Long Weekend

[Written last night]

Well, two out of three ain’t bad. Internet is out now, so I’m writing this in Word and I’ll post it when I can.  (Time Warner: Totally Wretched, Treasonous Wastrels.)

 On the brighter side of things (“You know what the Monty Python Boys say…” “Always look on the bright side of life?” “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.” –Sliding Doors), I’m in the middle of an excellent little book of short stories called Tunneling to the Center of the Earth, by Kevin Wilson. They are a perfect blend of creative, amusing, and human and heartfelt, so thanks to my friend at Ecco who passed the book my way.

 I also saw the movie Julie & Julia this evening. Unlike almost everything else I do, this wasn't planned days or weeks in advance; one of my roommates suggested it, and for once I didn’t have any other plans. I’d wanted to see it, and I did like it, though every once in a while when they spent too much time on the characters’ personal lives, I wanted them to get back to the part with the food. And dessert was sadly under-represented.

As I have the next four (four!) days off, it was actually great timing to see the movie tonight, because over the next few days I will have time to cook! I pulled a few of my cookbooks down from the top of the fridge when I got home, and spent some time on the kitchen floor leafing through them. I bought beets a few days ago, because they’re in season, so I might try something new with those. And if I make a challah tomorrow, then I can make French toast for breakfast on Saturday. Oh joy!

After the nth recipe link I sent my mother, she replied with a single question: “Seriously, how much time do you spend thinking about food?” So I thought about it seriously, and if you include all the time spent grocery shopping, cooking, eating, and cleaning up, in addition to any menu-planning, random cravings, looking at recipes online…I think the figure I came up with was roughly 20%. (Is that bad? But food is important! Need I point out the obvious? Without it, we’d die. Same goes for sleep, and the average human spends 1/3 - 33.3% - of their life asleep. This seems like a lot, but consider: sloths sleep twenty-three hours a day!) 

Road signs and food combined! Ah, perfection. A friend of a friend is actually a native of Sandwich. I once went to her house for a visit, and as we drove through town we passed the police station: that’s right, the Sandwich Police. An old and annoying joke for her, perhaps, but it cracked me up. (“Sir. Sir! I’m sorry, that is entirely too much mustard you have on there. We’re going to have to ask you to come with us.” I mean…right? How is that not funny?)

Here’s a real sandwich. Every once in a while I revert to childhood, when I was a contender for World’s Pickiest Eater, and grilled cheese (with American cheese!) was a staple. No way would I have eaten the end slice of bread then, though. 

At one point, it happened that we had some salmon in the freezer. A lot of salmon, actually. My dad, in all his benevolent strangeness, sent three gigantic pieces of salmon (and some frozen wild blueberries, why not) packed in dry ice, from Alaska to New York. This was a lot of fish: to give you an idea, the pieces were so long they just barely fit into the freezer sideways-wise. So anyway, we had this fish, and we defrosted some and I improvised a penne-spinach-garlic-salmon-butter-white wine bowl of goodness. And we used the blueberries to make smoothies. So, thanks, Dad!

Finally: The Cake. And The Mixer. The chronology is not in question here: The Cake came first. This is one recipe I will not be giving away (though if you are a very dear friend, I might make it for you for your birthday), because it is a Secret Recipe. It was my parents’ wedding cake; I think it had buttercream frosting on that occasion, though I’ve always had it with chocolate cream cheese frosting, as you see here. Also, there is coffee involved. But that’s all I’m sayin’. My mom used to make it for all of our birthdays, until we grew up and moved away (I will have to rethink that move. Now I have to make my own birthday cake.) However, now that I have this beautiful lovely mixer…

…it is actually pretty easy. This is my prize kitchen appliance (yes, yes, very 1950s of me to be ranking my kitchen appliances, but you know what? This mixer kicks ass). It was given to me not by my mother – who did say at one point that she would get me one either on my 25^th birthday or when I moved into someplace a little more permanent (i.e., somewhere I might live for more than a year) – but, as it happened, by my co-workers, who, in a fit of truly inspired generosity, all pitched in to make it this year’s best birthday present. I could not imagine what was in this absurdly heavy, beautifully wrapped box they heaved onto the table – I think I made a joke about a rock garden starter kit – but when I tore off enough wrapping to see what it was…oh my. One of the very few times in my life I’ve been rendered speechless: the whole hand-to-mouth gesture and everything. And it is so pretty! And it works so well! 

Unlike certain other goods and services I could mention. As a friend of mine once said...I'm not naming any names, but I am pointing all ten fingers.