Poetry Tuesday: Mommy Complex

[Mother's Finger - Blueberry Flavor. Thanks, Paul!]

Maternal/Infernal--Digital/Edible

Mother, your finger, your
Blueberry finger points,
A long, white packing peanut
Sweet and purple side to you
A blander melting white rice-ness:
Blank slate Cheeto.

Mother, I do not know you
I cannot hold your hand.
Your fingers broke off like lizards' tails
As I tried to keep the clasp.
Your useless gestures are rolling
Around in my mouth.

Mother, you are removed,
The bright fruit of you is fleeting,
The sigh and styrofoam remains.
I absorbed your indexes, have finely hidden
Any knowing I could do.
To chew is not to capture.

These
Blueberry fingers of Mother are
My own. I have eaten them
All.

Poetry Tuesday: They're only words.

(I made this pretend-it's-a-poem by linking together search terms people typed in before landing on Snackreligious.)


All We Want To Know About

Chex Mix with toffee, pie crust snack,
Where does Cheese it, it's the cops come from?
Tongue hurts from candy (7th recipe) Stauffer
chocolatey star, Stauffer chocolatey star.

Drunking and drifing,
My five senses,
Poems about the seafood - Asian hotdog,
Ready salted chipsticks. Sarah Vaughan.

Sara Moulton poetry, soundtrack snack,
How to pronounce spoon in Bulgarian.
Can parrots eat vanilla pudding? Chocolate covered graham,
Minion of Gozer,
Gozer
Zuul

Adjective essay my favorite chocolate Kit Kat
-- Snack religious.
-- Snackreligious.
Cheez Its poems, Jenny snack blog,
Snackreligious. Snackreligious.


[...to be continued]


p.s. Kids! Please do not drunk and drife!

Poetry Tuesday: On Seafood

Tonight, Steph and I made fudge. But some less-than-perfect shrimp cakes were mentioned during our conversation. Which reminded me of this poem, written when I was seventeen:


donations donations
for lonesome crustaceans
the old lady cried
with her fists at her side
can the rich be so hateful
to eat clams by the plateful
and deny them their decency, seaweed, and pride?

a dollar a penny
it doesn't take many
the toothless old hag
rummaged deep in her bag
just sign this petition
against seafood and fishin'
unless you're a commie out burnin' our flag!

Icy blast from the past

I am craving a snow cone on this Poetry Tuesday. Cherry, preferably. That might be hard to find in December in NYC. So, instead, I am having ice cream for breakfast. It's cold comfort. Tee hee.

Continuing my tradition of admitting to having written weird food-related poetry (even loosely food-related), here's a scorcher for you. I wrote this one (on Halloween, apparently) when I was 14 years old.

1. Snow cone on fire in the dead of night
Sputtering and burning with a white, unholy light
Forms a signal beckoning with language clear and bright
glow cast on my windowpane
offers sincere shelter from the rain

Fallout from the sky is snow
Night scatters ash and Dusk below
My snow cone's light is firm and slow
It preserves a steady flow
on faces wavering unsure of love
light pierces ice bright from above

I sing a silent siren song
calling your unhappy soul
dwell with me and be made whole
bring back what other men once stole

I cannot reach your wasted tears
Etch of patterns rich with fears

2passing time finds still aglow
light beacon on a bless'd tableau
Your upturned face is ringed with light
On a cold and almost sightless night
steal you up into my home
This girl and her snow cone
no longer alone.

Kitchen Tools and Other Dupes

I've been reading a variety of food-related weblogs since starting my own. In general, I've been inspired far more than I've been annoyed. But in agreeing with a recent post on Smitten Kitchen*, I was reminded how much "my husband won't eat ____, so I can't cook ____" posts or comments on food sites have confounded me.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about excluding ingredients because of food allergies or dietary choices like veganism. Also, choosiness is not a big deal when the picky eater prepares his or her own food and doesn't enforce his/her rules on others. I don't think people should be forced to eat food they don't like (though it might "build character," or stretch the palate if done judiciously).

I do think it's too bad when a cook or eater is limited by his/her partner's palate, especially when there are statements being made that I feel give evidence of a certain level of arbitrariness, silliness and exaggeration on the picky eater's part (such as, "He doesn't like vegetables" or "He won't eat anything green").

I will admit that I have a fairly low tolerance for irrationally (yeah, that's a subjective word) picky eaters in general (it slows everybody down; why enable it?) and I would not be able to suffer the fool gladly if my husband fell into that category. But I also don't like the sexism lurking behind the assumption that a woman should only cook what her partner likes to eat.

I see sexism here because, so far, I have only witnessed these "I can't cook x because my significant other won't eat it" comments being made by women about their husbands or boyfriends. I'm sure there are exceptions out there and examples of men cooking for picky women or LGBTQ?UI2APO couples/groups in which this is an issue, but I haven't run across any yet - and I expect they're in the minority.

Also, I suspect there are men (and perhaps women) who think it is "macho" for a man to not like vegetables, which is ridiculous, and who might therefore play up what is actually mild distaste for a few specific vegetables prepared specific ways - or a general preference for meat dishes - in order to seem more stereotypically manly.

I'm also interested in the history and reality of the sociocultural role of "woman in the kitchen," but I'll set that aside for now, before this post gets even more complex and semi-colon-y, saying only that I do think that "Who Cooks for Whom - and When, and What and Who Cleans Up?" ought to be a topic of conversation in every new partnership - and should never be automatically decided based on biology or gender.

Whew. Hold on. Nobody who likes to cook or eat needs to step out of the kitchen at this point. But I played around with making some rules and will consider myself free to adjust them as needed - in the interest of equity. I know; life isn't fair. My mom always said so. But here are some of my personal Fair Kitchen Rules (subtitled: Don't be a Tool):

1. As long as there are at least two capable adults/children over twelve eating and living in my house (including me), I do not desire to be and therefore will not be the only person who prepares meals.

2. With a few birthday-type exceptions, I am not going to make an entire meal or main dish I don't like if the person who does like it could make it for him or herself.

3. I will not make a habit of not preparing foods that I want to eat because my spouse has a stubborn aversion to an ingredient or the idea of an entire food group (vegetables, fruit, etc.). I will sometimes be willing to modify recipes I want to try within reason and keeping in mind my own taste.

4a. If the sight or smell of a dish or ingredient [example: hard boiled eggs] being prepared legitimately, physically grosses someone in my household out I will try to make it only when that person is out of the house - unless it can't be avoided for some social/medical/emotional reason, in which case I will at least try to warn him/her in advance that I'm about to work with [hardboiled eggs (or whatever)] in his/her vicinity.

4b.If the "grossing out" is found to be accompanied by uncontrollable vomiting, I will make the item in question only when that prone-to-reverse-peristalsis person is out of the house long enough for me to create the food, consume it entirely, dispose of the evidence, and air out our living space.

5. If another adult or child in my house makes something I have never had that does not appear on my "I'm allergic to or have a moral/ethical aversion to eating that" list and is not inedible, I will try it. Others living or eating with me aren't required to do the same with food I prepare, but I will respect them more if they do.

---

And etc. I live in a situation in which we are both open to sharing the cooking, both like food, and also are both fairly non-picky eaters, so it may be that I am lucky, but I think something halfway equitable can be worked out for any open-minded, reasonable family members (or even set of friendly roommates who share kitchen duties) who care about each other.

It's not really about rules or declarations, either. Here's the gist: I make us things I want to eat some nights. Other nights, he makes us things he wants to eat. Some nights we make things together we both want to eat. Rarely, one of us makes something he/she knows the other person really likes even it isn't a personal favorite. If there's something one of us doesn't like that the other person has made we usually try it anyway. If it is a major problem, the person feeling disgusted or not-that-into-it can just make himself or herself something else. And, of course, there are far too many nights we just go out to eat.


Finally, and I recognize this solution does not help stay-at-home-parents with uncooperative spouses (or work-at-home parents), if no one but me will eat it and there are too many leftovers I'll take it in to work. They'll eat anything there.


-----
Footnote:
* These thoughts came together in semi-coherent format because I agree with the writer of the mentioned Smitten Kitchen post, who said, "I often read comments and emails from people who talk about liking or wanting to make a dish but they can’t “because my significant other doesn’t like [insert ingredient]!” I have to admit, I am often perplexed. If they want to eat it, why don’t they just make it anyway?" Right on.

The Sweet Hundred

Here's a photo of someone sweet decorating something sweet to start us off (taken a few years ago on a field trip to Christopher Norman Chocolates). Yeah, the link is weak, but I like the shot.

Now - remember the Omnivore 100? There have been several permutations since (Vegetarian 100, Vegan 100, British 100, etc.) that didn't interest me all that much (not that I don't like vegetarian or vegan food), but now someone's made a list of foods to try for those of us who enjoy the sweet stuff (it's mostly baked goods, though, not candy or chocolates). See Cakespy for the original Sweet 100 list.

Once again, I ask, "Who remembers every food they've ever tried?" I had to add the category of foods that sound really familiar and which I probably have eaten. I've also adapted the instructions given so that instead of bolding or changing the text color of things I've eaten (which never looks right and is hard to read when some things are linked), I just split the items up into their categories. Here are the instructions that I didn't follow, in case you like rules.

1) Copy this list into your site, including the instructions!
2) Bold all of the sweets you've eaten--or make them a different type color.
3) Cross out any of them that you'd never ever eat.

4) Consider anything that is not bold or crossed out your "To Do" List.
5) Optional: Post a comment here linking to your results--or just post a comment letting us know how many you've tried, or what you're going to try next!

I've eaten you (54):
1. Red Velvet Cake
3. Whoopie Pie
4. Apple Pie either topped or baked with sharp cheddar
5. Beignet
6. Baklava
7. Black and white cookie
9. Fried Fruit pie (sometimes called hand pies)
11. Just-fried (still hot) doughnut
12. Scone with clotted cream
13. Betty, Grunt, Slump, Buckle or Pandowdy
14. Halvah
15. Macarons
16. Banana pudding with nilla wafers
17. Bubble tea (with tapioca "pearls")
18. Dixie Cup
19. Rice Krispie treats
21. Blondies
23. Girl Scout cookies
24. Moon cake
25. Candy Apple
27. Brooklyn Egg Cream
30. King Cake
32. Pavlova
34. Trifle
36. Key Lime Pie (made with real key lime)
37. Panna Cotta
38. New York Cheesecake
40. Russian Tea Cake / Mexican Wedding Cake
42. Pizzelle
44. Buckeyes
46. Moon Pie
47. Dutch baby
49. Homemade chocolate chip cookies
50. Pralines
53. Daifuku
54. Green tea cake or cookies
55. Cupcakes from a cupcake shop
56. Crème brûlée
57. Some sort of deep fried fair food (twinkie, candy bar, cupcake)
58. Yellow cake with chocolate frosting
60. Pop Tarts
62. An "upside down" dessert (Pineapple upside down cake or Tarte Tatin)
64. Jell-O from a mold
65. Black forest cake
71. Angel Food Cake
72. Mincemeat pie
76. Pain au chocolat
77. A piece of Gingerbread House
79. Cannoli
82. Petits fours
85. Rugelach
86. Hamenstashen
93. S'mores
99. Animal crackers


I am pretty sure I've eaten you but I am not positive I remember correctly (17):
8. Seven Layer Bar (also known as the Magic Bar or Hello Dolly bars)
26. Baked Alaska
33. Tres Leches Cake
39. Napoleon / mille-fueille
48. Boston Cream Pie
52. Rusks
59. Jelly Roll
66. Mock Apple Pie (Ritz Cracker Pie)
69. Churro
70. Stollen
80. Rainbow cookies
83. Chocolate Souffle
89. Pie or cake made with candy bar flavors (Snickers pie, Reeses pie, etc)
90. Divinity
91. Coke or Cola cake
95. Bananas foster or other flaming dessert
97. Sables


I know I haven't eaten you yet (29):
2. Princess Torte
10. Kringle
20. Alfajores
22. Croquembouche
28. Nanaimo bar
29. Baba au rhum
31. Sachertorte
35. Shoofly Pie
41. Anzac biscuits
43. Kolache
45. Malasadas
51. Gooey butter cake
61. Charlotte Russe
63. Hummingbird Cake
67. Kulfi
68. Linzer torte
73. Concha
74. Opera Cake
75. Sfogliatelle / Lobster tail
78. Cassata
81. Religieuse
84. Bienenstich (Bee Sting Cake)
87. Homemade marshmallows
88. Rigo Janci
92. Gateau Basque
94. Figgy Pudding
96. Joe Froggers
98. Millionaire's Shortbread
100. Basbousa

I could never eat you:
*Funny. Nothing ended up in this category.

Peanut butter and love poem

Welcome! Happy Poetry Tuesday, everrrybody.

Wendy suggested I try one of Jared's classic snack combinations: peanut butter stirred into vanilla yogurt.



I used some more of the fancy Cream-Nut peanut butter mentioned in 2 previous posts. Normally I only keep chunky peanut butter in the house, but I'm glad I had this (relatively) creamy brand on hand, as it seemed to mesh with the yogurt more soothingly than chunky might have.

Notice my giant yogurt tub? I really prefer full-fat-cream-on-top vanilla yogurt, but it's hard to find in single-serving containers. I had to buy the big guy. Yogurt doesn't have to be a diet food, y'all! Demand single-serving full-fat yogurts!



Dear Jared,

Your snack idea is a good one. I like how the richness of the peanut butter tastes in the tangy yogurt. I kind of wonder if a sweeter peanut butter brand would be better, though. The Cream-Nut's honest nuttiness gets a little overpowered by the crazy sweetness of the yogurt. Maybe I should try plain yogurt next time. Also, this took a lot of stirring. I guess I'd need a blender to really get the textures to meld. The snack is a little too much work when I am dealing with a giant yogurt that needs to be decanted into a smaller container before the pb can be added, but that's my problem, not yours. I'm glad Wendy mentioned this combo to me. Keep up the inventive snacking!

Your friend,
Jennette


And now to the poetry. Today's snack reminded me of another poem I wrote when but a tender teenager. I was seventeen and romantic and nerdy, mad for peanut butter and certain boys, and could not stop writing love poems (not much of this description has changed). I suppose I should be too embarrassed to post this, but it's not like I have a poetic reputation to ruin.


I was painting my
fingernails with peanut
butter this afternoon and
the happy music was playing
on the stereo and then
the sun coming in the
window reminded me that
you love me
so we spent an hour
in the park just wrapped
around each other - flesh
sculptures in prickly grass
and you turned 8 cartwheels
and I got tired
and you understood that
i was too small to put the
baby bird back in its nest
and you kissed frustration
off my nose
then you wouldn't let
me lick the yogurt off the
picnic table and we watched
the dog eat a granola bar because
it was spoiled by the lemon
custard* and again the grass
was pricklysharp
but I was sitting on
your shoulders and you
were wearing shoes


photo credit: Matthew Nauser


* I remember that lemon custard granola bar, but not whether it was that flavor on its own or whether we dipped the granola bar in lemon custard yogurt. Either way, disgusting. A terrible idea.

Eating my words

Ah, the pleasure of the found snack. This chipmunk enjoying a bit of granola bar left behind by a messy hiker (I try to resist feeding the beggars, myself) reminds me of the time I found a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup (unopened) in the gutter while I was walking home from school. But now's not the time for that story.

Let's continue Poetry Tuesday with another peek into my (food-related) poetic past!

The backstory:
Before my thirtieth birthday I copied one of Tony's inspired ideas and sent friends an email with the suggestion they bring poems they'd written for me to my birthday celebration (or that they send poems by email, in the case of far-away friends) instead of giving other sorts of gifts. In my email, I included a list of thirty words I'd chosen for potential inclusion in those poems, inviting my friends to use any number of the words but hoping some would take the challenge to use all thirty in one epic work. I got some good pomes that year. I have some pretty great friends.

After I got home from receiving the struggled-over poems at my birthday "party" at a Korean BBQ joint, I thought it only fair that I use those same 30 words to write my own thank-you note poem to those who helped me celebrate. It was pretty hard -- much harder than writing the one I'd written for Tony's birthday. But I persevered.

Sidebar: Because of this site's theme, I will point out that three of my thirty words were potentially food/drink -- cocoa, sheep, and buzz (as in the fictional cola) -- but I was surprised by the additional food references I ended up with in the final thank-you poem.

The words were:
rasp, portent, dwindle, gloaming, buzz
phantom, button, veer, disorient, fog
noise, cocoa, rube, Cerberus, hank (or Hank)
sheep, spade, bundle, low, aluminum
luster, sieve, perforce, ever, France
are, lapse, rather, under, laser

Now comes the poem part.

-------------------------------------

Thirty:

I'm not the first to press the button of this number
and smell: something like portent, burnt toast
a buzz of age, warm cheese (from France?),
the low promise of lapse -- its sour scent of aluminum,
pee after a bundle of asparagus, sad and threatening,
the faded perfume of hands clasped with the past,
and dry with time.

OK, poor me. But, some of that is noise.
I mean, it's not like the world slips into
black and white
or grey or cocoa
or a sepia fog (at 30). I can't hear
that scrape of spade against my grave
just yet.
No laser dot of red pins me between the eyes.

Rather, I dwindle as I grow. The gloaming spreads
bruise purple between cattails on some shore,
a phantom of an edge horizon-deep and -wide.
I slog in mud, sometimes, to veer with sucking sounds
from orient to disorient and have few maps
and want for friends and sunny days.
And I can feel pretty damn sorry for myself.

But sometimes a hell-hound is just a dog
("His name's not Cerberus. It's Hank")
tied up outside the sandwich shop.
It's okay for you to pet him.
He's not guarding a thing.
And some milestones mark a journey to, not from,
or "historic point of interest" pull-out on the road.
And tonight, on my birthday, leaving some warm company so late,
cold-marching toward my sleep,
I walked over a rasp of ice under a scrape of sky,
mostly unwounded,
and thought of all the things that can come in thirty(+)
but are not scary,
like sheep and pastry
and words and friends and years.

Am I the rube who plays at carnivals, believing she could win?
If so, I ever win. My friends,
and here's the sappy part,
you are the clink of ring-toss made,
you are the grains of gold against my sieve.
You are the luster of
my many warming suns in Feb. and Mar.
I love you so, perforce,
because you'll maybe be (it's just a hunch)
my lights of dawn
at thirty one

and then some.

Raising a stylish eater

"I have a thermos bottle with cream of tomato soup," she said.
"And a lobster salad sandwich on thin slices of white bread.
I have celery, carrot sticks, and black olives, and a little cardboard shaker of salt for the celery.
And two plums and a tiny basket of cherries.
And vanilla pudding with chocolate sprinkles and a spoon to eat it with."
"That's a good lunch," said Albert.
"I think it's nice that there are all different kinds of lunches and breakfasts and dinners and snacks.
I think eating is nice."
"So do I," said Frances,
and she made the lobster-salad sandwich, the celery, the carrot sticks, and the olives come out even.

-- from Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoban (pictures by Lillian Hoban).


I found a copy of this classic picture book for way less than a buck at a church basement sale in Cold Spring, NY. I remember reading this (and other Frances books) numerous times when I was a child. Perhaps those multiple readings of the book - terminating with the page quoted above, which I have made my profile quote for the time being (even though it meant displacing Werner Herzog, one of my honorary uncles) - led to my variety-is-the-spice-of-diet eating habits today.

A cautionary tale for picky eaters, Bread and Jam for Frances is also about aspiring to new heights when it comes to menu planning and school lunch eating. I'm sure my love of the book had something to do with my occasionally taking chopsticks or salt and pepper shakers with me to school in my lunch sack. If only I could have found a doily and a tiny vase of violets (two items Frances has on her desk at the end of the book) to complete the staging and styling of my "sack lunches," I'd have been in book-nerd-slash-food-nerd heaven.

Come to think of it, "desktop lunch stylist" doesn't sound like a half bad job title to me.

I'm almost an omnivore

A Very Good Taste came up with a list of 100 food items an omnivore should try. So I've followed the instructions to copy the list, bold items I've tried, and strike out those I would never try. I hate to say "never" to food, but I've kept my current dietary restrictions in mind (I don't eat beef and rarely eat pork), knowing they could change.

I also have an aversion to "novelty meats," animals I would only eat if I were starving (deer, rabbits, squirrel, snake, etc.). That said, I would probably be willing to try my "never" foods just once in the right situation. For example, I would like to be willing to eat just about anything while traveling in another country, so as to not insult a potential host. But I'm sure I'd find there are limits to that.

I had to add a third category and italicize things I might have had. I'm not actually very picky and I've eaten/drunk a lot of things in my life so far, trying things at school and food fairs and off people's plates in foreign restaurants where I wasn't sure what I was eating. I can't remember all the details!!

The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison - I think I had this as a kid.
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros - I must have tried them at least once.
4. Steak tartare - but I do like tuna tartare.
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp - I don't know. probably. Is carp that memorable?
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi - love!
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes - could be I've had this.
19. Steamed pork buns - might have tried someone's pork buns once
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl - I've had chowder and I've had soup in a bowl. No idea if they were ever combined.
33. Salted lassi - was my lassi salted?
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat - I would eat this only in a foreign country.
42. Whole insects - If only I'd gotten the cricket tacos in Mexico. I was full!
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

p.s. Sorry that the links make this list a little hard to read. I should go through and remove them, but I'm not going to do that.

Street Smartie

I will now admit that one of the reasons I liked Smarties (the sweet and tangy USA version, not the chocolate kind known abroad) as a kid was because I thought that they kind of looked like pills and I could pretend I was taking some sort of illicit medicine when I snuck them out of my desk at Hoover Elementary (go hornets!).

Other things in my desk around that same time: a small vial that had once held lemon-scented perfume and could still be used for sniffing (I had not heard of aromatherapy back then, but I love the smell of citrus to this day) and a paperback copy of Black Like Me (I can still smell that lemon perfume whenever I think about this book).


p.s. Valley of the Dolls is too classic to miss.

Fireball: 2 pieces (1 edible)

Taking into account only spell damage, cast time and points in Improved Fireball, the following equation computes the DPS of Fireball. In this equation, d is the amount of Fire spell damage, B is the base Fireball damage, and X is the number of points in Improved Fireball.

(d + B)/(3.5 - 0.1*X)



Unrelated (?): today I found out I need 7 fillings to replace old sealants on my teeth. To be fair, I hadn't been to the dentist in 6 years until recently. I'm two fillings richer so far!

Have your cake

We'll be snacking on birthday cake for a few more days. The carrot cake this year includes both almonds and pecans (toasted), for a supreme nuttiness. The cream cheese "icing" is almost more like a thick glaze. I habitually add the zest of one orange and a bit of juice. I've read discussions online in which people claim carrot cake is inferior to spice cake, dry, not carroty enough or too carroty, but I think this recipe from Cook's Illustrated Magazine solves those problems perfectly. One key seems to be in the use of a food processor to emulsify vegetable oil into your wet mixture before stirring in the dry ingredients and shredded carrots. Don't give up on carrot cake until you've tried this one. Unless you just don't like carrots at all, in which case I can't help you. I really can't help you.

I can understand Dan's desire for carrot cake on his birthday each year. His birthday cake should, after all, be to his specifications. This rule was impressed on me at an early age. When I was a kid (and youth, etc.), everyone in the house who was old enough to choose got to pick her or his birthday cake each year. I remember my dad choosing chocolate pudding cake for his birthday many times. That's a cake that still seems like magic to me, as it creates its own sauce while it bakes. It's two desserts in one! And it's perfectly appropriate for a birthday in an often-chilly month.

I quickly settled into a routine of requesting Mississippi Mud Cake. Some versions of this cake include coffee, but my mom's was fudgy chocolate and marshmallow creme. We lived near the Mississipi for 10 years, so I know that in reality the river mud is neither that tasty nor desirable. I'd rather squish my toes in the cake any day. As an adult, I know that this cake also represents a loving sacrifice on my mother's part, as she did not particularly like marshmallow creme. She must have enjoyed my birthday cakes more when I was younger and hadn't settled on my repetitive choice.



Yum. Chocolate cake. That's still okay with me, too.

The Poet of MHS

Yeah, I remember high school. I went to Prom with a guy who had sprayed his hair green. I wore a silver dress my mom made for me and glitter eyeliner and a paint pen tattoo. We ate Chinese food before the dance, sitting on the hood of his car. He forgot to bring chopsticks.



I liked snacks back then, too. Here's a poem I wrote 14 years ago about the rolls in my high school lunchroom. I had two similar white bread rolls at Fette Sau on Sunday (practically the only thing I like there, as I don't eat much pork - or any beef or lamb - and the sides are lackluster).


ODE TO A TEA ROLL

A nickel buys warm happiness
from the lunch lady in the
smiling hairnet.

A roll wrapped in napkin and
polite dismissal,
her attention turning to the kid
in line behind me.

She knows I am hooked
on floury carbohydrates and
seems securely defined
in her job - I return
every day at noon,
an addict.

A nickel is so small, it floats in my
backpack - honored to be
traded for a
tiny loaf-like sacrifice.

With a dollar, I could buy
20 rolls and gorge myself
all afternoon but she says
no you may only have
three, or four
on a good day.

I know she is just doing her job,.

How kind and caring you are, lunch
lady, rationing pleasure
so it is always a treat,
a privilege,
to be full.

What's the word, nerd?

Sam made something interesting with words from this site.

Check out how much I like to talk about peanut butter.

The spice must flow.

[A version of this post first appeared on Bakespace in October, 2007]

That morning, instead of making biscuits first thing (as I had promised myself) I got sidetracked cleaning out the spice cabinet (really just one shelf of my cabinets) to see if I had celery seed to use to make pickle relish later.*

Unfortunately, I don't have a real spice cabinet, so I can never see all my spices at once. I do have a little shelf that elevates some of them so I can fit more in, but there are still many bottles and bags that are hidden. This being so, I decided to make a list of what I have so that I can tell when I'm making a recipe if I have the spice(s) called for without ripping the cabinet apart.

I am a bit startled by the contents of my cabinet. Not including some random baking supplies (food coloring, a small mortar and pestle, sprinkles, chocolate, etc.) I came across the following spices and extracts (admitting duplicates by listing them twice):

Allspice, ground
Allspice, homemade substitute (which I made once when I thought I was out of allspice!)
Allspice, whole
Almond extract
Aneth (see dill seed)
Apple pie spice
Basil leaves
Bay leaves
Blackened fish seasoning
Bread-dip seasoning
Cajun, Very hot
Caraway seed
Cardamom, ground
Cardamom, ground
Cayenne red pepper, ground
Celery salt
Celery seed
Chervil, Holland
Chili pepper, whole dried
Cinnamon sticks
Cinnamon, Chinese Cassia ground
Cinnamon, ground
Cinnamon, ground
Cinnamon, Vietnamese Cassia
Cloves, ground
Cloves, whole
Coriander, ground
Cream of Tartar
Cumin seed
Cumin seed, India ground
Cumin, ground
Curcuma (see turmeric)
Curry powder
Curry powder, hot
Curry powder, Maharajah
Dill Seed (French = Aneth)
Dill weed
Fennel seed
Five-spice powder
Garlic salt
Garlic, granulated
Ginger, ground
Ginger, ground
Herbes de Provence
Herbes de Provence
Marjoram leaves
Mint extract
Mulling spice
Mustard seed
Mustard, hottest ground
Nutmeg, ground
Nutmegs, whole
Onion salt
Oregano
Oregano, whole
Paprika
Paprika, Hungary sweet
Paprika, sweet
Peppercorns, red
Peppercorns, whole black
Poppy seeds
Pumpkin pie spice
Red pepper, crushed
Rosemary
Sage
Sage, ground
Salt, black Hawaiian sea
Seasoned salt
Shallot salt
Southwest seasoning
Sumac berries, Turkish ground
Tarragon
Thyme
Thyme, ground
Turmeric
Turmeric (French – Curcuma)
Vanilla extract
Vanilla sugar
Wasabi powder

The above are roughly alphabetized in the cabinet (only roughly because I moved my most-used spices to the front and my little-used spices to the back) every few months for about 2 days, but at least I have a list now and in theory won't buy more duplicates. The French spices are from a trip to Paris this past year, where we couldn't resist a few spices that looked good even though we weren't sure exactly what we were buying.

I should say, in my defense regarding duplicate spices, that when Rachel moved into a new apartment (years ago! I know you're supposed to throw spices out, but I only do when they smell weird or taste like nothing) she gave me all of her spices and some of them were things I already had. And sometimes when I order from Penzeys they throw in a free sample or two of something that I might already own.

Is it bad that this project (and typing this reckoning) just makes me want to open my Penzeys catalog and order more?! Well, I do need a hotter chili powder for our next Elote dinner.

*You should try a bit of relish on TOP of (not inside; spread with mustard) a fresh grilled-cheese sandwich.

It's so hard to hide the scientist inside.

I am a dunker. If I have milk in a glass near a plate of cookies (this applies to the hard and store-bought more than the soft or homemade), it's hard for me to keep my cookie out of there. Which means people don't share beverages with me while I eat Oreos. Which, actually, is okay by me.

After my foray to the dentist this morning (no root canal necessary! huzzah!), I have an aching jaw and instructions to chew neither the hard nor the sticky (nor the gum) on my new temporary crown. The aching jaw part is a little worse than I was expecting. I left work in need of a comforting, soft snack to lift my spirits. A soft snack and a new lip gloss, but the latter isn't edible so I won't comment on it further here. When Dan asked me to bring home some cookies, I decided the comforting, soft snack might as well be Oreos dunked in milk.

What you're about to read might at first suggest my brain was somehow addled by the Procaine Hydrochloride I was given this morning (I turned that movie off after 15 minutes, btw!), but it's related, so stay with me. Today I read about Stefania Follini, who lived alone (communicating with the outside world by computer) in a specially constructed habitat within a New Mexico cave for over 4 months in 1989. She took 400 books, her guitar, some art supplies, a journal, and a deck of cards for entertainment. The book I read did not mention snacking supplies, though she did make tea with yeast. But even if she was, probably, rather more Oreo deprived than you or I, her participation in the experiment helped scientists discover more about what can happen to our bodies and minds when not subject to the light-and-dark cycles contained in Earth's 24-hour days (potentially applicable, in part, to the experiences of astronauts). Pretty fascinating stuff.

Thus and therefore, my dentist's treachery (I jest! He was nice and efficient and it was painless until the numbness wore off) and an Italian woman's bravery (she was a volunteer and interior decorator, not a scientist or spelunker by profession), made today's after-school snack possible. Upon arriving home bearing comforting, dunkable chocolate cookies and fresh milk, I was inspired to conduct a science experiment of my own -- in Stefania's honor, of course. Its full title:

How many Double Stuf Oreos can I eat (each one being dipped in milk) before I start to feel slightly ill?

My findings:
The answer is 10. But I ate 12. For science!

An alphabet of food associations

A = applesauce, homemade. When I was a kid I didn't understand why the applesauce at school was yellow (or pink) and thin and watery. Gross me out the kitchen door! Applesauce is brown and chunky and thick. B = bacon, turkey. C is for cookie. That's good enough for me. D = doughnut, blueberry or filled with some sort of goo. E = at Ethan's house, his mom always had Chef Boyardee ravioli, which has a sauce that is way too sweet but I would be tempted to eat again and regret because I loved it then. I loved after-school snacks at Ethan's house. F = flossing. Some foods require more than others. Today I had a nectarine for breakfast. Then I had to floss selected teeth. G = grapes. I like green ones. I hear frozen is nice. H = hot cocoa with marshmallows. I = ooh. Ethan also had ice cream sandwiches. Lick the ice cream in the middle out first. J = jelly. This was my nickname at camp one year for about a minute. K = I'm kind of tired of ketchup. But it has its place. Hot dog - yes. Sausage - no. L = lemon or lime. In my experience, lemon squares never turn out the same consistency twice. M = milk complements so many snacks. N = Nigella Lawson goes to her refrigerator in the middle of the night and eats chocolate cake? I sleep straight through the night. Think of all the snack time I'm squandering. O = an O looks like a cookie. P = peanut butter. Pie. Chocolate peanut butter pie. Q = quince -- a fruit I'd like to try. This is not supposed to rhyme. R = root beer float. S = s'mores (Angela gave me a s'mores-maker for Christmas or my birthday one year and it should probably be featured on this site sooner or later). T = tomato slices with salt and pepper. U = I don't love pineapple upside-down cake. V = vanilla wafers. I'm almost out of vanilla from the trip to Mexico. Who has the best vanilla? W = watermelon. I will eat it plain. I will eat it in feta and olive salad. Thank you. Honorable mention: wasabi peas. X = as much as I love Wheat Chex with a little too much sugar in milk, Crispix mix has replaced Chex mix as my dry snack mix of choice. Y = Greek yogurt with raw honey. 2% fat or more. Heavenly. Z = Yipes! Stripes! Fruit-striped gum!

Edible me

[A version of this post was first published on Bakespace.]

On Serious Eats, someone posed this question:
"If you had to introduce yourself to someone by cooking them a three course meal that best described you, what would it be?"

I tried to make my choices accurately (if incompletely) reflect my personality, rather than simply choosing foods I'd like (though they are all foods I like to eat). What would this say about me?

1st course: Cornichons and assorted cheeses
2nd course: chicken roasted using Nigel Slater's method (as described in The Kitchen Diaries), mashed potatoes with lots of garlic and bacon, a little bit of garlic chicken gravy, asparagus and homemade bread.
3rd course: Sweet, fried plantains AND a small peanut butter brownie.

Beverage: Milk!

I realize that I do not make a very gourmet first impression.