(no subject)
Bustling about the apartment these days in a frenzy of folding and sweeping and rolling and rising. I'll be in full on domestic goddess mode if I make marmalade. I saw Seville oranges in the market the other day, and I'm tempted to buy some and freeze them for the next cold and empty afternoon when nothing seems more appealing than boiling, shredding, and stirring those lumpy, dingy orbs into cloudy amber gunge. Tonight I'm making alfajores, those dulce de leche filled Peruvian sandwich cookies, for a friend's birthday. The dulce de leche is done--just out of the oven, the heat makes it taste sour, barnyard-y in the best way beneath the carmel sweetness. The dough is chilling in the fridge, the little brazil nut shards sawdust and delicious. Rather than rain forest the overall effect is Urwald: as I roll it out, I've been imagining blackbirds and all the little things that squeak and sigh in the underbrush. Not a jaguar or a macaw in sight.
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Friday is dinner with some department friends. I sometimes like winter and the early gloom and mole-blind nights. I thought I'd give into the dark, heavy unchic-ness of the season and make something mushroom-ed and carraway-ed. Kasha perhaps or blini with lox. Matzoh balls even. But I can't give up culinary tourism and I'm making crepes filled with ratatouille sauce to go beside fish in chermoula and little flat breads stuffed with spiced onions. I haven't decided on a dessert yet. I don't like chocolate after fish and anything filo-wrapped and syrup-soaked seems too fey and insubstantial for subfreezing nights. Ice cream, just perverse.
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Amid all this my dissertation.
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Friday is dinner with some department friends. I sometimes like winter and the early gloom and mole-blind nights. I thought I'd give into the dark, heavy unchic-ness of the season and make something mushroom-ed and carraway-ed. Kasha perhaps or blini with lox. Matzoh balls even. But I can't give up culinary tourism and I'm making crepes filled with ratatouille sauce to go beside fish in chermoula and little flat breads stuffed with spiced onions. I haven't decided on a dessert yet. I don't like chocolate after fish and anything filo-wrapped and syrup-soaked seems too fey and insubstantial for subfreezing nights. Ice cream, just perverse.
***
Amid all this my dissertation.