GANC: The Bell Jar

This is not the book I set out reading for December's challenge. I may revisit the one I set aside again, but it was a little too much for me given the length of the book and the time I had available to read. And yes, maybe I was being a little lazy, not trying hard enough to get into book X. Such is life and such is reading.

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath was not all that I expected it to be. First off, complete shock on my part that I was able to go through at least two feminist-focused English classes and not even glance at this book. Second, knowing how Plath herself mimicked this book off chapters from her own life, I expected more angst and darkness given how she came to her own end.

Perhaps the most jarring thing about Esther Greenwood and her path to depression and thoughts of suicide was how easily I related to her. There she was, living an enviable summer internship in New York working at a magazine hundreds of girls long for, and she felt entirely out of place. She bought the clothes to fit in, had the right friends to fit in, a social calendar that placed her well to meet the well-to-do and attractive, and yet she felt she was just playing a part. Upon her return home, now without the distractions of the city, she could not quiet the thoughts that had been stirring about all summer. It seemed every place she went, she contemplated how to end her life there. After a failed suicide attempt, she stayed at an institution where it is never clear if Greenwood got better or found a new part to play in order to fit in.

I could not agree more with the introduction to my book: this is most definitely confessional literature. At times I felt like I was eavesdropping with no method of escape. And though it has been over a decade since I read it, I also agree with many who have drawn a string from J. D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye to The Bell Jar. They are in some ways twins, companion pieces.

I think the confessional aspect of this book is necessary to its success, but it is also what moves it a step or two away from being a top pick for the Great American novel. However, the fact that it is indulgent and has the feel of voyeurism shines a light all too bright on American culture presently. This book is all about Esther Greenwood and what people have done to her. And largely that is what America is right now - the constant whine of what people have done to me and how I deserve better, bigger, more, faster. So maybe that knocks it back up a peg or two toward Great American Novel. I think the question is whether Plath was being self-indulgent in writing this, or if she did have a larger message regarding American culture. If the former, this book is a closer relative to books such as The Devil Wears Prada or Sex and the City. If the latter, it fits right in with other great American novels.

Great American Novel Challenge Booklist:

July 2009: Absalom, Absalom! - William Faulkner, publ. 1936

August 2009: Lonesome Dove - Larry McMurtry, publ. 1985

September 2009: Moby Dick - Herman Melville, publ. 1851

October 2009: For Whom the Bell Tolls - Ernest Hemingway, publ. 1940

November 2009: Their Eyes Were Watching God - Zora Neale Hurston, publ. 1937

Thanksgiving, Take 1

I hope that everyone had a restful and enjoyable Thanksgiving. This year was the first time I was away from home, so it was a little difficult at times without the family and familiar foods, but I think Aaron and I did pretty well on our own. Aside from Thanksgiving lunch, we played dominoes and Scrabble and watched some football, the marquee event was of course the Texas A&M vs. t.u. game, which was better than anticipated. As the saying goes, "We did not lose; the clock stopped before we could win."

Now on to what really matters - the food! I had started getting my things together for the meal way back in August. Okay, it was a total accident that happened, but a happy accident. I was wandering around the Farmer's Market and stopped to check out a table I had not seen before for free range chicken. Having recently finished The Omnivore's Dilemma, I thought it a good idea to see what all the fuss was about regarding free range meat. That meat sat happily in my freezer for two months at time forgotten and pushed aside. But Thanksgiving seemed the perfect time to bust it out. Having never roasted my own chicken, I consulted websites and my mom and arrived at a recipe that served us well. I rinsed the chicken out, which gloriously was devoid of its innards, and patted it dry. Salted and peppered inside and out liberally. Stuck a few chunks of celery in the cavity along with tabs of butter in there and a few on top and in the oven it went. Thanks to my handy dandy thermometer, I knew when to baste and when it was done. The chicken hung out on the counter until my other oven dish was completed.

Next up was another new dish, Old Fashioned Grated Sweet Potato Pudding, from Cookwise. This one made me nervous, especially since the previous day I heard that some sweet potatoes are hard and some soft. I knew I needed soft, but had no clue which I had gotten. I fear I used hard sweet potatoes because they were a little crunchy even after being grated into little rice-sized bits and baked for about an hour. And it did not turn out pudding-like, but more granular. Also, there was way too much ginger for my taste, though in eating leftovers the taste has either mellowed or I have grown accustomed to it. Something to try again, but with a few tweaks.

In order to not have a bottleneck at the oven Thursday, I made cornbread Wednesday. It is a recipe I have used a few times now and always with great results. In the past I have thrown some corn in it, but this time I went by the book and I think it is better sans corn kernels. Little butter on it and it is good to go.

We added a little salad to our plates and the feast was on! The chicken was undoubtedly the highlight of the meal. I did not quite get the feel that I will never eat regular chicken again... until I ate some of the dark meat. It was as if I were tasting chicken for the first time. Packed with incredible flavor that did not come from my salt, pepper and celery. Wow. Two thumbs way up for that.

After lunch, Aaron and I played games, Aaron winning all of them despite a few rematches. Soon, it was time for dinner - but what about dessert? Well, we did dessert for dinner, which I think is an excellent way to gorge on the lunch and still have room to gorge on dessert. Aaron and I struck a compromise on this since I do not like pumpkin pie and Aaron detests anything lemon, hence no lemon meringue for me. Apple dumplings with vanilla bean ice cream. The apples erupted a bit from their puff pastry housing, but it all tasted good. The ice cream tasted close to the homemade vanilla bean I have made in the past, too. All in all very yummy.

Oh! I almost forgot about my mulled cider. I cannot remember if my mom would make a batch of apple cider every year, but it was often enough for me to pine for it once fall came around. I thought if I made it one day on my own, I would be wasting a batch of perfectly good cider by myself. Sure, Aaron is only one more person, but my longing was so deep at this point one more person was all the excuse I needed. And then Aaron did not have any of it, while I think I drank half the pot on Thanksgiving alone. Warm, a little spicy, not cloyingly sweet, and the oranges added a great citrus note. This recipe is a great starting point for updates and additions to the pot next go round. In fact, I may go get a cup right now.

I hope all of you had a great time with family and friends, and I would like to say how thankful I am that you not only read my little corner of the blogosphere, but you are beautiful friends outside of it. Even though you were not at my Thanksgiving, you were thought of and are cherished.

Confessions of a Cookie Snatcher

Now that I am out of my parents' house and far enough away that they cannot ground me, I may now admit to something - I snuck and ate my dad's molasses cookies from time to time. They were slightly spicy, sugar dusted and delicious, and I could not keep my paws off them. Sorry Dad! Ever since, I look for a decent molasses cookie recipe that holds a candle to the store bought ones I pilfered.

I am happy to report I have not only found a recipe that is as good as those cookies, but I think these are even better. Molasses Crinkles are chewy, spicy, and perfect with a cup of hot tea on a crisp fall day. I made a batch for the Fall Retreat my church had a couple weeks ago. Unfortunately, my humble cookies were outshone by more jazzy desserts like oreo brownies and apple cake, but people did not know what they were missing. Aaron even became a spokesperson for the cookies, but to no avail. Which, in the end, just meant more for us.

Recipes usually say how many servings or slices or cookies it makes, and I rarely achieve that exact number. But with this one, it was exactly 48 cookies, and I was quite impressed with myself. They take a little more effort to make than the average cookie with the chill time and rolling each in sugar, but the payoff is huge. Wonderful two- or three-bite cookie. The type of cookie that merits a cookie jar and monthly making in autumnal and winter seasons.

Early Thanksgiving Dinner

Last night my small group had a pre-Thanksgiving Day dinner together that was light on the traditional Thanksgiving food and heavy on, as I saw it, some Texas foods and flavors. Pork ribs, baked potatoes, macaroni and cheese, biscuits and salad. Matt and Kristin fired up their grill and made some excellent ribs that were not too messy for my taste. The mac and cheese, courtesy of Sharon and Dan, was really good and a little spicy thanks to the inclusion of Ro-Tel tomatoes. Brian and Kathy provided the biscuits and salad both of which were superb. Aaron baked some taters using our man Alton's instructions, which are:

Preheat oven to 350.

1. Clean your russet potato of dirt and pat it dry.

2. Use a fork to poke holes all over the spud.

3. Lightly coat surface of tater with canola oil, which makes for a nice little crunch on the skin.

4. Sprinkle the potato with kosher salt.

5. Place the tater directly on the rack in middle of oven.

6. Wait about an hour and your spud should be done.

For my contribution I made two pies, with mixed aesthetic success. What should have taken about two hours for both pies took pretty much all day. The problem? The crust. Apparently there was an unequal distribution of butter in one of the pies, which yielded mid-baking sinking of the sides of the crust. So, in the end, I ended up with one pretty pie, one sunken pie crust, and one pie with sunken edges that were Frankensteined here and there. Meringue covers a world of ugly, that is all I am saying.

Pie #1 was old-fashioned fudge pie, which I had made before and turned out even better this go round. It is simple to make, looks like it took a long time, and tastes amazing.

The second pie is where the troubles began. A week or two ago, I was reading of my regular blogs, Homesick Texan, and she wrote of a "new favorite" pie she is sharing with her family this Thanksgiving - peanut butter pie. Immediately, I knew this pie would be featured in my month of November, even if I had to make it and eat it all myself. I heart peanut butter.

Sadly, this is the pie where my crust did not want to cooperate, so the second crust attempt for this pie (Franken-pie, if you will) was the one presented to my dear groupies. Thankfully, the pretty meringue distracted from the ugly pie crust.

In my flurry over the crust debacle, I failed to heed the recipe's advice to either use unsweetened peanut butter or lower the sugar if you use sweetened PB. I used sweetened PB and the full sugar amount and it came out a little on the sweet side, in my opinion. Also, when the recipe says stir the sugar, egg, and milk mixture until bubbles and thickens, it may take more than 10 minutes and wait until it thickens. I almost placed custard soup in my crust, forgetting that a few minutes in the oven to brown the meringue would not magically thicken the custard - that would have been bad. However, the subtle star of this pie show was the cayenne. I may have been the only one to notice it since I was the only one who knew there was a dash of it in the custard, but added this whisper of heat at the end of a bite that brought the pie up a notch or two, in my opinion.

All in all, it was a fantastic dinner with friends and a wonderful evening of laughing at one other's phonetic skills at Mad Gab - Deal of France!

Asian Noodles with Steak and Snow Peas

(This is from the draft archives circa September, and I just now rediscovered it. Enjoy!)

Finally a return to food! It feels like ages since I have gotten the chance to make something worth writing about. I made Asian Noodles with Steak and Snow Peas this past weekend for Aaron and myself and it won rave reviews from both of us. Aaron even dropped by my apartment by surprise Sunday for high def football and leftovers, and Aaron is not a fan of the leftover. I cannot recall where the recipe came from, so apologies to wherever I found it.

First of all, this dish is as simple as making spaghetti with meat sauce, but far more unique and flavorful. The steak is tender and flavorful, the snow peas add nice crunch and the peanuts cut through the flavors with a pleasant taste. I do not think the soba noodles are as dry as Italian-style noodles, so I did not notice the absence of a sauce. Nice combination of flavors I would not have naturally put together. A meal worth repeating.

Asian Noodles with Steak and Snow Peas

coarse salt and ground black pepper
8 oz. soba (Japanese buckwheat noodles)
1.5 lb. skirt steak, cut in half or thirds if too large to fit in skillet
1 lb. snow peas, stem ends removed
2 Tb. soy sauce
1/4 cup unsalted peanuts, chopped

In a pot of boiling salted water, cook noodles until al dente, about 7 minutes. Drain; set aside.

Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat. Season steak with salt and pepper. Cook (in batches if necessary), turning once, until medium rare, about 2 to 6 minutes per side. Transfer steak to a cutting board, and loosely tent with aluminum foil (reserve skillet juices).

Add snow peas to skillet and toss with juices. Cook on medium-high tossing occasionally, until crisp-tender, 2 to 3 minutes. Add noodles, soy sauce and 2 tablespoons water, cook until warmed through, about 20 seconds. Transfer to serving bowls. Slice steak thinly; place on top of noodles, and add any accumulated juices. Scatter with peanuts and serve.

GANC: Their Eyes Were Watching God

I am not sure about this book. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston is a decent book, but I did not grasp its importance in American history. Written in 1937 by an African American woman, this book went in and out of print and the American conscience until the late 60s when largely female African American professors unearthed it and began teaching and writing about it. Is this a case where the book's greatness prompted the teaching and focus, or did the teaching and focus prompt this book's greatness?

As most of you know, I am not an African American female, nor have I read and researched much in African American literature, so there is an obvious gap in my knowledge. Perhaps I am making an unfair parallel, but if this book were written by a white female about poor white people, I am unconvinced it would have the standing it does today. However, I am not here to compare a mythical book to this one, I am here to talk about the book I read.

Beautifully descriptive passages. This is the most superb part of the book, Hurston's elegant and unique way of expressing the time and place of action. In the opening of the book, this:

"Seeing the woman as she was made them remember the envy they had stored up from other times. So they chewed up the back parts of their minds and swallowed with relish. They made burning statements with questions, and killing tools out of laughs. It was mass cruelty. A mood come alive. Words walking without masters, walking altogether like harmony in a song."

This plays in stark contrast to the rural Southern dialect the characters speak. "At dat she ain't so ole as some of y'all dat's talking," for instance. It is so jolting to the eye that once you encounter the eloquent words, you hope they go on for pages. And then, when the dialect erupts, you change your rhythm and cadence and almost speak the writing yourself to understand it. Hurston grew up with this dialect, so to read these contrasting words echoes of how she must feel - history of rural, life now of sweet eloquence.

Perhaps this book fell short for me because of what I read about it before chapter one. I read the forward, which is usually a smart thing to do should a book have one. But in this case, I feel the forward puffed the book up in a way that as I dug into it, my grand picture of what the book was to be fell short. It was like hearing all your friends talk about how awesome a movie is and then seeing it yourself and it not being as great because it had been so talked up for you. Disappointing.

This is an excellent novel of a side and voice of America not often placed center stage. It is stark and beautiful, simple and pained. A woman rising above history, stereotype, men, fortune, and family in order to find her happiness. Is it the great American novel? No. Is it a great African American/woman's perspective novel? I think so.

Great American Novel Challenge Booklist:

July 2009: Absalom, Absalom! - William Faulkner, publ. 1936

August 209: Lonesome Dove - Larry McMurtry, publ. 1985

September 2009: Moby Dick - Herman Melville, publ. 1851

October 2009: For Whom the Bell Tolls - Ernest Hemingway, publ. 1940

Soup's On! (Slow Cooker Hoisin Beef Stew)

This past weekend brought another batch of soups for the eating. I perused my recipe collection and found a Whole Foods "Meals for 4 under $15" pamphlet with Slow Cooker Hoisin Beef Stew included as one of the five recipes. Yet another super easy meal. And super tasty. The hardest part for me was cutting the onions - man, I got some tearjerkers this time! When I put everything together to marinate overnight, I was worried because I had to guess on what 1.5 pounds of meat was; the smallest beef stew meat amount they had was 2.7 pounds. The sauce looked paltry and I worried that I would end up with dry meat and no "stew."

However, after letting it cook all day and creating a sweet barbecue-like aroma in my apartment, there was enough sauce, though not enough to qualify as stew. Aaron brought over his rice cooker so we could ladle the beef over some toothsome brown rice. I was not risking a repeat of burning or, my most recent accomplishment, water logging my rice. All the flavors and chunks go together so well, and it has this little wisp of spice that warms you up. The large beef chunks cooked and softened so they shredded into smaller pieces, which meant we were able to get a little of everything in our bowls in each bite. I cannot wait to use the rest of my stew meat for another pot of this great meal.