Deflation

Forgive this break from our regularly scheduled programming, but I just had to bring you this:

From my horoscope today, courtesy (or dis-courtesy, as you will shortly see) of Google -

"Everything isn't as rosy as it appears, so don't be fooled just because others seem to support you. It's not a good idea to relax and let down your guard, for it's likely that you don't have the whole picture. Building a relationship on promises won't work now, so get to the bottom of what's going on before a little problem grows into a much larger one."

What. The. Crap.

I want to go back to bed now. What is the purpose of deflating people so throughly?? I read my horoscope about once every 6 months. When I do read it, I like be told that I am wonderful, smart, irreplaceable, and am about to have the bestest day ever. Honesty, if honesty it be, has no place in horoscopes! Gah.

Round 2

I got tagged! Lovely Leena, who I would force to be my bestest friend ever if she lived on the same continent, tagged me for a meme. I sort of kind of have already done a meme like this, so consider this Round 2. Way waay more information than you needed to know about me.

Here are the rules:
1. Link to your tagger and post these rules.
2. Share 5 facts about yourself.
3. Tag 5 people at the end of your post and list their names, linking to them.
4. Let them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment at their blogs.

1. I love pickles in every form and shape. I have no fewer than three different jars of pickles in my fridge at any one time. I am still looking for my dream pickle brand. If you have any suggestions/preferences, please let me know. My parents tell me that when I was little I loved sweetened tea and pickles. Together. Don’t know how a five year old could have the food cravings of a preggers lady, but there you go.

2. I have only been in one physical fight in my life. And by that I mean that I got picked on hard core when I was in seventh grade. Picture a girls locker room. Scratch that. That’s wrong. Don’t picture a girls locker room. Picture me, with a soon to fade Russian accent, perm, glasses, and braces – oh yea – in a head lock by a girl who is not only smaller than me, but also has uglier hair (I didn’t even think it possible). It sucked. Courtney Wergely (don’t remember how to spell her name) - I hope your hair is still ugly. Mine rocks. It’s occasionally hot pink. So ha! I win.

3. I have a super duper fancy pants camera and absolutely no idea how to use it. I am all about excess.

4. I am now, and will forever remain, a brand label whore. I am unrepentant, I have no intention of weaning myself off, I don’t care if people think it’s bratty. You get what you paid for and I firmly believe this. If I have the choice between CVS brand toilet paper or no toilet paper at all, I will not buy toilet… Err, ok, I will buy CVS brand, but only if I really really have to.

5. I don’t watch TV, hardly ever. I used to be able to hold up normal conversations about pop culture – even if I had never seen the show, I would have usually heard of it and knew what it was about. No longer. I don’t even know what people are talking about most of the time! I have never seen Arrested Development (yea, I know, shut up), I am not entirely sure what Lost is about, I recently heard about the Wire. It’s terrible. I don’t know when I turned into one of those people that is completely isolated and out of the way of popular culture. Kids these days…


Ok, I am pretty sure that is way more than anyone wanted or needed to know about me. I am done now, and have to go to bed. Another fun filled day of vomit-inducing dissertation writing is ahead of me. Lord almighty, I want to be done already!

Now that I am done, I can pass the torturous torch on to other people so they can reveal their deepest and darkest to the world wide internets.

Scott, One Food Guy, soon to be fresh from India, full of great food no doubt.
JC
Allen (Green Armadillo)
Naveen (you have a blog outside of JoVE, right?)
Michelle, who knows the pain of dissertation writing all too well.

Under Ground

I am completely buried. I defend my dissertation (...I think I just threw up a little) on May 6. This means that my dissertation is due to my executioners, ahem, examiners, on April 22. That gives me about 6 weeks to write a 200 page document that technically, is supposed to make sense and make me sound all smart and PhD-like. I don't know how this is going to happen.

I just want to play, eat, and post on the blog! Alas, that is going to slow down for the next month. Suck. Wish me luck. Also wish for someone (you know who you are) to keep me from eating myself sick with Cheetos and other crappy studying food.

Do a Good Deed

I have a special pot of pity reserved for all grad students world wide. Grad school is hard, it takes forever, and requires more patience than you ever thought could fit into your body. For this reason (and because she is seriously awesome – a Master's degree in Gastronomy? The very definition of awesome), I am posting a link to a survey that Leena, at Leena Eats, has to administer for her dissertation on food blogs (awesome again). Her dissertation, folks. This is serious.

Help a fellow student out. If you are a US resident (sorry to exclude) spend 10 minutes of your time sometime between January 14 - 28th clicking away on a survey about food blogs. It’s a mitzvah.

Take the poll HERE.

Too Perfect

I just couldn’t resist.



New Year’s pedicure polish color: Vodka and Caviar.

How perfect is that??

Wishing all a Happy New Year, filled to the stomach-expanding brim with good food, good drinks, and of course, Vodka and Caviar.

I Love My Friends

Long blogging absence, even longer graduate school career that Just. Won't. Die. In other words, I have yet another committee meeting tomorrow which has slowed my blogging activities to a crawl. BUT seeing as how I am here to entertain, and since I am a comment whore, I thought I would pass on this excerpt from an email from a dear friend. I think you will quickly see why he and I get along.

In response to my previous post about Christopher Kimball's low opinion of Rachael Ray:

"I haven't really watched Rachel Ray. I think I saw a portion of one show. She has this nice round bottom, but not much going on in the chest area. The two halves don't match. That has nothing to do with her cooking ability... just an observation. I think I have seen her more on Dunkin Donuts commercials lately...which I found odd because I thought she supported some healthy eating initiative."

The Humanity!

There is no use in denying it – autumn has descended upon Boston. The leaves have changed color and are swirling down to the ground into messy piles, the squirrels have gone crazy and spastic getting ready for the next nine months of winter… and the nutjobs have come out to dine. That is not necessarily an indicator of a change in seasons, but it has come to my attention.

There I was, sitting in a perfectly cozy subterranean Italian restaurant in Beacon Hill (for an NNB review) when I happened to glance over at the next table… and gasped. Loudly. I then proceeded to stare and shoot threatening looks at the woman at that table, trying to make her aware of her incredibly inappropriate and disturbing behavior.

What was she doing? Dancing on the table? No, but that would have been cool. Flossing her teeth with her hair? Nope. Completely revolting, but not unheard of. You know what she did? Get ready for this. She poured ice water into her glass of RED WINE. She really did. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. I was floored. I may have been the only one at my table to have such a violent reaction, but that's beside the point.

Look, you don’t have to like red wine, or wine at all for that matter. I mean, I probably won’t have much respect for you, but it’s still ok not to like it. You don’t have to order red wine with dinner. Have a beer, a vodka martini (or four), a Shirley Temple, anything!, but do not order a glass of red wine and proceed to defile it by adding water (especially ice water). I can’t imagine a more perfect way to ruin something complex, alive and breathing, beautiful and warming than by diluting and chilling it with ice water.

You know what the lesson here is? Embrace your tastes, your likes and dislikes. At dinner, order a drink you will enjoy, one that will enhance your meal and your evening, no matter what that drink is. But don’t, for the love of all that is holy, order a glass of red wine simply because you think that you should, because it’s the grown-up thing to do, or because everyone else is doing it and then humiliate that wine in front of ardent and emotional fans such as myself. That’s just wrong.




Rant over. Thank you for your attention.

For Everything Else, There Is... Take-Out.

Time to first use of mandoline since purchase:
- approximately 17 days.

Time to cut finger:
- approximately 15 seconds.

Realizing that you may be too scatterbrained to safely cross the street, much less feed yourself?

TIMELESS.

My Personal Philosophy...

... If you can't spell, pronounce, or otherwise identify it, DON'T EAT IT

... If two or more of its ingredients cannot be obtained in non-powdered form,
DON'T
EAT
IT

... In other words, if your food is not made of food,
DON'T EAT IT


This orange creamsicle cake monstrosity assaulted me with a most pungent chemical aroma. I was at least three feet away. It smelled like orange-clean-your-toilet-bowl spray. I gagged. Really. I did. Then I had to get in close to get a picture. I put my olfactory neurons on the line for my journalistic (food-alistic?) integrity. Hope you can all appreciate my sacrifice.

Check out what I can only assume to be trans-fat globules on the corrugated tin material of the container. Gag.

I am done ranting now. Thank you for your time and attention.

Little Fish, Big Fish

You are never going to believe who I met tonight. You will be jealous forever. Ok, maybe not forever but for a totally long time. I can't go into real detail at the moment because I am about two weeks behind schedule with this whole sleeping business, but soon!

I will say that it's not just bands I deify.




P.S. Just for the record, that word is "few," not "Jew". It threw me for a second.

How The Other Side Lives

I visited two parallel universes in one weekend. It was a bit of a whirlwind.

The first visit gave me a glimpse of what my life would be like if I married for money and/or chose a career slightly (ha) more profitable than microbiology, while the second revealed what it could be like to have three kids, house, and husband, all by the ripe old age of 25. Both of these revelations were somewhat traumatic.

Let me start at the beginning. I went to Nebraska this weekend. Yep, Nebraska. I never wanted to know where Nebraska is, much less visit it. I am happy to say that I still have no idea where it is. “Over there” remains sufficient for me. Due to scheduling issues and delays (stupid Logan Airport) I was shuffled to a new flight, getting bumped to first class in the process.

We were plied with vast quantities of spring water, booze, and good cheer all before leaving the ground in our wide, recliner-like seats. And then we were fed – roasted vegetable pizza with ricotta, parmesan and feta. It was good! It wasn't "good-for-an-airplane" good, but actually good. I could very easily get used to this manner of travel.

What I would have a harder time getting used to are the semi-hostile stares of the people filing past me to their seats in coach. “It’s not my fault!!,” I wanted to yell out, but didn’t, for fear of being kicked out of first class and relegated to coach with the rest of the riff raff.

The other thing I was not a fan of – I was one of two women in first class, and the only one not traveling in the capacity of “the wife.” Bit of a culture shock there. I was surrounded by men in suits and sat next to one named (I kid you not) Blaine. Blaine? Seriously? He was perfectly nice and friendly, but I had a hard time excusing his name… even after I had a beer.

Speaking of culture shock… Nebraska. Huh.

At the engagement party of the bestest of friends, I was seated next to the Nebraska born and bred friends of her fiance. The women among them were approximately my age, if not a little younger (ack). They promptly and thoroughly questioned me as to my marital/relationship status and were shocked and impressed by the fact that I am not only single, but that I traveled to Lincoln, Nebraska *gasp* all by myself. “You are so brave!” they mused. I hadn’t realized that domestic airspace was pirate-infested and dangerous, but alright, I'll take brave.

Once they realized that I a) didn’t care to hear about their kids, b) didn’t care to discuss the possibility of having kids of my own, and that c) my sense of humor, taste in television shows, and choice of reading material did nothing but puzzle and irritate them, I was left to my Pinot Grigio and giant plate of amazingly good food from the Kansas City caterer that served the party. On my fully loaded plate: spicy saag paneer with the tenderest paneer cubes, lamb curry with strong cinnamon undercurrents, dal makhani (brown dal made with butter/ghee), raita, pakoras, naan, and assorted sweets (mithai; jalebi is a personal favorite).

I am now happily, safely, and non-pirate-molestedly back to my non-first class, child-free life. As I slip back into my normal schedule, among people who see the world as I do, I realize that I could have been many different people, each with her own society, problems, and set of expectations, judgments and motivations, but I am simply me, with a puzzling and irritating sense of humor, penchant for traveling alone, and slowly returning love of vegetables, especially multi-colored ones. These radishes are going on the salad that I will take to lab with me tomorrow as I attempt to recover from the mass quantities of food I ate this weekend. I will eat my salad while dreaming of saag paneer and deep-fried sugar syrup. Sigh.

It's All About Me

It was recently brought to my attention that there is fairly little information about me in my blog. I made the decision to keep it as impersonal as possible when I started the blog but now I can’t figure out why. It seems contrary to the whole concept of blogging. It’s not a lot of fun to read a blog when it is suspended in empty space, so to speak. So in an utterly tacky move, I am tagging myself for a meme that’s been making the rounds (it’s ok! Amanda said I could) – five things you don’t know about me. Assuming you want to know them. If you don't, stop reading now.



Deep Breath (as my cell phone tells me every time I open it). Here I go.


1. I am in grad school, working on my PhD in Virology. I work in a basic science lab studying… ready for it? Herpes. No, not the one “down there”. The other herpes, HSV-1. It’s not as good an ice breaker as one might think. Although I totally win over my friends who study HIV - usually people just back away slowly from them. I should (please please) be done by next winter. And then… Then will be then. Deep Breath.

2. I wear the same bracelet every day. I used to have a bit of a bracelet fetish and still have piles of them but I am now committed to the one perfect bracelet. My parents brought it back for me from Ireland eons ago. It has almost become a part of me, much like my signature scent. I feel odd without it. And the photo was taken in my kitchen, so whatever you see in the background is where I make all the giant messes that serve as preludes to dinner.


3. I love (love love) Jane Austen. Can take or leave the Brontes, Dickens is a’ight, but it’s Austen that I cannot get enough of. I am pacing myself, not letting myself gorge on all her books in one fell swoop because then they will be done and I will have nothing left. That day will, unfortunately, come and it will be a very sad one, matched only by the day when I finish the last Harry Potter book. I am telling you now that I will crying and I am not ashamed to admit it.

4. Now this is getting hard. I am running out of things to say… Oh, I know! I sail and ski. Those are my two big activities. Summer is all about sailing – on the Boston Harbor. I hardly ever get to cruise for fun with a bottle of wine and lots of cheese… ooh I miss that… I have mostly been racing Solings once a week (I’m foredeck).



The boats at the dock are the ones I cruise on (J24), the smaller boats on mooring balls in the background are the ones I race. FYI, I am maybe one step above sucking when it comes to racing. Skiing I love but never do more than twice a year which I am trying in vain to remedy... but I love it.

5. Now I am totally done. Four is the best I can do. Now maybe the food I make and eat can be taken in context. Context of what I am not entirely certain, but you can be sure that I am likely wearing that bracelet.

Cheese and Tease

This is what one might call a teaser campaign. Please make do with this preview of an upcoming post while I do battle with yet another committee meeting. Any guesses as to what the post will be of? It's not much of a challenge, I know.

Lessons Learned

Now that I am all atoned and repented, I can share a bit of wisdom with you that I managed to stumble upon during my time of reflection and starvation.

1) Clothes fit a lot better after a fast. I am, however, in no way advocating this as an effective weight loss technique because frankly, and not surprisingly, it sucks big time. Breaking the fast most certainly makes up for all the calories denied the day prior leaving you (me) back at the start.

2) I spend an inordinate amount of time during each of my days thinking about food. When I wasn't eating and was trying desperately not to think about food, I was totally bored! There was nothing to fill all of my empty time. Food = intellectual stimulation.

3) When preparing to embark on a 24 hour fast, the choice of reading material is absolutely crucial. For example, I chose My Life in France, Julia Child's autobiography. I don't know why the problem with this choice wasn't obvious to me until the day of the fast. The book is wonderful, Julia Child's voice is inviting and lacking in pretense and she is generally a whole lot of fun (none of these are novel observations, I realize). It's so much fun to read, especially since each sentence is dripping with her joy and enjoyment of every moment of her life (or of the life she chooses to present, anyway). BUT she talks a lot about food. Duh. She talks about food in gorgeous detail, about both her failures and unmitigated successes. I highly recommend it, but only when you are not at all hungry.

That's as far as I got. I try not to dig too deep.

Striptease: A Photoessay

I saw Little Miss Sunshine last week and decided that I need a routine of my own. It took me forever to work it out.


And here it is, set either to N.E.R.D. "She Wants To Move" or The Raconteurs "Level," whichever your pleasure. Pleasure being the point here, of course.










Get comfortable.














Ready?













Press play.













Turn it up.































That's all you get. Don't be greedy.




Please note: no cheese was harmed in the making of this post. In fact, I think it rather enjoyed itself.

Oy

This, is a fridge:

[Note the picture of the adorable Beagle whom I miss so very much]

This, is the fridge of a busy, busy girl:

How embarrassing is this?? I have a food blog, but all I have in my refrigerator is a half dead bell pepper and something I got at the food Russian store that I won't describe because it will gross people out. I don't even have any alcohol... I have reached a new low.

I vow to return from my week in Seattle with renewed energy and time to actually buy and prepare food. So looking forward to eating in Seattle (I loooove Seattle) and writing about it. I promise some very pretty sushi pictures.

~AK

Tea and a Shameless Plug

Tea is a big deal in Europe, India, and the rest of Asia. Actually, it's a big deal everywhere outside of the U.S. To give credit where credit is due, the U.S. is catching on. There are all sorts of tea websites and tea catalogues (I would link you to Melissa's earlier post but I don't know how. Sorry) available, and even entire stores devoted to tea. This is very exciting for me. I do not believe there has been a day in my life (only slight exaggeration here) that I have not had at least one cup of tea. It is a part of my day, much like checking my email a zillion times.

Prince of Wales Tea was recommended by a friend - I like my tea with references. A little background: Prince of Wales tea was, not surprisingly, named after Edward, Prince of Wales (Edward VIII) who requested a "carefully blended tea." You don't know what that means? That's ok, neither do I. This particular tea blend contains Oolong, Assam, Gunpowder, and other varieties of tea leaves.

This is not a tea one drinks when in a rush. This is a tea that one needs to sit and think about - it is not a straightforward flavor. The first taste smoky, next up a slight tint of resin. It reminded me Lapsang Souchong, the diet version. The overpowering resin flavor in Lapsang was tempered in Prince of Wales, and the overall taste was softer and rounder but still quite distinct. This tea requires time and attention, so beware!

Yesterday, I had a cup of Prince of Wales my favorite mug.

And now, it is time for the shameless plug. I will never do this again, I promise, but bear with me because this is important. The mug is from an organization in Seattle, Chaya, one that my very close friend has devoted herself to for the last two years. And I mean devoted, wholly, and entirely. Chaya serves the South Asian women's community in Seattle, aiding victims and survivors of domestic violence, and striving to raise awareness of domestic abuse in the South Asian community. If you have time, take a look at the website.

That's it for my shameless plug. I feel not too guilty about it - it's not like I was selling that spray that's supposed to simulate hair. Do people actually buy that?

~AK