Mmmmm.... food

Proof that the best food is made at home:



That is chicken tagine with apricots and topped with glazed almonds by Herr Wimmer. I made the salad, which was spinach, romaine hearts, tomatoes, cucumbers, and hard-boiled eggs tossed with a blackberry vinaigrette.

And now? We get to have blackberries, peaches, blueberries, and raspberries covered in honey and cardamom. Yay for summer.

Update

I'm alive. And emerging from the cocoon of work and the apartment to start the law school application process. Which is also when, paradoxically, I decide that I need to hang out more with the friends I haven't seen in a while. Maybe to counterbalance all the dreariness that writing a personal statement (ew) will generate.

Unfortunately, actually following through on all the plans I'm making depends on how well I'm feeling on any given day, and lately, I haven't had very many good days. Rare is the day that I don't have one of the following: a migraine, a stomache, or nausea. But I'm going to see a doctor about all these symptoms, so hopefully I'll feel better soon (or get an artificial stomach or something).

In other news, do not watch a movie about pedophilia and childhood trauma before bed because oh my god, bad dreams.

In current news, I'm working on my personal statement under the influence of energy drinks. Uh, any insight you may have into why I should go to law school and/or why I rox0rs would be very helpful. Danke.

I can't believe it's been over a month since the last entry. Sorry about that. Moving and cleaning and craigslisting for furniture has kinda eaten up the last three weeks of my time.

But now it is spring, our new home is mostly furnished (see below), and a long lost (to the vagaries of Washington, D.C.) friend is in town. All of which is to say that the drudgeries of moving and of the relentless rain have finally let up, and it's time for eating and drinking with friends, farmers' markets, frolicking in the sun, and reading books again. I'm ashamed to admit this, but since Nick Hornby's Polyphonic Spree, I have only finished three books, Howard's End and two light fantasy books. I am still in the "middle" (more like the beginning) of Anna Karenina and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, but neither feel like springtime reading. Any recommendations, fellow bookworms?

I have to go to the symphony, but I leave you with the promise of a post dedicated solely to all the wonderful food we've made recently.

Why do we do this to ourselves?

We're moved into our new place. Well, mostly moved in, and mostly unpacked still. Next time we're doing this, I'm getting movers. And selling my unwanted books beforehand.

Pictures later.

The End of Sport

As in, both the Olympics and my arduous, plodding journey through Nick Hornby's Fever Pitch. Now begins my foray into The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy. Having seen the movie already (which you all should toally go see, too, if only for the moment that made Elliott hide his head behind my shoulder), it makes reading the book easier, already having a picture of the characters in my head. (Note: I am not always this lazy of a reader, but Tristram Shandy doesn't matter all that much to me.) What I really, really want (cue the unfortunately appropriate song by the Spice Girls) to read right now is Howard's End, but alas, I have yet to find a good used copy (Forster deserves better than an old library copy.) Meanwhile, I feel like I'm trying to satisfy a hunger for pad thai with spaghetti and hot chili sauce.

Speaking of food, here's what we--okay, fine, Elliott's been up to in the kitchen.

In my defense, phagia also means just "eating"

Since I finished On Beauty, I have completed a total of... one book, Nick Hornby's Polysyllabic Spree. I have attempted more books than that, of course, but I just couldn't bring myself to finish the horribly written one about the time traveling man, and I'm still working slowly through Horby's Fever Pitch, which is really, really about football. English football, about which I know nearly nothing. But now that I've read more than half of his oeuvre, there's a compulsion to finish it.

So in lieu of reading more books and writing about the ones I've read (the joint goals of my blog), I've been cooking. Granted, only on the weekends when Elliott is here, but it's such a time suck. For example, it took me three hours to make beef stew yesterday. It turned out really well, though. See?





And tonight I made creme brulee again because it's a really simple dessert. (Of course, I've been feeling under the weather this entire weekend and dunno if I really want dessert anymore.) Elliott, um, attempted meringue puffs. Let's just say that he broke a pastry bag. We'll see how that turns out.

But the point is, I've been busy while not reading. Really.

Oh, gastronomic bliss!

Elliott and I had our first grown-up, prixe fixe dinner at Chez Panisse last night. The menu included:

Green garlic soufflé with leeks and Parmesan
Monterey Bay squid stuffed with greens and herbs; with paella rice
Grilled Sonoma County Liberty duck breast with dried cherry sauce, warm escarole salad,
pancetta, and duck livers
Candied kumquat and Page mandarin ice cream Pavlova

It was the best meal I've ever had in a restaurant. The food was excellent, of course. The souffle melted on the tongue; the squid trumps Delfina's calamari; and the duck was a perfect blend of crispy skin and savory pink meat. None of this was surprising to me, of course. The birthplace of Californian cuisine can do no worse. What was surprising and delightful was the restaurant itself. The downstairs part of Chez Panisse only spans the length of two large rooms, but it seems bigger because the walls are covered in semi-reflective bronze-colored sheets of metal, which also warmed up the space (something much appreciated last night).

The meal was probably also the most leisurely one I've had in a while. It was almost 11 by the time we had dessert (we had an 8:30 seating). There's something of a relief in letting someone else dictate what you should eat and when you should eat it, especially if that someone's a chef at a world-renowned restaurant.

All in all, not a bad showing for our second anniversary.

Keeping Track

My goal this year, in terms of reading, is a simple one. Remember what I read. Write down my thoughts on the books and short stories I read.

Sounds simple, but as I've already found out to my chagrin, I can't even manage to accomplish the first part of my goal. Elliott (boyfriend extraordinaire) has already had to remind me that I just finished The Year of Magical Thinking.

A list of books I've read so far this year:
1. Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov.
2. The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion.
3. Mairelon the Magician by Patricia C. Wrede.
4. Magician's Ward by Patricia C. Wrede.

These will have to serve as placeholders while I cobble the paragraphs that are bouncing around in my head on numbers 1 and 2 into something coherent. Meanwhile, I'm composing yet another essay on academics and marriage in Zadie Smith's On Beauty, but first, I should probably finish the book.

Lastly, Happy New Year, everyone who celebrates it!

test. test. test.

she tastes like the real thing.