The Thanksgiving Day Chronicles

10:05 - "The flags are out. Is there a game today?" -Dad (As part of a fundraiser, and even though we don't care much for sports, my parents paid the high school band $100 to put the University Back Home's colors on our front yard every football home game day. Thanksgiving Day is traditionally the big rivalry game between my University and the University Back Home. This year, the game took place in City Back Home) (And, as of 22:42, the University, as usual, won. Huzzah!)

11:11 - According to Dad, today seems like the perfect day to fix the sticky-outy piece of pipe on the stove that's been there for five and a half years. Except that now, instead of being ugly, it's broken. 11:11, how are the potatoes getting cooked?

13:31 - Disaster averted, but Little Brother needs to go back to kindergarten for basic cutting skills. Parchment paper = fail.

16:28 - Turkey's done and spewing molten grease all over the table. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

18:57 - Top half of the turkey: glorious, bottom half: uh, al dente?

***

To my American friends: Happy Thanksgiving! Hope your turkey/tofurkey/turducken was as delicious as ours!
To my non-American friends: Happy Thanksgiving too! I hope your day was fantastic without being Turkey Day!

Overdue ramblings

Today was an early day. I waltzed into lab at 10:00, transformed my diluted, cloned, recombineered, and miniprepped DNA into a batch of competent XL 10-Gold cells, caught up on a couple days of data to organize, planned out the rest of my summer in lab, and waltzed out of the lab at 14:00 (or thereabouts).

GB's post having reminded me that it had been much too long since my last culinary adventure (at least a week) that I decided to carpe the diem out of today and make cheesecake.


The recipes I combined together to reach ideal taste and texture being excessive in proportions despite having been cut in half,


I found myself with a plate of leftover fresh, warm gingersnaps (whose brethren were used for the crust).


Fortunately, they did not have to suffer long.

After that, I still had to make dinner. I'd been craving risotto for some time, so I embarked on the long and perilous journey that is a traditional family dish without a seasoned expert at hand to counsel me.

Thanks to the wonderful cookbook in our possession (they weren't kidding when they chose the title), I found an easy recipe and immediately proceeded to modify it to fit my current stock of ingredients (no white wine, no chicken stock, no saffron, but carrots, mushrooms, diced tomatoes, and what could have once been an instant-broth cube).

I started to take pictures to document the process (taking pictures of various stages of preparation is fun, I need to do this more often)


but the tantalizing smell was too much for my poor stomach, and I busied myself by drooling for the rest of the procedure.

The result looked (and smelled) so tasty that Girl From Nicaragua offered me fresh Parmesan to grate to complete the dish.

I ate dinner while she turned on the television and watched the "news" (Michael Jackson's funeral), flipped channels to the "entertainment" (Michael Jackson's funeral), wandered over to the "news analysts" (Michael Jackson's funeral) and finally landed on the only watchable program (NOVA, unsurprisingly) where the topic was redback spider males' funerals (inside their better half's stomach).

We talked about the sorry state of the Texas School Board (still idiots? Yep.), the sorry state of the plumbing (still no temperature control in the shower), and the sorry state of the male mind (one of her ex-boyfriends is writing a book about 'his lovers', and it is apparently very... descriptive.)

I looked over my class schedule (or module timetable, if you will) for next semester, noticed I'd noted the hour wrong for a class (which slightly threw off my plans for uninterrupted lab time on Tuesdays), lamented the schedule change for Geeky Science Organization meetings (I will be unable to attend unless I can reschedule an Ochem lab which I had a world of trouble getting into in the first place), cobbled together a plan to sit in to the seminar I can't officially attend as it is at the same time as scheduled research meetings (research meetings should only be once every two or three weeks), decided a class on Ethics in Science (the seminar I am currently registered for) wasn't that bad considering it accidentally was the the class advertised on the flyer next to the elevator in the lab which I'd been looking at interestedly for the past month, and finding time for violin lessons.

Beautiful Music Friend introduced me to Pharyngula last night. Biology, Terry Pratchett, Evolution, Calvin and Hobbes, and Cephalopods? I'm so in love.

(later)

Speaking of which, I popped over there for a second and have now spent an hour and a half composing a Letter of Science™ to the director of the Missing Universe Museum (linkworthy just because it's so terrible) and answering the "impossible" questions on the Evolution Test.

It's much too late, so I'm done ranting for now.

Dinner and a movie

Halfway through the week already, and what better way to celebrate than with friends, food, and films?

Cooking Buddy came over for dinner, as has become, I suppose, somewhat of a tradition.

Since the beginning of June, she has visited once every week or two to help me make a delicious dinner and watch a movie.

As per what is now tradition, we cooked our dish with plenty of garlic (which she loves and the taste of which I have discovered under her tutelage), our dessert with plenty of chocolate, and vast amounts of cheese in-between.

As a movie, she chose Chocolat, which I'd heard about but never actually seen.

As movies go, the plot was enjoyable. But as accuracy goes... Anachronisms aplenty and little attention to detail. However much I delighted in pointing out every fault I found, I cannot pretend to be immune to Johnny Depp's charm nor to Chocolate, that luscious ambrosia.

Cooking Buddy has said that next year, when she has an apartment and I have none, we shall continue these meetings, to tackle both the culinary and cinematographic worlds as well as for the sake of good food and good company.

By the Kitchen's Way

It is peculiar, the bonds you form in the kitchen.

I've liked to invite friends over to cook something since I was little.

It started with chocolate cakes--easy, simple, always satisfying: "Yeah, it's not baked entirely through, but man, is it delicious!"

Then, a different culture: "A cake? OK. What kind of mix do you have?" A mix? I, madam, bake from scratch!

My repertory diversified: "I don't really like cream cheese. Can we make a cheesecake without it?"

My friends had varying levels of experience: "The recipe said a tablespoon of sugar. That is not exactly a tablespoon. Let me level it for you." ... "A leek? Never heard of it. How do you peel it?"

The results varied, too: "You are the goddess of lasagna!" ... "I think the smoke is clearing up..."

So did technology: "Just put it in the machine for ten minutes, it will stir it for you." ... "Looks like I'm going to have to beat those egg whites with a fork."


Girl From Nicaragua and I have started cooking together over the past few days.

First, a pie. She was having trouble with the crust, and I was hanging around the kitchen, talking to her. It seemed natural to show her how to crumble the dough.

Next, lunch. "I have some tilapia fillets, but I'm not going to eat them all. Want to help me?" "Sure! Let's stew them with tomatoes and onions!"

She points out the best place in town for fresh fruits and vegetables. I describe the taste of rabbit and how to cook a duck. She shows me a strange wooden utensil we found in a drawer and explains that it is used traditionally in Nicaragua to make a "super-drink" out of corn flour and spices. I list the ingredients of cheesecake.


Food is a very private business--after all, it is your palate doing the tasting, and a lifetime of memories are stored within your taste buds--just ask Proust. Consequently, sharing a kitchen produces a kind of intimacy that would be hard to find elsewhere. It's a tricky business to start with, but it gets easier as you go along.

That's it, I'm starting a restaurant.

One of the reasons that I like to cook so much is that I like eating good food (another is that I think I look quite good in an apron, but that's unrelated.)

I have chosen to share some of my most renowned recipes with you. Delicious, (un)healthy, and worthy of the greatest chefs! Really! (Well, maybe not, but pretty close.) (I think so, anyway.)

For today, we'll go with pizza. Oh, not that pizza you get delivered at midnight for parties and movie nights, no sir!, not even the pizza you can get in so-called "restaurants." I'm talking about the real stuff here. The pie of legends. Something that would cost you about $80 to order anywhere and make an Italian chef cry with happiness.

First, you want to get yourself something to make the crust. I prefer to buy a chunk of bread dough/pizza dough from local shops (I recommend Double Dave's or a good bakery), although there exist pre-made crusts (I recommend the Boboli brand) you can buy if you'd rather have less work, and conversely you can make your own should you want to absolutely start from scratch (this is a pretty good recipe.) You should remember, however, that if you make your own dough you should start at least several hours ahead of the time you plan to have your pizza ready.

Then, you want to roll out your dough into the shape of the pan you plan to bake it in. The dough needs to warm up before it will respond to stretching. Lay it out on a layer of parchment paper on top of your pan, and set it aside.

Now for the fun part: garnishing. The only required element is the tomato sauce, although the tomato slices, meat, and mozzarella are highly recommended.

You will need about a cup of tomato sauce per pizza, preferably with olive oil. If your sauce does not have oil, quickly brush the dough with olive oil. Add the sauce, spreading it evenly. The layer should be thin. With a brush, spoon, or whatever implement you can think of, spread the sauce to the very edge (not quite as thickly as in the middle, a simple smudge will do.)

Cut a fist-sized tomato (if you have big fists, that is, if you have either small tomatoes or small fists you will need two or more tomatoes) into thin slices. 'Thin' meaning here that, ideally, you should strive to obtain a width of three molecules per slice.

Cut a small ball or log of fresh mozzarella into slices that look decently sized to you. To slice the mozzarella, use a sharp knife and press down even though it looks like the cheese is being squished. The slice will spring back to its original height after it falls away from your knife. Do not try to saw it, it will make the slices break into small pieces and then you will have to eat them to prevent the aesthetical ruin of your masterpiece.

Wash and cut enough portobello, button, common, table, or cultivated mushroom (Agaricus bisporus for the taxonomically inclined) to have about four handfuls of slices (again, depending on how big your hands are. Well then, make that however much mushroom you can handle/foist upon your tablemates. Bro and Sis hate mushrooms, so I always put a lot because then they give them to me and I get to eat them. I love mushrooms.) Mushrooms shrink, so make the slices only slightly thinner than the mozzarella ones.

Wash and cut/dice bell peppers of various shapes and colors. A bowlful should be enough.

Cut a handful of fresh basil leaves with scissors/shears/whatchumacallems.

Arrange the tomato slices on the bottom layer, then meat (I tend to use thin, smoked Italian meats such as dry coppa, the thinness of the meat makes it blend well with the rest of the toppings without being too voluminous, and its flavor still makes it stand out.) Add the mushrooms, peppers, and a handful of olives (mediterranean style is my favorite) if you want them, then basil, then mozzarella. Sprinkle with whatever spices and herbs you please (such as oregano) and drizzle with a little olive oil. You may also prepare whatever other ingredients strike your fancy. If there are any ingredients you use regularly, share them with me! I love trying out new things, and besides, that's how new recipes are made!

Pop in the oven (260°C, 500°F) for fifteen minutes (more for crunchier crust), then serve immediately.

(Yes, I realize it would be easier with pictures, I'm working on getting a camera so I can share homemade deliciousness, natural beauty, interesting shapes, shiny things, socks, and Science! with you.)

All units of measurement © Mom Dearest's Eyeball-it-o-metric™