November 20, 2005
Fruitcake of my dreams
There's nothing like a good solid day of virtuous cleaning, scrubbing, provision-buying more more cleaning to really do the soul good. (Especially if said soul went to the party of some friends, which was very fun and had, swear to GOD 3 drinks ONLY and yet become disgusting, sickeningly drunk, which was not fun, at all, and ruined the soul's Saturday with a horrible, horrible hangover. Turning into an old person sucks.)
Anyhow! It's long overdue, but last weekend I made fruitcake, following the ancesteral recipe (originally the recipe of a Mrs. Willis, published in the Toronto Star many eons ago). And when I say weekend, believe you me, it took all weekend. It's a two day recipe, starting on Saturday and culminating on Stir-up Sunday! But it's no sacrifice, because I love fruitcake with a love that is sincere and true. It's my favorite holiday dessert, but this year my Mum did not have a giant extra wheel to give me, as she has in years past. So, much like with the pickles of a few months ago, I was forced to make my own -- but it's not as bad as you might think, because now there are 6 pounds of delicious fruitcake that are mine, all mine, and they are in my fridge, at my disposal, for eating whenever I like! Well, whenever I like after it is done resting and its flavours have adequetely mingled, a process which will take another three weeks. Until then, enjoy this photo essay of the process:
www.flickr.com
|
Posted by Jen at 06:50 PM | Comments (0)
October 11, 2005
Damn you, stomach
A somewhat older and much wiser friend of mine once told me that, after turning twenty-five, she could no longer with impunity eat as much as she wanted of whatever she wanted -- that vast, unseemly quantities of delicious, non-nutritious foods didn't just add a few pounds, they made her feel sick to her stomach. I laughed at the time (I was a callow 24 then), but lately I have been meditating on her words with a renewed interest. Example: it is now 5:20 in the morning, a scant five hours after I went to sleep. I am sipping some water, trying to appease my stomach, which, faced with two solid days of Thanksgiving eating, has revernged itself on me by making me utterly miserable. I am sorry, tummy! No more stuffing, no more mashed potatoes, no more pumpkin pie with whipped cream. I offer up all the scruptious, starchy leftovers in the fridge and vow to eat only the clearest broths and most lightly steamed vegetables, if only you will let me get a good night's sleep and stop tying yourself in knots.
Posted by Jen at 05:19 AM | Comments (2)
October 10, 2005
Happy Thanksgiving!
Happy Thanksgiving!
www.flickr.com
|
Posted by Jen at 06:34 PM | Comments (0)
October 05, 2005
Wizards and crazies
So this weekend we went to the Medieval Fair in Fort Tryon Park and
it
was
AWESOME!
There was a joust, and people in costume and fried dough and goths and children dressed as Robin Hood and everything. As a bonus, Nate fulfilled his dream of finally speaking with Blackwolf the Dragonmaster, New York's unofficial wizard. He and Paul got his autograph and learned that Blackwolf will be appearing along with Triumph, the comic insult dog, at a show on November 3. Fabulous! Some pictures:
www.flickr.com
|
On a much less fun note, kids in Washington Heights can't catch a break lately. First there was the baby stabbing one block away, and tonight a kid fell out a window. I think maybe there's a full moon -- There was a craaaaaaaaaaazy man on Broadway the other day who was waving his hands around and shouting. He had a long (seriously long -- like, past his waist long) thick white stream of drool hanging out of the corner of his mouth, and when my friend and I walked by him he freaking chased after us, I could hear his flipflops slapping the cement. He stopped when he whirled around to confront him, but he kept ranting inconrehensibly as we left. Freaky. Maybe gawker's right: New York is getting edgy.
P.S. More evidence for the white noise machine: In the past few nights, my dreams have included arriving at my high school gym only to see the guy from "According to Jim" steal my seat and test sheet; being Harry Potter -- a New York-based Harry Potter who is still me, somehow--and trying to escape Voldemort by taking the A-train to Brooklyn (unsuccessful) and, last night, that my father and I were picking apples from an orchard, and that to do this my dad was wearing a shoulder mounted contraption that reached spindly Erector-set like arms up into the trees to pluck the apples off. Yikes.
Posted by Jen at 10:43 PM | Comments (2)
September 27, 2005
Dream a little dream of Bradley Cooper
Is it the far-off call of the merengue music perpetually playing outside our window? The sounds of small children roaming around and climbing trees at 2 a.m.? Whether it's the siren sounds of my neighborhood at night or not, something is disturbing my sleep, and it's manifesting itself in weird, kinda ominous and very specific dreams. For example, last night I had a dream that I was the chef from "KItchen Confidential" (the TV show, not the book). In my guise as this guy, I had 10 children, and believe you me, it's no picnic trying to provide for 10 kids on a chef's salary -- and how to keep up with all of their schedules? (I used an elaborate organizational system, modeled after the one developed by the efficiency-expert parents from "Cheaper by the Dozen.") (Again, the book, not the movie.)
I also, for reasons not fully made clear to my subsconscious, had an IV drip in my arm the whole time, which made cheffing all the more challenging.
Time to look into a white noise machine, I think.
Posted by Jen at 07:19 PM | Comments (1)