I feel powerless in the face of senseless violence. Tragic news of the Newtown school shooting starkly reminds me we do not live in a safe world and a few selfish violent people among us can take away all that we love and cherish. I long to hold on tightly to my loved ones and do not let go. It is merely a game of chance that we do not fall victim to such horror.
I seek solace in the kitchen. Holiday baking suggests spreading cheers and somehow that does not feel quite right. However, just using my hands to create something tasty lightened the heavy feeling in my heart. My mind was distracted momentarily when all that mattered was making sure the cookies turn out successfully. I chose to make biscotti, something that I’ve only baked once in my life back in culinary school. Biscotti is an addictive treat to me but I absolutely loathe to make them. Every time I pick up a biscotti recipe, I have visions of the half-baked log crumbling to dust when I slice it to individual pieces.
There comes a point when baking becomes too easy. The right tools are available at my fingertips.The pantry is well stocked with quality ingredients. My hands are skilful enough to tackle most recipes with ease. I have a wealth of reliably delicious recipes to turn to. When baking feels so easy, I volunteer to bring treats to get-togethers at every chance I get. All I want is to cover my world, floor to ceiling, with cookies and cakes.
This may sound like great news at first but really it is not. Even though I have more than enough self control to resist stuffing my face with sweets 24/7, I am not sure my friends and family need the parade of sugar and fat. Saying “thanks but no thanks” is not a snub! We can still be good friends! I know exactly what makes dessert taste so good and moderation is absolutely essential.
I’m too lazy to watch movies. In the rare cases that I do, my choices are not you would consider sophisticated. Mass market blockbusters that tug at viewers’ emotion with little subtly? Sure, sign me up! I watch most of my movies while sweating away on a treadmill without sound anyway. I am not picky.
At my women’s only gym, cooking shows and Hollywood romantic comedy share equal airtime on the television screens. Shows from both genre are frothy and forgettable. Do I pick up useful baking technique from watching Cupcake War? Do I learn how to host dinner party from the picture perfect set of Ina Garten’s East Hampton kitchen? Do I figure out how to lose a guy in 10 days? Or do I come to the conclusion that love can overcome amnesia? Oh and so the cynic prevails.
There are exceptions, of course. Nancy Meyers’ Something’s Gotta Give is among one of them. Seriously, I can watch the courtship between Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson over and over again. All the while, soaking in all the little details of the beautiful set (Hamptons! New York! Paris!) and cooking references. Everyone is entitled to some guilty pleasure, right?
Birthday is a big deal to me. I get so hyped up about the occasion that I have been known to do a month long countdown to the big day. One year my parents got so fed up that they sat me down and told me “it’s not about you all the time sweetheart”. After that, I learned to dial down my excitement in front of other people. Secretly, I still anticipate birthday with bated breath.
Since this is my blog, I have license to be as excited as I want. I already made plans to spend the day in Berlin at the world’s biggest inline skating race. There is plenty of time for me to fret and dream about this upcoming trip. Today I suddenly remember a childhood treat I enjoyed at my birthday parties long ago. I requested for them a few years in a row and my parents indulged my sweet tooth. I did not think much about it when I was young but my adult mind now tells me it was not a usual treat.
Take a step back with me and imagine that you are a kid in British colonial Hong Kong during the mid 80’s. Your home is a high-rise apartment inside a fire station headquarter by the harbour. The intermittent fire alarm is your soundtrack to playtime. You look out the balcony and see the fake building for firefighting rescue drills. Some days, the fire engine would reach its long ladder skyward with water spraying out to the building. Some days, you see groups of shirtless firemen playing volleyball at break time. Top Gun flexes its muscle in cultural influence as much as the guys flex theirs.
The joy of cooking for close family is that they understand. They understand that not every meal is spectacular. They understand that I experiment in the kitchen. They understand that a meal doesn’t necessarily need to impress. They understand that sometimes I throw random ingredients together and the result may be surprisingly scrumptious if we’re lucky.
Weekend is the time Little Brother and I share our family meals. Those are often busy days so preparing a meticulous supper over an afternoon is not the norm. Instead, I have an arbitrary challenge for myself to put food on the dinner table within an hour. This definitely calls for quick recipes using whatever ingredients I can easily reach. Welcome to the strange world of fusion home cooking.
I am in disbelief that I no longer have outstanding appointments with any physicians or therapists. The last six weeks I accumulated a whole drawer full of medical bills and a calendar circled with scheduled visits. I am trying to ease my life back into the daily grind of training. Discipline I have plenty but concern for relapsing concussion symptoms looms. Last weekend, I trained “too hard” and paid the price on Sunday. It was most unpleasant and alarming at the same time.
Chatter about the upcoming US elections is steadily growing louder. Just reading the discussions among my Facebook friends of various political leanings makes me realize the big chasm that exists. It used to be said that politics and religions should not be part of polite conversation. In cyberspace, few things are off-limit and it is almost voyeuristic to observe how my friends and acquaintances feel about such personal issues. Being one border crossing removed, I rarely jump into the fray. However, issues such as healthcare, women’s rights, gay marriage, and education strike a universal chord. Even as a casual observer I am becoming more aware how strongly I embrace my core values.
I am embarrassed to admit that I like shopping. My gender disposition ought to give me a free pass. However, as computer programmer and athlete, many of my girl friends turn up their noses at such traditional stereotypical activities. Shopping is for girly girls and we ought to engage in much more intellectual or athletic pursuits. Sorry girls, I love beautiful things and they don’t just land on my lap serendipitously.
The simple act of aimless browsing can be divisive and that is why I prefer to shop alone. I don’t necessarily have a specific item to look for but when I see something I particularly love, the discovery is akin to unearthing a treasure. Obviously I am highly interested in kitchenware and my recent find of Hello Kitty cake pan proved just that.
I spent last weekend in St Paul / Minneapolis. The reason for the visit was an inline skating race. Those who are keeping tabs on my concussion recovery, I skated. Despite missing six weeks of training, I crossed the finish line in very respectable time. I received a conditional clear all from my physician this week and the hard work of mounting a comeback has begun. Spending a long weekend at the Twin Cities gave me an opportunity to explore the little neighbourhoods that give the city its flavour. I found these etched beech wood mini spoons from local company Talisman Designs. I saw their cheeseboards and salad servers before but the diminutive size of these spoons (think ice cream spoons) with the little bird is absolutely adorable.
It’s been a month since I got concussion and progress has been slow with occasional setbacks. Cutting down my typical training load of 10-12 hours per week to zero is challenging in many ways. I’m obviously getting out of shape and lacking that regular dose of endorphin rush is making me more susceptible to the scary D word. Given the ridiculous amount of cooking and baking I do to keep myself busy, some friends ask if I’m putting on weight. The quick answer is no. The pudginess that was bugging me while I was racing in Germany is gone. I’ve lost 8lb since and at my ideal hill climbing weight. Except that I think it is mostly lean muscle weight that I lost.
When the going gets tough, my appetite takes a vacation. The initial weight loss was brought on by overwhelming changes in my personal and athletic life. I’m more or less numb by those changes now but the appetite hasn’t return. A couple of weeks ago, I was a bit disturbed to return from a trip to the farmers market and great foodie neighbourhood empty handed and empty stomached. I’m a bit paranoid about eating and food simply did not look appetizing to me.
Today I share with you my secret to bribing for affection with baked goods. This is derived from years of experience and through rigorous testing. It may seem calculating and insincere but I prefer to think of it differently. If I am putting in the effort to bake you something, I may as well optimize the effort by going for something to impress and to be appreciated, right?
Let’s first go through the don’ts. Unless you’re intimately familiar with the taste of your subject, don’t go for adventurous. Sweet & salty? Nope. Bacon? Nope. Unusual ingredients? Nope. I’m not saying that you’re baking for the lowest common denominator. It’s just that I prefer a sure bet. Don’t need to go for fancy either. Comfort food is familiar and tugs at the heart string with ease. Don’t be frugal with ingredients. Use the highest quality ingredients you can afford and the result will speak for itself.
Of course, the most important question is what to bake?
It was an emotional trip to Whole Foods last night for my weekly groceries. Out of old habits, my attention was involuntarily drawn to all things cherries. It didn’t help that cherry season is kicking off and there was a huge display of glistening red orbs. For the last three years, I had been keeping my eyes out for interesting and tasty cherry treats and stocked my pantry with dried sour cherries because that was ex-boyfriend’s favourite food. My freezer was never without a precious stash of hand-pitted sour cherries so I could bake the ultimate treat, a flakey juicy cherry lattice pie.
All the cherry chocolate, cherry granola, cherry cookie, cherry juice that I laid eyes on last night only taunted me of hurt. While my heart was never far away from searching out things that he would enjoy, the relationship already slipped away from my grasp long ago. I don’t want to be eaten by resentment but I can’t help feeling like a complete idiot all along. If this is part of the natural progression of grieving, I hope it’ll be over soon. For lack of more eloquent description, it sure sucks big time right now.
I am not a fan of this woe-is-me mentality and I believe that surrounding myself with beauty is my path to healing. You can’t argue with the beauty of fruit harvest at the height of their seasonal best, can’t you? So despite a sad trip at the grocery store, I picked up some gorgeous Bing cherries to make Cherry Clafoutis.
