Anyone who has ever been to my house knows that more often then not an unknown or new face will pop up out of nowhere. It started six years ago and continues to this day, my home has become a bed and breakfast of sorts or the 'European Youth (not so youthful) Hostel' as my friends so eloquently refer to it. Some guests are here for just a few days, many return, others stay for months at a time and on the rare occasion, some are so deeply despised that just the utterance of their name can make me shudder. Regardless of the circumstance, it is fair to say that in my house you are more likely to find a face you don't recognize than one you do. This can be nice in moments of solitude, providing the unique comfort that only a conversation with a stranger can offer; a void filled, even if just for a moment. The guests can also be a cumbersome pain, like when they don't pick up on the fact that you may like to have coffee in quiet in the morning and no, you don't feel like talking. Disconcerting at times, the constant flow of strangers does create one unique opportunity, a reason to cook.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
I have never really considered myself a slacker, until now. About a month ago was the last night I wrote a blog post, around that time I also made this cake for the next blog post. It has taken me until now to share it. Pathetic, I know. I feel pretty terrible about the whole thing, not because there are so many readers out there dying to see what's next (there aren't), but because I pride myself on my ability to maintain this blog no matter how much other stuff I have going on. However, as my friends' favorite t-shirt reads, 'Shit Happens.' Right on.
But back to the cake. This cake was a product of the aforementioned abundance of plums and a year-long desire to make a yeasted kuchen that I had seen in Gourmet a year prior. So I made it, but when it came out a leaden brick of underwhelming plum-ish cake, I went back to the drawing board (aka Epicurious).
Saturday, September 4, 2010
As I sat on the subway on my way to work the other day, there was a group of 'kids' (I feel weird saying that) talking and laughing awkwardly. I eavesdropped enough to pick up on the fact that they were college freshman who were in that fittingly awkward getting-to-know you phase of orientation. I laughed to myself as I watched and listened to them, clearly uncomfortable, one-upping each other with stories of badass high school parties, crazy nightclubs, and that time that they got caught by their parents. Part of me wanted to tell them that rather than being so uncomfortable, they might as well loosen up now, because they would eventually anyhow, and why waste time being anxious? My more cynical side wondered who would still be friends after four years, who would be eaten alive by New York City, and who had already decided that these were not the people that they wanted to be friends with. And then, just for fun, I wondered which girl was the sluttiest, which guy might be ashamed of going to college a virgin, who was lying about their past and if anyone was standing there with a smile, but secretly wanting to cry. Come to think of it, it's no wonder freshmen drink so much.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
I was at a loss for what to name this dish, hash? mash? grated corn? All of the above? All I am sure of is that it ain't pretty. At all. Thank goodness for that stunning cobalt bowl, which slightly detracts from the sheer unattractiveness of what I am fairly certain looks like prechewed corn. People, please don't judge a book by it's cover because I assure you that what this corn dish lacks in the looks department, it more than makes up for in taste. All that without butter or cream or much salt. Sounds too good to be true? That's why it has to be ugly, you can't have it all, that just wouldn't be fair.