When What You Ought to Do Isn't What You're Doing.

Going home isn't always easy. There's an adjustment period. Things have changed, people have altered their lives. Nostalgia gets in the way of the moment, and sometimes you waste time trying to recall moments from a long time ago. Well, maybe not so much a moment, but the feelings you had during those moments that made it feel like home in the first place. This is why people use the tired old phrase "You can't ever go home." Because you can't. And I say you "waste time" because that's what you're doing when you've made choices and then expect for everything to have been frozen in time like a capsule. That's not the way the world, or people, or anything, works. The way things do work is that everything grows and changes and replaces the you-shaped hole that you left behind. And it is chaotic, and illogical, and doesn't really make sense. Trying to make it make sense is silly and just makes you sad, like everyone gets when they feel like they've lost something meaningful. 

These are all things I thought about in the car on the way back from Greensboro. And, you know, I was sad in some ways for the reasons I just mentioned. However, I was also happy because, you know, people and things had grown in strange, interesting, and unfamiliar ways. If I try to tie it in to everything I've been studying, which is a lot about desire and it's inherent creativity, then everything just kept renewing itself in my absence, which I think is pretty wondrous in and of itself. Not, of course, that this would happen despite my going away (which would be unbelievably narcissistic), but that it happens at all, and that I get to experience it in a different way. Because otherwise what good would it be? If we had to reach deep inside ourselves and try at being honest, do we really want it all to be the same? Stagnant? Unchanging? I'd like to think not. 

Which is amazing again because when you're driving, when you're in between places, you're almost in the best place of all. You have the memory and desire of a location in time and space, and you have the same for where you just were, wherever that was. Which means that you get to be in multiple places in multiple times, and if that's your reality then time and change sort of stop mattering. And I know that there's always a lot of talk about the "haunting" of our memory - about how memory is always changing us, how history is always just now. I don't like "haunting" as an adjective because it implies terror and fear. Like we have no agency in the matter, like we're all helplessly in thrall to an unfriendly hall of memories just waiting to carry us backwards into a shadowy underworld. I think this is nonsense at least part of the time. Because if we have memory, are always "making" history, are always using desire to create something new, then we can also manipulate these "middles" to our advantage. To use an overused parallel - if you really deny the spoon's existence then you have agency over it, because thinking is making something so, no matter what fool says that it can't be. So it isn't that memory always "haunts" us, but that we get to have it, and live to construct our whole lives all over again, and have/be/experience something new all at the same time. 

All of which I think is pretty great, and (at least for me) takes the edge off just a little. 

I bid you peace. 

Yes, I'm Still Here...

Intermission Tavern, I have to get this off my chest before I can go any further in life: there was an enormous jungle-sized roach running up your wall. I know you gave us a free round of drinks, but that's not enough. Your burger (which I then ate with trepidation) was cooked well, and your appetizer was fine, but that does not mitigate the disgust of seeing this roach. We live in a modern world, filled with devices and chemicals for disposing of these types of pests. I cannot, in good conscience, recommend you as a result.  You can't even claim to be a dive, because your food is far too expensive for that excuse. If my burger is twelve dollars, I deserve better. 


Fix the problem, and I'll come back. You deserve a better rating. 


Now that's done. I have to apologize (again) for taking so long to post. I've been so consumed with writing this thesis-thing ("thing" might be the best word for it at this point) that I just couldn't bear to write more. Also, Facebook is the great time-thief. I've been recycling links, quotes, videos...practically anything I can in a vain attempt at procrastination. I swear that Go Fug Yourself helps me think. 


Anyway, its been so long that I can't even remember what I've made for myself in the past few weeks. All I remember is a caffeine-induced blur punctuated by words like "heteronormativity," "rhizome," and "deterritorialisation." I did make pizza for myself, and I remember that because it was delicious. This is my recipe for the dough.  I like it for a few reasons. It has a wonderful, easy to work with texture, it takes less time than most other recipes because it calls for a single rise, it can be put on the grill (perfect for the summer), and it tastes fantastic. You don't have to have a stone, though this makes for a far crispier crust. 


Now, for the toppings you can do whatever you want. I had some things lying around that I needed to use because I was going away for the weekend (more on that later). I had: bacon, sausage, spinach, basil, ricotta, tomatoes. I think I had some other things as well, but those were the basics. I crisped the bacon and cooked the sausage through before putting it on the pizza because I didn't want to rely on the oven to make sure it happened. It was great, and I want to do it on a grill before the summer is out. In fact, if you want to do some prep beforehand, you can do a pizza party with friends where they get to make their own pizza and you just grill it off for them. Add some good beers, or even some bellinis, and you have yourself a hell of a party. I've done this before, and everyone loved it. Just make sure you have all of your toppings (a pretty wide range) prepped ahead of time, and you can double (or even triple) the dough recipe. 


Speaking of pizza, I was away last weekend. I visited friends in New Jersey, but I stopped and met them in NYC before heading to the farmlands. We, of course, ate things while we were there, and I had my first example of NY pizza. For some reason, I had never had any in all the times I had been here. I get the feeling that this wasn't standard NY style pizza, but it was nevertheless totally delicious. We went to this place, and you'll see my review there as well. 


The slice of artichoke pizza (why would you get anything else?) is sublime. The rest of their offerings are just fine, but this piece of dough slathered in artichoke dip is, undeniably, the star of the show. Also, the crust is perfect for it. You need a strong base for this kind of thing, 
and the crust is well equipped in taste, thickness, and texture to handle the immense field of creamy artichoke goodness before you. My only complaint is that they only serve Budweiser on draft. But, since the area has tons of bars, you can definitely get your fix after you've conquered your slice (if you don't care for Bud, that is). Now, this isn't a gourmet experience. The artichoke dip isn't going to get five Michelin stars on its own. However, if you're out on the town for a few beers, this is the best. 


Now, I'm going to go down to Greensboro soon. This Friday, in fact. I'm so excited to leave and go to a place that has traffic laws and street signs that I can't even express it properly. Which brings up the fact that I'm driving. This summer, I've enacted a flying embargo. I just need my music, my little rental, and the road down south. I need to drive and remember that there are roads that can carry a person away from Boston, away from Tufts, and take me to a place where people miss me and want to see me. Not that people wouldn't miss me here, but I live here, and its not home. And I need a reminder that that's important.  Sure, this thesis is really important. But everyone needs a vacation. 


There are things I know I need to do while I'm there. For one thing, I need to sit in my favorite diner at 2 AM and eat totally delicious, cheap food. I need to eat some Barbecue, and I need to visit the Beef Burger and have, ironically, their veggie burger (the best in town!). I need to sit in my favorite bar, with my favorite people, drinking amazing local beer. Because, damnit, that's what home is all about. And, you know, I'll update the blog in between all of the awesome food I plan on eating and tell you all about the trip. 


That's enough for now. 


I bid you peace. 

The Things I've Made...

Lately, I've been a klutz in the kitchen. I've been ruining sauces, overcooking vegetables, and basically wreaking havoc upon my food. Apparently, I've turned a corner. Not surprisingly, the corner was turned at the end of this hellish semester (see last post), so I've had the time and foresight to focus more on cooking. Let me tell you about it. 


The other night, I made risotto. This time, it was perfect. More like a vegetarian paella than risotto, I made it with habanero pepper, lime, zucchini, onion, and a touch of curry powder. Surprisingly delicious. Risotto is about patience. 


Tonight, I made a simple pasta dish using lemon, basil, garlic, olive oil, caramelized onion, and cheese (aged gouda). Both meals were exceedingly simple and tasty, and took not more than an hour to make. I drank a Carmenere that I paid very little for, but was altogether very satisfying.   


Summer, as it turns out, is a wonderful time to cook. Light dishes are the order of the day, and we can bring a bit of variety back into the kitchen. I'd been getting so tired of root vegetables and bad produce at the store, that I had forgotten what warm weather can bring. And, while no one here will ever understand the joys of peaches from a peach stand in the middle of nowhere, there's still a lot of good food to be taken advantage of (even this far north!).  


I will regale you with more tales of food soon. But now, to bed! 

The Glory of Doing Nothing

Finally, and at long last, the semester is over. Literally, and without exaggeration, this will go down as the single worst semester of my academic career. I've had bad semesters before, but this one took the prize. Without my glorious Introduction to Acting class, I would have been lost at sea.  I'd have left without a by-your-leave, and taken up on a schooner bound for the Indies. Like you do, when things get bad. 

Now I am, as promised, drinking a Sauvignon Blanc on my patio on this most glorious of spring days. I would tell you which one it was, but I didn't really care for it. I got it from what has become the single most sub-standard wine shop in the Boston area: Grapevine Travelers. This place used to be decent, but then it was sold and the new owners clearly have no earthly idea about anything having to do with wine. I doubt they would know a grape if I put one in front of them. However, they are VERY close to my house, and this makes them tempting. Now, if you want some wine, you need to go to The Wine and Cheese Cask near Inman Square. Sure, its a walk from the T, but totally worth your while. They have a fantastic selection of wines, beers, liquors, and cheeses from all over the world. If I ever need, say, a bottle of Calvados or Grappe, this is where I go. I can't recommend the place highly enough. 

In fact, I love Inman Square (and its surrounds) because it is home to several establishments that I have sentimental attachments to. For one thing, Dali is wonderful, as is Bukowski's and the Druid. Christina's has great cheap ice cream (fuck off, J.P. Licks), and the spice shop right beside it is fantastic. If I could justify living in this neighborhood, I would, but I would be far less frugal than I am now. 

Now, there is some cause for excitement. The farmer's markets are nearly open! I'm very excited about this because, you know, I'm into the whole 'local food' thing, and I like the Davis Square market a lot. I'll have to let you know what I get, and where, and all that other goodness. Oh, and I'm going to make pasta soon. No really. Like within the next few days. Then I'll talk about it, and these roasted veggie sandwiches I made. For now though, I'm going to probably have another drink and relish the dusk. 

I bid you peace. 

Something Old, Something New...

I know, I know...I haven't posted in almost a month. Will I relieve your pain by posting all of my updates, reviews, cooking trials and tribulations right now? No. Will I promise to update by the end of the week? Yes. Am I being consumed alive by papers? Yes. 


However, it will soon be over, and I have promised myself not to work for a few days thereafter. During that time I will sit down with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and type my little heart out on the porch. Just for you. I will also cook some amazing and delicious things. Just for you. I promise. 

Dinner again...

So, enough of my philosophical musings. Let's talk food. 

I made dinner for four people the other night. I made: 

Risotto: Butternut Squash, Maple-Cured Bacon, Crispy Sage

Crispy Roasted Duck: Haricot Vert, Watercress, Vinaigrette

Two very simple dishes, but fairly tasty and easy to serve to many people at once. Boston in the Spring can be a bit chill, and I find duck and risotto to be optimal comfort foods. The key with duck is to let it roast for three hours on 250, allowing the fat to drain out of the skin through holes that you have poked in it. Then you raise the temperature up high (375) and let it get a little smoky (turn off the fire alarm) so that the skin crisps. I did some things wrong here, so learn from my mistakes. First, you have to turn the duck breast side down for those three hours. In my haste to get it in the oven, I forgot this for the first hour and not enough of the fat drained out. So, not crispy enough. Second, I couldn't make up for this mistake when I turned up the temp. because I allowed some of the fat to drip down to the bottom of the oven. That's a real problem, because duck fat burns at low temperatures, and smokes a lot. Also, you must have the duck directly on a rack if you don't have a proper roasting pan, or nothing will ever get crispy because it will roast in its own juices. Now, no one was complaining about the duck, but these are things that can be prevented. 

Risotto has a pretty good wow factor, partially because you can't make it ahead. If you have an open kitchen, you can mingle and make your risotto while your guests enjoy cocktails and marvel at your culinary prowess :) My risotto needed more butter and half and half at the end. This makes a world of difference. As it was, my risotto got a bit too gloppy, and much less smooth than I prefer. I also could have used a dash more stock at the end. You have to be careful about your stock, because if you use too much at the end you're going to come out with something like rice soup. If you use too little, you get the consistency of oatmeal. You have to taste it constantly to make sure you're going to reach al dente at the right moment. In short: simple concept, temperamental process. 

Now, if you want something that is easily made ahead, then you can make pasta. I make ravioli because you can roll it and cut it without the aid of a machine. That's probably my next dinner escapade. Honestly, I made so much of it not too long ago that I felt like I was becoming a one hit wonder and decided to move on to other things. However, like my defunct penchant for Lady Gaga, I feel like it might be a good time to bring back an old favorite. What should I put in my ravioli, dear readers? What delicious cheeses, vegetables, or meats can I shove into my protean pieces of pasta? Are ravioli sexy?  I welcome your commentary on this matter, as well as people willing to taste my culinary cornucopia. All right, I'm done with the alliteration. Seriously.

I bid you peace. 

Old News...

Looking over old papers, I found one from about two years ago, here in severely altered format. I was just getting out of school for the second time, and this paper was my final for the English Capstone course. Hopelessly confident and idealistic, I wrote it on ethical and moral contingency in Iain Pears The Dream of Scipio, a book I still return to even now to remind myself of my ethical process.  


Reading this paper again, I find I have become far more cynical in the past two years than even Iris Murdoch, who writes:  


"Good is mysterious because of human frailty, because of the immense distance which is involved. If there were angels they might be able to define good but we would not understand the definition. We are largely mechanical creatures, the slaves of relentlessly strong selfish forces the nature of which we scarcely comprehend. At best, as decent persons, we are usually very specialized . We behave well in areas where this can be done fairly easily and let other areas of possible virtue remain undeveloped...the self is a divided thing and the whole of it cannot be redeemed any more than it can be known" (Murdoch, The Sovereignty of Good, 89).


Now I'm a little older, a little less wide-eyed, this reads truer than it ever did before. Goodness, such as it exists, is a fragile and rare thing. I thought then that it might be all the more beautiful because it happens so infrequently. The question I ask myself now is again existential and spiritual, but framed very differently. Whereas in my paper I saw the Good as glorious because of its mysteriousness, as good because of its nearly unreachable place in the sun (see the Allegory of the Cave), I now see it as opaque and unattainable: a world of darkness punctuated only by haphazard flashes of insight and selflessness. How do we find salvation when so much of our capacity to do good is outside our control?

The only light I can find here is the same one that Murdoch and Pears find: we invariably sacrifice to protect and nurture the things we love (or think we love) whether or not that seems right. Now, often the thing we love is ourselves, or a figment, or an outright lie, but nonetheless it is nearly always out of a kind of love that we act. Does it suffice then, that we act on occasion out of love for the other? Is that enough to save us (and I don't mean 'save us' only in the protestant Christian sense, in terms of personal salvation, but more in terms of palpable communities and relationships)? I don't really know anymore. I know only that we could stand to talk about it more, struggle with it more, and stop being self-righteous about it.

To close, I plagiarize myself of two years ago:

"Presupposing a Platonic divinity, and thinking back on the influence of Scipio’s remarkable text, what is to keep the liberal-ironist from becoming disheartened by the implication that what an individual perceives as “the Good” may simply be the false reflection of the divine, or as also posited, the mistranslation of historical fragments? What if “the warmth and light of the sun” merely implicates us all in a lie of reflection, where all of our ethical and moral choices represent at least as much wrong as right (if not more)? At the end of the day, the ironists may find themselves racked by “resentment, fantasy, and despair. The refusal to attend may even induce a fictitious sense of freedom: I may as well toss a coin" (Murdoch, 77, 89).

If nothing else seems transparent, it seems clear that we can never afford to "toss a coin."

I bid you peace.