This afternoon I decided I wanted to experiment after watching a video of Laura Calder, who is the Julia Child to my Julie Powell. Although I am not exactly going through a master cookbook like Julie was, her blog is the inspiration for mine, and Laura is my muse. I digress. After watching an episode of her show French Food at Home entitled “Truckstop French,” I was inspired to make a brie sandwich.
However, I had English muffins, not baguette, and I toasted them in butter instead of slathering on softened butter. Laura Calder loves butter just as much as Julia Child or I ever could. I love that about cooks who make French food. They are neither afraid of butter, nor afraid to use a lot of it and I really think that nobody ever should be! Butter is a saint, as is bread. I think they are frequently martyrs, but I’m resurrecting them for my own cooking escapades.
Back to my sandwich. I added to my sandwich an egg fried over easy in the butter from my English muffins. All I have to say is, “PLEASE do NOT make this sandwich!” it did not taste very nice, brie and juicy egg together…and I didn’t make clarified butter, which I probably also should have done. However, I don’t really know how and I don’t intend to learn it tonight, as I’m too tired from this week. A week, which is, to my dismay, not over yet…
I need another nap.
And maybe another glass of wine.
p.s. I found a recipe for “Quick and Easy Yorkshire Pudding” which I intend to try soon. Does anyone have any tips on what to pair with it? (Other than wine, of course!)
As none of you probably know this, since I am sure I have only told a few people… I love food: cooking, testing new recipes, attempting to show the world what I’m eating (my iPhone doesn’t take wonderful photos), and of course, eating. Baking and cooking are my favorite things in the world to do, and I feel that perhaps if I worked in a kitchen or wrote about food for a living I could be happy. Very very happy.
Other times, I realize that I’m rarely happy when I’m doing something because I’ve been told to do it…It makes the task drag on and on and on…And I’m on a mission: to change my way of thinking. Or, at least to find something that is so wonderful that I want to do it even if I’m assigned the job and have to do it for the rest of my life.
So, is this a difficult, daunting task? Hell yes it is. I’m scared that I’ll fail. I’m certain I success will take me on a long, possibly treacherous journey. “Nevertheless, I am willing.”
Long story short, I am going to start blogging about food much more than anyone could probably ever want to read about it… I take that back: that statement is doubly false: I can’t possibly blog about food more than anyone would want to read about it because 1) I’m incredibly lazy and 2) Everyone I know loves thinking, reading and talking about food enough that I would be hard-pressed to bore them with such a blog.
So get excited for my first blog about food coming up later this week.
It will be inspired by one of these two blog posts:
When you have a bad day, everything seems to be multiplicative…My day started out ok, just some unpleasant correspondence from the woman I’m renting a room from. Nothing too serious, she was just annoyed at me because SHE chose not to put HER phone on silent last night. Not my fault, but I was doomed to hear about it… even after I apologized, she still went on…
Then the weather was crap today (pouring down rain), so I drove to school. No big deal, usually. I even rather love the rain when I am inside, but my umbrella is kiiiiind of malfunctioning… When I got to class, everyone was worried because we were getting our German tests back today. After lecturing us for 10-15 minutes, she gave us our results. I got a C+ (which to be honest is better than I expected).
Obviously I didn’t feel like staying on campus for four and a half hours with nothing to do but read fifty pages of Gertrude Stein‘s Picasso. Then there was Walgreens…
Normally when I go to Walgreens I’m happy to be there because they have something I desperately need (usually feminine products). I put thirty cents in the parking meter (that is nine minutes for you non-San Franciscans) and went inside to exchange some foundation and buy tampons. I made the mistake of trying to find a better shade of foundation than the orangey one I had previously picked. I found one I thought would work better and then went to pay.
Apparently, all of this took longer than nine minutes, as when I went back out, the parking cop was putting a ticket on my windshield! He said to me, “I’m sorry, I’ve already written the citation. You need to put money in even if you’re going to be quick.” As though I had tried to avoid paying a measly few cents! I was enraged. Flabbergasted. Incensed. Above all, though, I felt dejected. I have never gotten a real parking ticket before, and at my undergrad University, I had always fought them if I missed. Sometimes I even got the ticket forgiven. Nevertheless, I had never had a $62 ticket before.
So, I sat in my car and cried like a child. Tears streaming down my face as they hadn’t done in at least a few months, I felt petty, but also vindicated in my upset-state. I am allowed to be upset when I get a parking ticket whether I deserve it or not, am I right?
Pain, Pain, Pain…does it hurt?
No Cries, no Tears, but many later come.
Haunted am I, but free is He.
He, who I grew to love, though I guess I always did.
I saw it leave, a Life so dear.
It lingers and I see it. It hurts, but there is no Pain.
I am relieved, but I feel no Relief.
A “better place” construed to ease Minds, but the Heart knows it is where he is.
I’ll never let go, I will always love You.Not Jack, but Bear, did I lose