitous drop in my respect for Chuck Schumer. Seriously, dude. Lighten up. Your constituents are not generally the type to watch political debates/read the news/follow current events (no offense, Val, this is a qualified statement).

In further geographical news, as reduxed by my impeccable procrastination efforts, I give you this gem. He had me at "Princess Nancy," but he truly won my heart and mind with his refined grasp of foreign policy and international relations.

And then I remembered that I'm not reading The Onion or McSweeneys, and I decided that perhaps graduate school in political science is far more difficult than running for the highest office in the land.