Friday, December 4, 2009

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

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

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.

Monday, November 23, 2009

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.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

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!

Thursday, November 12, 2009

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.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

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

Monday, October 26, 2009

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.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Hello, Old Friend

I am not a Facebooker (or whatever people who Facebook are called). Yes, I have an account and, no, I do not use it really. However, it has come in handy from time to time. Learning of a friend's pregnancy or engagement or marriage, a big move, or a new job. Well, let's file this Facebook discovery under big move and new job...sort of.

I was reading the updates and one of my friends growing up (and high school classmate), stated that it was really good to see Brian play last night, it had been a long time since he'd seen him. Now, to most people reading that, probably would not have meant much. But I had a strong suspicion that I knew who this Brian person was.

Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to the guy I took to my senior banquet, Brian Bandas...


He's the first guy you see - the one in the white shirt and one playing the yellow guitar. When I knew him, he was our youth group's band leader, starting a band called Three Nails Short, learning to play harmonica like John Popper, and working at Chick-fil-A. I knew I would see him in music some day and would Google him from time to time to see if he had made it big yet. So, to see that he and his band have a record deal and an album coming out makes me pretty proud of the guy. Good job, Bandas.

(Here's a link to his band's CMT profile - Love and Theft.)

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Soup's On! (Beans & Barley)

Ooh, a food post, a rare thing these past months - yippee! Lest you think I have been living off PB & J and take out, I promise you I have been actually making food, just not a lot of note. Or I have pictures of food that have not been uploaded and I am a procrastinator. Perhaps a little of column A, little of column B.

Last week, I decided with the temp dip into the 70s that it was time to begin soup season. Yes, anything below 80 qualifies as cool weather for this Texan. Aaron and I schemed to split the soup between us and have enough for almost a week's worth of dinner each. We began with Slow Cooker Bean and Barley Soup. Just before bed, I chopped up carrots, celery and onion, dumped them into the Crock Pot along with beans (I used a bag of 15-bean), barley, water and a few cans and seasonings, turned the Crock Pot on, went to bed and awoke Saturday morning the warm aroma of cooked beans. Added a few more things per the recipe and scooped it all into containers. Tada!

The soup came out thick, more on the line with almost a chili. When I reheated it for dinner that night, I added some chicken stock to thin it a little, but water of course could be used. I thought it was on the salty side, so I would reduce the amount of salt at the beginning a little, or the amount of Parmesan at the end. I may have added a little more cheese than asked for. The beans and barley soften well and blend together with the veggies and spices quite well. The beans more or less kept their shape, so it is not like you are eating mush for lunch. Add some hearty crusty bread on the side and you have a fantastically filling meal.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

GANC: For Whom the Bell Tolls

For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway surprised me. I had heard horror stories of high school friends reading The Old Man and the Sea, so I suspected an even longer book by Hemingway would prove somewhat painful. It was no easy road, but it was, dare I say, enjoyable to read. For Whom the Bell Tolls is a hard book to put your finger on. Set during the Spanish Civil War, it follows an American as he bands together with a group of Republican guerrilla fighters as he sets in motion a plan to blow up a Fascist-controlled bridge. The majority of the book is the three days leading up to the bridge explosion.

Perhaps I should back up a little. The book opens with part of a poem by John Donne, from which the title of the book acquires its name.

No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Mannor of thy friends or of thine owne were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.
(Italics Hemingway's)

The theme of this book draws largely from the sentiment of no man being an island. Hemingway shows how even a small group of people from disparate backgrounds and motives, need one another in order to advance their goal. Throughout the novel, there is an ebb and flow of coming together and breaking apart. Sometimes it is simple, as when Robert Jordan, the Ingles, leaves his lover Maria to scout out the bridge. Other times it is more far-reaching, as when Pablo steals some of the weaponry and disappears, leaving the group short ammunition, men, and horses. It is beautifully detailed and simply written. A slow progression of Jordan's movement from idealist to something else, something more tangible and true.

However, none of that is about the great American novel-ness of the book (or not). Robert Jordan is a symbol of a young ideal American. He sees a problem in Spain, wants to help and so he goes, not giving thought to what or who he is fighting for. He signed up for a cause and, after he met the people, the cause became blurred. It stopped being good against evil. As America, we look though ideal lenses out on the world, seeing where we can fix things, where people need our help. And we go, to create for ourselves an even more ideal place abroad, to bring our idealism to the masses. When we arrive, after the luster has faded, we see how much we have to learn, how small we really are, and that what we came to do may not be what we should do. It is a sentiment I have not seen often in books by American authors.

Despite that, I am not convinced this is the great American novel. It is a superb novel, but there is not a lot of outright American to it. I have no doubt that Hemingway is a great American author, and I look forward to reading more of his books in the future, but For Whom the Bell Tolls does not meet my expectations of being a novel to raise up as a great American one. I hesitate to write that because it is excellent, excellently written and excellently executed. What is funny is if you were to change this from Spanish Revolution to American Revolution or Civil War, even Vietnam, I think I would bump it closer toward the ideal great American novel. Perhaps it falters because I know as much about this war as I have learned from this book and Pan's Labyrinth - not a whole lot.

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

Friday, September 4, 2009

GANC: Moby Dick

Moby Dick by Herman Melville was not what I expected. Perhaps I ran into a case where I am so familiar with the climax, the focus of the tale, that at every turn of the page I expected a siting of the White Whale and a Moby Dick. vs. Ahab fight to the death. It took over four-fifths of the book for the whaling vessel Pequod to even see the whale. So, if the book is not about a fight between a whale and a man, what is it about?

This is the point, early on, that things begin to fall apart for me. This book is so thick with meaning, layering and heft, and I was unable to devote the time and intensity necessary to understand even half of it. Where's Mrs. Jackson, my high school English teacher, when you need her? But I will try to piece together what little I did get about and from the story.

In a way, the two main character, Ahab (the captain) and Ishmael (the narrator and crew member) counter balance one another elegantly. Ahab seeks Moby Dick in order to conquer it, to know it in its death. Ishmael, on the other hand, seems to want an adventure and to know the ins and outs of whales in general. Many chapters are devoted to Ishmael discussing types of whales, bones of whales, intellect of whales, whales in literature, whales in art, uses of whale parts, the benevolence or malevolence of different whales. One man desires to know one whale to its soul. Another to know all whales' in their parts, possibly in hopes of explaining to himself, and thus the reader, Ahab's passionate pursuit of Moby Dick.

In addition to this ongoing discussion of knowledge and knowing, Melville incorporates a discussion of fate and prophesy throughout the book. This one was harder for me to track since it did not typically consist of a chapter-long aside, as did Ishmael's discussion on whales. From seemingly insane men prophesying doom to the very name of the ship, Pequod, a Native American tribe that did not last long after white men arrived, this permeating sense of doom weaves its tendrils throughout the book. The reader senses the tragic outcome before many of the characters do.

As for how Moby Dick relates and interacts with American culture, I posit that this is the quintessential tale of man versus nature as well as single-minded pursuit. To extrapolate to our culture, this theme touches on conquering the unconquerable and ambitiously pursuing a goal at all costs, things that define what has come to be the American stereotype. That relentless pursuit sometimes yields great progress and light, and sometimes it yields a person's own White Whale. If one were ask the average American for literary examples of these ideals, most would not name Moby Dick, but it is there in the background, just under the surface below visibility.

Great American Novel Challenge Booklist:
July 2009: Absalom, Absalom! - William Faulkner, publ. 1936
August 2009: Lonesome Dove - Larry McMurtry, publ. 1985

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Rice: 1, Me: 0

Once again last night, I proved to myself that I have given the name of my blog an apt title. Boy howdy was there some smoke! It all began innocently enough with my attempt to make dinner that was not a sandwich or scrambled eggs. It is getting to that point with my foodstuffs that a grocery trip is of vital importance...unless I can find some recipes for the numerous condiments I collect. Seriously, three or four types of mustard, three mayo-like spreads, four or five dressings, two jars of salsa, various Asian sauces, and an assortment of other dipping and spreading sauces.

Anyway, back to my smoky night. I decided to make pork and brown rice. Marinated the pork in some teriyaki sauce I had in the fridge and put the rice on to cook. As I am reading my GANC book (one day, 100 pages - can I do it? Find out tomorrow!) I begin to notice a nutty aroma. Thinking that typical for brown rice and simply a smell previously unnoticed, I continued on. About five minutes after that, the nutty transitioned to a smell I can only equate to burnt popcorn.

Upon arriving at the stove, I quickly see the source. My pot of rice is filled with a thick fog of smoke, its burner still on the high setting I had for boiling the water. The burner next to it, however, was set on the lovely low temperature needed to cook rice. Sigh. I take the charred pot off the burner, run to dismantle the screeching smoke alarm, and survey the damage.

One pot of rice - Ruined unless you like the taste of nutty charcoal
One apartment - Smoke as thick as a biker dive bar
One pot - Unscathed save for a thin layer of black char reminiscent of dried magma from a volcano

After some soaking, scrubbing and more scrubbing, the pot was almost back to its pre-rice condition. My apartment was not smoke-filled, but only smoke scented. The pork turned out fairly well and I found a box of couscous in the depths of my pantry. It did not burn.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

International Zombie Relations

After last night's game night turned economic and political discussion at itty bitty group (too few people to qualify as "small"), I thought this article fitting and somewhat hilarious. It is an educational and sobering look at international relations approaches in a zombie outbreak. The author, Daniel Drezner, selects a few choice theories (structural realism, neoconservatism, etc) and explores how a society, or leader of a society, from the chosen school of thought would approach dealing with, aligning, or attacking zombies.

If you were to ask me how a liberal institutionist differs from a neoconservatist, I would smile and quickly change the subject. Because that smile would be about the limit of my knowledge on the subject. However, I feel as outlandish as this zombie scenario may be, it is an excellent entry point for someone like me who wants to know more but feels any approach to these theories would be tantamount to climbing Mount Everest - possible, but arduous and potentially fatal. The zombies also allow for the discussion to be simpler than a discussion of US relations with Iran, for instance. By using zombies instead of a current country or people group, a person is able to step back and look at the whole picture and learn that maybe, just maybe, some of the things we thought our country, or other countries, were doing rightly in regard to international relations may not be as peachy keen as it seems.

So, if there were a zombie outbreak, what would you want your government to do in response?

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

It's a Miracle!

...or just about as close to one as I can manage. I have found the ultimate carpet/upholstery stain remover you have never heard of. First, a little story.

A long, long time ago (last year) in a land far, far away (Aaron's place), I sat down with Aaron for a lovely dinner in front of the television. We were to dine on a pasta concoction while no doubt watching a riveting and thought-provoking film. Realizing I was needing a napkin, I arose and went forth to attain said prize. Before attainment and long-lasting happiness occurred, though, I toppled Aaron's full glass of cranberry juice on the carpet in a projectile pattern as experts in the field of blood spatter may see at their jobs. I do believe my face was about the hue of the split juice. We tried to sop up as much as possible, using damp rags to get the multiple spots out, but to no avail. And, ever since then, I have looked upon those spots as a visible manifestation of all my clumsy shortcomings...the ones that are never cute or endearing, but always annoying and testy.

Cut to two weekend when, having nothing better to do other than clean my place up, I decided instead to clean Aaron's place. I know, it may not make much sense to some to avoid cleaning my casa but being perfectly happy doing so to another's, but that is how this mind works. I faced my foe, my shame, with powerful tools. First, the much touted Resolve High Traffic Foam Cleaner. I followed the directions, waited 15 minutes, then vacuumed up the foam to reveal...the same spots.

Enter the mystery stain remover. I sprayed it on the spots, then started scrubbing them with an old toothbrush then dabbing with a dry washcloth. A few minutes and some elbow grease later - no more spots. After about a year of cranberry juice and dirt caking on the carpet, it looked like that fateful day never occurred. Such relief to know the carpet guilt trip is gone!

So, what is this mystery remover? Method Go Naked All Surface Cleaner. I wish I could take credit for this discovery, but I read about it on some other website whose address has been long forgotten but fondly remembered. I do not know how it does it or what magic potion Method put in this bottle, but I plan on having this puppy on standby forever. It faced a worthy foe in cranberry juice, but completely dominated the competition, not even giving the stain a moment of relief. If I could fashion a little cape for my Go Naked cleaner bottle, I would. It's my hero!

(A whole post about guilty spots and not one Lady McBeth reference? I am not sure whether to be ashamed or proud of myself.)

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

GANC: Lonesome Dove

What a refreshing book to read after last month's literary aerobics. Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry is my second book in The Great American Novel Challenge. This book may never be on many lists as one of the great novels in American history, but I fear that is only because it is not steeped in heavy prose and a dictionary of multi-syllabic vocabulary. Instead it is built in an unpretentious style that welcomes the reader in as a fellow traveler. Lonesome Dove exemplifies everything I feel a great American novel should contain. It has action, adventure, exploration, romance, murder, tall tales, moral dilemmas, humor, strong characters (I dare you to find a weakly written character in the whole bunch). At times I question the true success or value of list-topping items or award winners, but this novel definitely deserves its 1986 Pulitzer Prize.

At its most basic, this is a book about a cattle drive from south Texas north to Montana. It follows a crew of men (and a woman) - a mix of Texas Rangers, greenhorns, and immigrants - as they go north, encounter old friends and enemies, make new ones on both counts and try to survive all nature throws at them. This novel sets the cowboy stereotype on its head. The former Texas Rangers steal horses and cattle, the Mexicans in the outfit are hard-working and wise, and the women are more than a person who cries and waves good-bye when their men leave for the cattle drive. Every hero is flawed, the good guys die sometimes, the reader cares about the bad guys and, above all, there is heart. There is a refreshing transparency to many of the characters - they speak their minds and never once does McMurtry write one of them expressing him or herself in a manner out of character. Even the in the most guarded or hardened of people, those small cracks are written in their story such that humanity shines through.

In a greater sense, though, this is a book about self-discovery. Men and women seeking out what they have longed for, whether it be a lost relationship, a new start in life, respect among peers, closure, reconciliation. It must be difficult to fit so many personal discoveries into a book, but McMurtry accomplishes it with seamless fluidity. Nothing is pressured or jumps out as out of context or character. Nor does self revelation upon self revelation stack atop one another. It, much like the rivers theses men cross, meanders and roams, bending one way then another, cutting a new path with a sudden flood. I by no means imply that this is a book where, to borrow a Western film stereotype, the black hats lose and the white hats win every time. As I mentioned earlier, the good guys die in the book - due to past mistakes, wrong allegiances, stubbornness, and the natural dangers of the frontier. However, for the most part, each is allowed his own closure, though it may not be of the kind he wanted for himself.

To me though, that is what made the epic story all the more personal, even beyond sympathizing in the loss of comrades or the joy of reunion. When a sandstorm kicks up on the cattle drive, you as the reader feels the stinging grains on your cheek and the glass shard particles in your eyes. When some of the outfit must decide whether to hang one of their own for murder, you agonize over the decision with them. When frontier surgeries are performed, you are right there with them wincing and feeling queasy. And so, in your own way, as a reader you too are on a journey of self-discovery.

If I have left any doubt, let me state it clearly here - this is most assuredly and positively one of the greatest American novels I have had the joy to read. I would place it on the shelf with Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, To Kill a Mockingbird, Little Women and others as a book I would relish escaping with time and time again and point to as an excellent window in to superb, if fictional, Americans.

Great American Novel Challenge Booklist:
July 2009: Absalom, Absalom! - William Faulkner, publ. 1936

Saturday, July 4, 2009

GANC: Absalom, Absalom!

Absalom, Absalom! is not the great American novel. Or, if it is, it is a great American novel for someone who has time in the day to read for an hour or more at a time. Because that is the only way I was able comprehend this book - grab a glass of iced tea, hunker down and read. This is not to say the story of William Faulkner's book is uninteresting, because I find it quite intriguing. The events of the book surround the rise and fall of a Southern plantation owner Thomas Sutpen before, during and after the Civil War. There is love, murder, betrayal, all the things that can make a story excellent.

However, Faulkner's writing style for me was extremely hard to get past. His sentences and paragraphs can ramble and weave on for pages with no end in sight and he changes speakers with no warning or indication. Suddenly an aunt becomes someone's sister and I was left wondering if I had been placing the wrong character with the pronouns. The first chapter where I felt I had a grasp on what was going on was chapter 5, wherein Quentin, a young man learning of his family's history, listens to Rosa detailing an assortment of tragedies that befell the Sutpen family after Thomas Sutpen's son Henry kills his sister Judith's fiancee. This fiancee, we learn, was the Elder Sutpen's bastard child and thus, Judith's half brother. But he was not killed for that; he was killed because Henry found out he had a mistress/wife in New Orleans. Confused yet? So was I.

Why did I select this novel? I knew Faulkner to be an author often employed on the "Great Novels of the 20th century/American literature/Southern writers" lists. I had not read anything by him save an excerpt here and there in college. I chose this particular novel because it was a slice of time in American history where one order, Southern slave holding plantation owners, was ending and another order, Northern industrialists, was beginning. To me, a great American novel has to include a piece about man against nature or a corporation - some sort of formidable foe that takes courage, gumption and will to topple. What better than a man who walks into town with nothing save wild slaves and makes an empire from a swampland? This had all the hopes, the pieces of the puzzle, but for me was done in with the writing style.

It is that very writing style, though, that I feel has most greatly influenced American literature and culture. Faulkner was considered by many one of the leaders of the modernist movement. This stream of consciousness writing he started in the early 1900s has now become an established way of expressing oneself. Rambling rock songs, slam poetry, indie and not-so-indie movies, the 60s - all boast some form of stream of consciousness use that began with Faulkner and his contemporaries. Perhaps Faulkner is like Shakespeare's writing in a way - hard to crack, but a wealth of rich history, mood and meaning once the reader breaks the barrier.

Friday, June 26, 2009

What's a Great American Novel?

Before endeavoring on the Great American Novel Challenge (GANC), I thought it a wise idea to contemplate what I feel contributes to making a novel a great American one. Some of these concepts I drew from American novels I have read and things I feel typify an American ideal. Not all the novels will meet these criteria, and I believe that is the point, and American in its own way.

1. The novel is set in the United States, areas that will eventually become the United States, or if abroad have its main characters be American.

2. The novel is patriotic. No, I am not talking waving the red, white and blue and such. Maybe a better term would be pro-American. I have read a book or two by American authors who shun their roots and cast America in a bad light. While I do not expect the places and characters of the books I read to be put on a pedestal as an American archetype to live up to, a great American novel should not bash the U.S. or be harsh to it.

3. Some set of characters in each novel should have an independent, can-do attitude. I feel this is one of the great American stereotypes that we tend to be happy to live up to. And usually to accomplish this can-do plan...

4. Theme of man against a force larger than self. To be independent means to not rely on something other people do - the city, the boss, inheritance, etc. And sometimes people must fight to be rid of that dependence. Fight against, nature, expectations, culture, industry. Tame something, if you will.

5. In that fighting against a force (not the Force, mind you), one must explore...something. It could be the vast plains of the West, an Indian tribe as new settlers, a new idea or way of living, or maybe a internal exploration of self.

6. Maybe it is the Texan in me, but I think a great American novel should have some essence of grandiosity and vastness. Whether it is a big sky, a big tract of land or a big hope and aim, at some point I want awe.

7. The culture of the book, whatever it is, wherever its set, has to be true and rich and deep. The author should write beyond the stereotype, whether to disprove it or to display why it exists and if it should be lauded. Surely not all Texans ride horses and not all New England Italians are in the mafia.

8. True to life. Harry Potter may be a good book, but I doubt Great Britain is like Hogwarts. The events and people have to something I could reasonably imagine in the time and place they find themselves in the story.

9. However, part of America is its tall tales - Paul Bunyan, John Henry, and Johnny Appleseed - so maybe a stretcher or two is okay. People like Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone were people whose fame stretched beyond reality, but in a way that only heightened the "American-ness" of them. Purposeful fantasy, if you will.

All of these qualities may not exist in every novel I read, but I certainly hope that a majority of them are present in some sense. I know that in reading these thirteen books, my opinion of what makes a great American novel will change, and I anticipate the revelations, both from my own reading and the reviews of the other GANC participants. It should be an exciting and exploratory thirteen months.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Bye-bye, Apple II

Hello Raleigh friends! This post is just for y'all. Last night on TV I saw something that I have long awaited - a electronics recycling day! I have housed some outdated electronics in my apartment for some time now, trying in vain to find an electronics recycling service in or around Raleigh. And then, last night as I am watching TV, I learn that Fox 50 is sponsoring E-cycling Day this Saturday, June 27. You can go to one of three Best Buy locations around the Triangle and drop of your old or broken electronics. And you do not even have to get out of your car - how sweet it that?

Just remember that if you are doing away with a CPU or anything that contains data (phone numbers, social security numbers, bomb codes, your grandma's cherry pie recipe), to erase it off the system. And not put it in the electronic trash bin on your computer - wipe your CPU clean. I do not have the name handy of the one(s) Aaron recommended to me, so if you are reading this, Aaron (hi!), could you post the links in the comments section? Thanks!

If you have some mice, radios, monitors, TVs, cell phones or medical equipment around your place, drop them off Saturday between 10-2 at one of the indicated Best Buys. See link for full list of acceptable items.

(If you do not get my post title, maybe this will help.)

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Saturday Summer Supper

Sometimes, a gal just needs to eat a man meal, you know? This is the closest I have come to recreating one of my family's typical summer dinners since I left. All it lacks is some marinated cucumber salad and lemon ice cream.


The steak is a flat iron with my new favorite Alton Brown marinade on it. I got this recipe from AB's I'm Just Here for the Food: Version 2.0. Here is the recipe, Rhapsody for Red (Meat):

4 Tbsp soy sauce
4 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce
2 Tbsp red wine vinegar
2 Tbsp teriyaki sauce
2 Tbsp lemon juice
2 cloves garlic, left whole but lightly crushed
1 Tbsp Dijon mustard
1 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
Target cut of meat

Mix all the ingredients together minus the meat. Put meat and marinade in plastic bag, squeeze out all the air. Place in the fridge and let it sit for 2-8 hours until ready to cook.

I have used flank and flat iron steaks, but AB says he likes it on just about any form of red meat. He also says this marinade is good to use before any cooking method. I pan grilled mine - about 4 minutes on each side over medium heat. The marinade makes enough for about 2 pounds of meat, so change the recipe to your proportion. Really good steaks.

The beans are my taste of home. I feel like my mom made these baked beans about once a month during the summer and, come Sunday leftover dinner, it was a scramble to see who would get the last of the beans. They are all mine this time!

4 1 lb cans of pork and beans or near equivalent
1 bottle ketchup (14 oz)
1 bell pepper, chopped (my mom does not use this)
2 small onions, chopped
6 Tbsp brown sugar
4 Tbsp molasses
Worcestershire sauce, to taste
Bacon

Mix all together. Place in a 9x13 casserole dish or pan. Top with bacon (strips or cut into pieces and arrange over top of the dish).
Bake at 300 for 2 hours, uncovered.

Perfect Saturday in June dinner. Fill a tall glass with some iced sun tea, and you are good to go.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

B(ad) Movies

We have all experienced the disappointment. You rent a movie that a friend of a friend recommended or showed up on a list a favorite blogger of yours produced. You excitedly pop the popcorn, create your movie-watching habitat and press play. Slow going at first, but you figure it will pick up. Around the 30-minute mark you begin stealing glances at the run time to see how much you have left to sit through. At about 50 minutes, you begin wondering whether your time and already spent money would be better used watching the rest of this disaster or re-alphabetizing your books. You just fell for the bad movie.

While I have no answers on how to avoid the bad movie situation, I do have an excellent resource for so-bad-they're-good B movies. AMC recently started a website called BMC where you can watch free B movies online. Classics such as What a Carve Up, A Swingin' Summer, The Crawling Eye, and Saga of the Viking Woman - all can be found at BMC. They may have been the type of movie that I initially described, but by now they certainly fit into the latter category.

Friday, May 29, 2009

Song in my Head

Some days, you get a song in your head and it haunts you all day, taunting you with how horrible and yet catchy it is. And some days, the song stuck in your head puts a spring in your step and a smile on your face. Today's "stuck in my head" song is most definitely the latter. And, being Friday, I thought we could all use a little spring in our steps*. Without further ado...



* I am not responsible for any adverse reaction you have to the above song. And, if you do have an adverse reaction to the song - what is wrong with you? It's Muppets!

Thursday, May 28, 2009

The Great American Novel Challenge

I am so excited I can barely contain myself! Aaron just posted what is bound to be a superb exploration of American writings. The Great American Novel Challenge, to sum up, is a 13-month challenge beginning July 4, 2009 to read, write about, and discuss 13 different novels that you feel should be in the running for the moniker "the great American novel." (Why thirteen? Thirteen original colonies!)

Now, before your mind fills with visions of rereading Huckleberry Finn or To Kill a Mockingbird, there is a catch. A few actually (which are explained in detail in Aaron's post). First, you cannot pick books you have already read. Second, you can only pick one book per author. Third, only two books at most from any one decade. There are ten other guidelines to this challenge, and before you think these rules eliminate all American novels, think of authors you want to read more of, books all those "best of" lists tell you that you should have read, and think of all those books in high school and college you "read" but did not actually open. If you think Danielle Steel is the epitome of the American novelist, go for it. If you have been looking at Ernest Hemingway's novels with trepidation and need a little push to dive in - here is your push.

So, are you up for the challenge? Check out Aaron's post and let him know you are up for it, and then grab a book from your local library and start reading!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

The Omnivore's Dilemma

The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan is a fantastic book. If you are at all interested in industrial foods vs. "organic" foods vs. local food debate, read this book. And if you are not interested in those things, but care about what you are putting in your body, read this book. I have learned so much about how food gets from pasture to my plate, and not in a hidden camera at the slaughterhouse sort of way. The premise of this book is that we, as humans, are omnivores and, as such, are faced with the daily question of "What do I eat?" Pollan explores in four meals what we eat, beyond the simple designations of produce and protein. He looks at industrial food, industrial organic food, locally grown food and food he found, killed and/or harvested himself.

In his first meal, Pollan looks at where a McDonald's meal comes from. This section on industrial food was the most laborious for me, since most of it centered around the history and science of corn. Pollan decided to focus on corn as it is fed to a great percentage of our nation's cattle, chickens, pigs, and, yes, fish. In the case of cattle and fish, the animals have been bred in such a way as to make the corn, which has also been altered for edibility, more palatable for them, being that corn is not on the list of their natural go-to foods. Why corn? It fattens the animals quickly so they can be processed quickly. Because of this changed diet as well as being kept in filthy pens prior to processing, these cows are prone to diseases that can get into the processed meats through their hide, manure and organs.

However, the influence of corn in our diet goes well beyond it feeding our cows, pigs and chickens. High fructose corn syrup, corn starch and xanthan gum are just a few of the many products derived from corn. Look at any box of food and you will probably find two or three ingredients from corn. What does all of this industrial corn eating mean for the American public? We do not know yet. We must realize that when we drink a bottle of soda or have a popsicle, we are not just having something sweet, we are eating fertilizers, pesticides and petroleum. Pollan notes that one bushel of industrial harvested corn uses about one third a barrel of oil to grow and process.

As a culmination of his industrial food research, Pollan took his wife and son to eat at McDonald's. In evaluating their meal, combined they ate over 3000 calories. Of the 30 or so ingredients in his son's chicken nuggets, 14 of them were corn based (Pollan includes chicken in that list as it ate corn). Pollan fears that, much like the koalas who only eat eucalyptus, Americans are becoming people who can only absorb corn. What happens if we become so reliant on one product and then, one year, the product, corn in this case, is hit by disease or fire in such a large percentage that the foods we have come to depend on, frozen dinners, fast food and the like, are taken from us?

In his second meal, Pollan looks at where his Whole Foods meal came from. He walks through the history of the organic food movement, from local co-op in the '70s to the industrial machine today. It is here that he uncovered several misnomers regarding organic food. For instance, free range chickens aren't as free range as the title suggests. Free range, according to the USDA, mean "access to pasture." Put that meaning into action and you have a football field sized building filled with chicken with a few small openings along the edges where chickens, should they please, venture outside. Should the chickens decide, en masse, to all go outside for a stroll, the grassy area would not be large enough to hold them. In the time Pollan spent at an organic chicken farm, no chickens stepped out of doors.

A large problem Pollan sees with industrial food is the amount of fuel it costs to sustain the market. One of the ingredients in his meal, asparagus, was from Argentina. This meant his asparagus was put on a 747, flew to California, driven to a Whole Foods hub, driven from there to his Whole Foods in Berkley, where he then drove it home to eat. And it was not even that great. Another issue he sees in industrial organics is they are no longer helping the local economy and farmers as they once did. Organic lettuce farms in California are just as large as the industrial ones, using migrant workers and fuel-fed tractors for processing. One of the companies he looked at still brought some of their produce to the local farmers' market to sell, but admitted they did not feel they belonged there anymore, that it was not fair to the small farmer in the booth next to them.

Now comes my favorite part of the book, local organic. For this meal, Pollan cooked a chicken, made chocolate souffle, and had a salad, all locally found (except the chocolate). But he had to first work for his chicken and eggs. Pollan spent a week with Joel Salitan at Polyface Farms, a farm in Virginia that supplies beef, pork, chicken, eggs, turkey and rabbit to neighbors, restaurants, farmers markets and metropolitan clubs. Joel boasts that he is a grass farmer, as the success of his animals is dependent on the grass. The cyclical process goes something like this: cows eat the grass, a few days later chicken come and eat the grubs in the manure (reducing flies and bacteria), the chickens poop which is rich in nitrogen fuels the grass to grow, and so it repeats. Through the rotation of these animals through the grasses, Salitan is able to avoid pesticides and all other industrial products. It also allows for more animals on smaller pieces of land, meaning more bang for your acreaged buck.

One of the points Pollan reiterated was that part of America's problem with food may have something to do with the fact that we have no national cuisine. We have no distinct food identity, so we are constantly looking to attach ourselves to one or another - fast food, low carb, vegetarian, locavore, microwaveable, etc. The issue here goes beyond identity. Pollan notes that other culture's food traditions, such as the Japanese, have a natural balance of food and nutrition. Ever wonder why wasabi is served with sushi? It is an anti-microbial agent that kills whatever may be remaining on that raw fish. Why soy sauce on rice? The way the soy sauce is made and marries with the rice yields a balanced meal. Americans, as a whole, lack that balance in their meals and how they view what they eat. We go for what is fast, has attractive packaging and what is "in."

For his final meal, Pollan, hunted, gathered and grew his own meal. He harvested wild chanterelles and morels, killed a feral pig, and grew his own fruits and veggies. This part of the book seemed more self-indulgent on Pollan's part, but made me wonder just how many mushrooms Aaron and I may have passed by in our wilderness ramblings. And, of course, it re-energized the longing to have my own herb garden, which I may stop thinking about and do this summer.

My takeaways from this, practically speaking:

- Buy produce from the farmers market, organic if possible.

- Eat seasonally. If there is a peach in the supermarket in December, something is wrong. And this goes for meat too, although I am a little more sketchy on when which meat's season is.

- Research Community Supports Agriculture (CSAs), to join next produce season.

- Sign up for this chicken CSA and seek out a beef one. If you are in my neck of the woods and want to get in on this, please let me know - chicken in bulk never looked so tasty!

- Have people over to share a meal with on a more regular basis. Being away from home, I miss the family dinner atmosphere and, as much as I like House, he just does not make for a genial dinner guest.

Some links for further exploration:

Pollan's Twelve Commandments of Eating

Pollan Lectures at Google - This is a perfectly concise synopsis of Pollan's books, I believe.

Eat Wild - A website where you can find what farms sell grass-fed meat near you.

Local Harvest - A website that directs you to CSAs in your area.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

*Sniff sniff* Here, you taste it

Ah yes, the go-to method for seeing if a food item is still edible or not - the sniff and have someone else taste test. I should have employed this method several times over my life; somehow I was the one to load up my nachos with the rancid sour cream. But now I can give my nose a break (and friends' taste buds) and let my fingers perform their own fresh test. StillTasty will tell you if produce, meats, spices, oils, baked goods, beverages and more are still good or not. And, from my brief foray into it, it appears fairly comprehensive. It let me know when the hummus needs to make a date with the garbage, how long coriander seeds last (3-4 years, which is great since I have bunches). It even told me how long marshmallows stay fresh after being opened, about 1 month.

This is great for that spring cleaning itch I have gotten of late. Apparently I need to throw out my baking powder, as it has passed the 6 months of freshness for sure. Granted, I probably should have known that based solely on the clumped appearance of the powder. Ooh, and I should throw my wheat flour in the freezer asap and hold onto it for another year or so. Contrary to urban legend, Twinkies (or snack cakes in cellophane wrapper - unopened) will not last 50 years. They will last 1-2 months in the pantry, or 4-6 months in the freezer. Frozen Twinkies, very interesting...

Everyone get your permanent markers out and start writing the date you opened that package of crackers or bottle of BBQ sauce!

Friday, April 17, 2009

The Devil in the White City

The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson is one of the most eloquently written nonfiction books I have ever read (or listened to, as it is one of my drive time audio reads). His descriptions at times veer closer to poetry than prose. Phrases along the lines of "the gloomy hall was slowly cast in light from the gas lamps that made the sounds of a hissing cat" or "his words were like morning glories that rambled and weaved in and out of fence posts." At times, I forgot this was a history I was listening to and not a dramatic novel.

The Devil in the White City follows the tale of two men whose fame was attained in the events surrounding the Chicago World's Fair, also called the Columbia Expedition. Daniel H. Burnham was a Chicago architect who was charged with designing and erecting the whole of the World's Fair, a position that would either thrust him to the top of American architecture or sink him to the depths of embarrassment. The other man, H. H. Holmes, arrived in Chicago with plans darker. Through devious means, he purchased a drugstore, and then the land across the street from it, where he built a 3-story, block long building that he employed as a hotel during the Fair. During its construction, he changed contractors so often only a handful of people knew the true intent of this structure - gas lines leading to air locked rooms, an approximately human-length kiln in the basement, vats of acids, dissection tables, airtight closet-sized safes.

Larson weaves the lives of these two men, among others, into a rich tapestry of Chicago at the turn of the century. Burnham toiled to create the White City, one that would outshine the Exposition Universelle in Paris a few years earlier and prove to New York City that Chicago was not some slaughterhouse city, but had refinement and beauty equal to New York City. He enlisted the support of many architects to create the Court of Honor, a series of buildings built in the neoclassical fashion, that would come to be known as the White City. For the landscaping, he procured Frederick Law Olmstead, the landscape designer of Central Park in New York, Biltmore Estate in Asheville, and the grounds of the U.S. Capitol building, among others. Through sandy soil, fires, wind, ice and egos, these men (and one woman who designed the Women's Building), created a park that inspired the imaginations of Frank L. Baum, writer of The Wizard of Oz, and Walt Disney, whose father had been a construction worker on some of the buildings at the fair, and the invention of such things as the Ferris Wheel, Crackerjacks, Shredded Wheat and others.

During the construction of the fair, Holmes was creating a monument of his own design. Over a period of three years, Holmes selected victims from among his employees and then guests who, within weeks to months, mysteriously disappeared - gone to see relatives, was often Holmes response to inquiries. Holmes often made sure that before these friends and guests had their extended leaves of absence, that they take out a life insurance policy, noting him as the beneficiary. However, despite all this money Holmes had from both his legal and illegal income, he rarely paid any debts he owed - much of his hotel was built without paying the workers. Extremely charming, he was able to smooth his way out of most payments. However, after the World's Fair closed, creditors grew and he fled to Texas, and then other states, leaving debt and bodies in his wake. With one of his associates, Benjamin Pitezel, Holmes devised a scheme where Pitezel would fake his own death, and Holmes and Mrs. Pitezel would split the insurance money. However, Holmes murdered Pitezel and then manipulated Mrs. Pitezel to allow three of her five children to remain in the custody of Holmes. Hopscotching from city to city, Holmes eventually murdered these three children. Thankfully he was arrested for loan evasion, and soon detectives discovered the more grisly nature of this man.

One of the things I at first found most irritating about this book is how Larson would hint at something, but never tell the reader outright what that thing was. It was left to the imagination. Over the days of reading, however, I grew to enjoy and respect it. In many ways, he wrote as perhaps a newspaper would at the turn of the 20th century - too genteel to lay out the gory facts, but descriptive enough for an acute reader to infer the greater meaning. I think this enhanced the tale in many ways as I had to create a scene of a murder or construction error on my own. In a way, the history became my story to tell as much as it is Larson's.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Abuelita Chocolate

I cannot recall how I first heard of Nestle Abuelita...probably a family member. In any case, my mom bought a box of Abuelita several years ago and there is sat (probably still sits) on the pantry shelf, unused, pushed aside like a can of beets. Worse than that, actually, as my mom finds special enjoyment in seeing us cringe at the dinner table while we try to swallow the beets without letting the revolting taste touch our refined and sensitive tastebuds.

For those of you who do not know what Abuelita is, allow me to explain. Abuelita, to put it simply, is Mexican chocolate. To be more descriptive, this chocolate has the added flavors of cinnamon and vanilla. Intrigued? So was I. Cut to...

Two months ago I was shopping at my local Walmart where the world's cultures come and mix together in a jumbled mass of shopping carts, elderly, and lost children. I was minding my own business and there it was - Abuelita. It was by itself, clearly a reject from some one's shopping list, and I decided I would take it home with me and hopefully have a better use rate than my mom.

Some number of days later, I had the urge to create. Normally this urge results in a messy kitchen and 2 dozen cookies I "forget" to bring to the office and share. But this night, I remembered I had Abuelita. So, I followed the directions and made my first cup of Abuelita hot chocolate.

You know how some hot chocolate you drink tastes sweet...and that is about all? This is not that hot chocolate. It is rich and warm, the cinnamon giving this spicy undertone to the not-too-sweet chocolate. It was a cup of warmth that immediately relaxed me, like that first exhalation of breath after a long work week - the one where the first pieces of stress begin to slough off. In other words, really really tasty.

So mom, if you are reading this, stop buying beets and start using your Abuelita!

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Quartet of Culture

I now present to you a daily dose of culture, perfect for a Wednesday afternoon pick-me-up: a classical classic Sesame Street.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

An Open Invitation

KFC, you are welcome to make a visit to Raleigh and advertise on our streets in such a manner. May I suggest Falls of Neuse Road or Lake Dam Trail? It looks like small bombs exploded along the roadway.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Into Thin Air

Into Thin Air is one of the best non-fiction books I have read. Written by Jon Krakauer about his personal involvement in the ill-fated Everest summit of May 1996, he delves into the history of the mountain, the lineage of those who have attempted and at time succeeded in climbing it, and the inherent dangers associated with such extreme adventure.

Krakauer was invited by Outside magazine as a writer and climber to join Rob Hall's team on a summit to Everest and return to write about the increasing commercialization of Everest climbs and how anyone with a proper guide can make it to the top. What he experienced there went far beyond commercialization and the differences between experienced and inexperienced climbers. Out of a series of small to large errors and misjudgements, five people from his twelve person team died around Everest's peak, including the expedition leader Hall.

This account is riveting because Krakauer does not, will not remove himself from the situation or the emotions he felt at the time, and even now. He confesses how his actions on May 10 indirectly led to the deaths of some on that mountain. He, however, also points out how summit teams and people, including his own, placed getting to the top over potentially saving lives. Walking by people stopped in the snow, resting at camp for their summit push the following day rather than search for the lost climbers, putting their own fame for topping the world over the survival of others and themselves.

My suggestion would be to start this book on a Friday, because you will not want to put it down until you have finished it. It is gripping, devastating, and a harsh tale. It is at times difficult to read because you know what is about to happen. As the tangled web of how people were lost, found, lived and died plays out, the humanity, bravery and brokenness of people is clearly exhibited. Phenomenal, gripping read.

Monday, March 23, 2009

The Innocent Man

My new (temporary?) position in a town about a 30 minute drive south of where I live has resulted in an obviously longer commute. Sadly, Raleigh is lacking any morning radio I would be willing to listen to on a daily basis outside of NPR. So, I needed an alternative listen. I began with a study series my parents gave me for Christmas a couple years back called Rethinking Womanhood, a women's study my former church provided. Great study. I had the 2003-04 audio set, led by the senior pastor's wife and my former pastor/boss's wife. I will have to revisit those CDs regularly - so much great insight on the Bible, Biblical womanhood, and life lessons.

I finished that set off pretty quick and needed a new drive time listen. Enter the audio book. While The Innocent Man was not my first choice - did not even make my list! - I am pleased at my choice. This is John Grisham's first non-fiction novel, and, as he mentions in the author's notes, he could not have ever dreamed this story up for a novel.

The book centers on the murder of a young woman in the small town of Ada, Oklahoma in the early 1980s and the trial of conviction of two men. From the moment the police came on the crime scene, things were botched. The police already had their eyes on two men, Ron Williamson and Dennis Fritz, for the murder, even though no one could testify that they had seen either of them the previous night, with the victim or not. In fact, the only person who did say he (Glen Gore) said these two men the night of the murder was the very man who everyone else had last seen with the victim. Unfortunately, the police did not even take Gore's fingerprints for examination until months after the murder.

It took several years for the arrest of Williamson and Fritz to be made and, in the trial, many of the prosecution's witnesses were jailhouses snitches who told any lie the police wanted to get a reduced sentence. In addition, the police urged forensic specialists to reconsider some of the hair and print evidence in light of Williamson's arrest and the specialists' opinions changed to reflect the accused being at the scene. It seemed with every new sentence read, there was a new travesty to be spoken of. From a blind attorney with no one to explain the visual evidence against his client to a juror who was the former head of police to the mental instability of Williamson never being brought up in court (he was a paranoid schizophrenic who never got consistent or proper medication from the police or mental institutions).

Williamson was convicted of murder and sentenced to death. His time in prison further damaged his sanity and he resided in deplorable conditions. His sisters tried to send as much money as they could so Williamson could buy food, but it was never enough for him, it seemed. Eventually, Williamson's case was reviewed, as is mandatory for all death row cases, and the lawyer in charge of the case was fully convinced of his innocence. After many years, Williamson, along with Fritz, were proven innocent and Gore was later found guilty of the murder.

After his release, Williamson would go on and off his medication, as well as alcohol and drugs. Earlier this decade, he died because of the amount and types of medication he was given as well as alcohol and drug usage. Fritz is living outside of Oklahoma now and has a granddaughter. Other people from the case and trial are still in Ada. The DA who prosecuted Williamson and Fritz, as well as another pair of innocent men, is still in office.

This book exemplifies how disastrously wrong a case can go when there is unchecked abuse of police power, a focus so narrowed that other suspects are not even considered, a lack of resources (money and experts) for the defense, use of questionable evidence and witnesses to amaze the jury, and not recognizing and humanely dealing with Williamson's mental illness.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Farmer's Market Plethora

The Farmer's Market in Raleigh has what I refer to as a bulk produce section. It is equivalent of a Costco or Sam's Club for produce. Would you care for 60 tomatoes? Then Farmer's Market bulk is the place for you. However, 60 tomatoes are not a wise investment for the single person, or most married couples with fewer than 8 kids, I imagine. All that changed, though, when one of the gals from church suggested a few of us go in on the bulk items together and parcel them out. Save a little here and there.

Correction: Save a lot all over the place. We have only had one bulk food adventure and apples, green beans, broccoli and Roma tomatoes were purchased. I only got the broccoli and tomatoes, but all of them looked great. I left the rendezvous point with about 6 bunches (two stalks each) of broccoli and about 12 Roma tomatoes. My rough guess is that had these been bought at the store, I would have paid $10-15 for the amount. I left paying only $6.50! And now I have vegetables I can eat for a whole month.

The question soon arises - what do I do with all this produce? A lot of the green bean getters had so many beans they soon were making impromptu friends with neighbors and anyone willing to take a handful or two. I have been enjoying tomatoes on my sandwiches, especially BSTs (I use spinach instead of lettuce, hence BST). I stuffed some of my broccoli in scraped out tomatoes and cooked them in the over for a bit with some Parmesan and buttered bread crumbs - tasty! I may make some tomato sauce to pour over my pasta with broccoli florets. And broccoli is one of my post-work, pre-dinner munchies now.

Only two or three weeks until another Farmer's Market bulk day. Yay!

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

The Move, One Year Later

One year. That is how long I have been in Raleigh. Strange to think what has changed since I left Austin. It has been a great year. I have had lots of fun exploring a new city (which I need to do tons more of - museums, downtown, little events in parks, etc), overcome my fear of tall swaying trees, seen two different snow events that closed the local world down, basked in the glory of the Farmer's Market, and found a new family at my church.

However, not all things are created equal, and so for those of you unfamiliar with Raleigh or Austin, here are some comparisons to help you out:

Hardee's, as I see it, is the NC version of Dairy Queen. Not necessarily in food offerings (namely desserts - because how many people eat at DQ for the burgers, really?) but in the sheer abundance of them. Hardee's - the North Carolina stop sign.

As I have mentioned before, there is no replacement or substitution for H-E-B. Not Harris Teeter, Krogers (which are not the dingy places many Texans know them as), or Food Lion. The great prices, wonderful selections, and fabulous store brand products of HEB cannot be beat.

Downtown Raleigh does not equal downtown Austin. I think the Raleigh downtown area is growing, but it is a good 5-10 years behind Austin. Or, both have grown in opposite ways. Raleigh is building a lot of downtown condos I imagine in hopes of luring businesses downtown, whereas Austin has businesses downtown and is now building up its residential footprint. Raleigh downtown is small, but I think that could play to its advantage as everything is within five to ten blocks of one another. This means great foot traffic for retail stores and restaurants.

Nothing equals Chuy's or Kerbey Lane. I was reminded of this over Christmas where Jill and I dined at both - great food, even greater friend (Hi Jill!), and that uniquely Austin atmosphere. Can't be duplicated.

Ole Time Barbeque is not Rudy's or Salt Lick...but it is great Carolina 'que. Yes, it is possible for Texas BBQ and Carolina BBQ to peaceable coexist - one is beef and sausage, the other pork, pork and more pork. Two different meats means I can have two different favorites. Ha!

I am still looking for my regional replacement to Blue Bell, which is nonexistent outside of Outback Steakhouses here. I saw Blue Bell here once, but never since. I have heard rumor of an out-of-the-way farm that makes its own ice cream, but nothing confirmed yet.

Farmer's Market in Raleigh beats Farmer's Market in Austin...but that may only be because I never went to the Austin market. I will have a hopeful near future post about the ever increasing awesomeness of the Raleigh Farmer's Market. I am still loving my honey and preserves I procured the last time I visited. Perfect compliments to peanut butter.

Outside Austin and outside Raleigh? Both gorgeous and equally fun, but a slight edge goes to Raleigh. The great outdoors seem a little closer here - within walking distance in many cases. However, Texas has the bluebonnets and I don't think anything can beat that as far as roadside magnificence goes.

I am sure there are more comparisons I could make, but there is more to my move than just comparisons and contrasts. There are you guys!

To my friends in Austin: Thank you for all the support you have given me in the many months leading up to my decision to move. I greatly appreciate your patience as I played out my own reinterpretation of The Boy who Cried Wolf, entitled "The Girl who Cried Move." I learned so much about friendship, being silly and growing up from y'all. You have blessed my life tremendously and miss you lots. My place is always open to visitors (after I clean/hide the mess), and if you would like to move here instead of just visit, that would be okay too. I have tons of Raleigh apartment research to share, I know of some people that are great movers (I'd say semi-pro at this point) and a nice little church just down the road a bit.

To my new friends in Raleigh: This past year would have been torture without you. You welcomed and embraced me as part of the family from day one and have been a constant source of encouragement to me as I adjusted to the Raleigh life. Serving alongside you and bonding together as a community has shown me the significance of fellowship and being active in a local church. I look forward to another year of Fletcher Park Sundays, Friday game nights, Sunday morning strength training, and Wednesday discussions.

To my family (mom, dad, Em, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandmothers, 1st cousins once removed, etc.) I miss seeing y'all, especially now that the Japan Greens are back and we have Ben, Wes and Anya around. Thanks for your support, encouragement love, and wise counsel as I ventured off to lands unknown. I am sure ya'll were just as nervous about it as I was. I made it through and now, one year later, my apartment is almost presentable enough for y'all to use as a landing pad for whatever East Coast jaunts Ginny persuades you into - Amish furniture pick-up, Southern Belle mansions tour, or antique shopping in towns with populations of 5,000 or less. Love you all!

And Aaron: Well, we made it through (almost) one whole year of living in the same town as one another - no one died or was maimed in any lasting way (except for your fingernail, which you will not have when you are 40 - sorry). Thank you for dinner and a movie, exploring off beaten trails, fixing things and solving problems, letting me know you are close even when school takes your time, and sharing in my adventures, small and large, in Raleigh. More adventures this year, mkay?