My roommate Sierra is cooler than me. It's just a fact. She's in the know about, seemingly, everything. So when she proposed that we combine our evil powers and contribute a food/music themed post to the exceptionally awesome Tadpole Audio blog, I was flattered. And I said yes.
So here's our second post! In honor of Cinco de Mayo (it's never too early to start usurping a culturally significant holiday and turning it into a day of excessive drinking and silly hats - St. Patrick's Day what?!), I make the buttery, caramelly and all around addictive Alfajores and Sierra makes a playlist worthy of your next trip to Cabo. Even if it's only a mental trip. Check it out!
(The first post went unheralded around these parts, because I, umm, forgot. Yup. Maybe that's why I am not cool, or in the know - because sometimes I don't pay attention. But you should read it, here.)
It's been a while since I've posted anything of substance, so I thought I'd give a little roundup of what's going on at the Noms Away headquarters.
Life at the Giant Corporate Cooking School is going along swimmingly. We're moving from lean yeast doughs to rich and laminated doughs (croissants, danishes, ect.). I haven't screwed up too badly, although I have screwed up. Note to self, if the butter block you're incorporating into dough is a square shape, then the dough itself should be squarish instead of amoeba.
In other news, I have been on a quest for pho and am being thwarted at every turn. Yes, I know that the truly amazing pho is in east LA, but I live in west LA and already spend too much freaking time in my car. Besides, there's completely acceptable pho in west LA. First I went to a place that had online reviews rating its pho only to find out they hadn't served it in a year. (Side note: a fried egg sandwich will not cure your craving for pho.) Next I ended up at a place that had pho but not pho tom (SHRIMP!!). So I got the house pho which was beef, beef balls, brisket, steak, tripe, and tendon. It was okay, but not exactly what I had been craving. Finally I got to a place that had pho tom and indulged in a huge bowl. It hit all the right notes and I left satisfied. So much so that when I woke up Tuesday with a scratchy throat and a queasy stomach I knew exactly what would cure me. Post class I fought traffic and drove directly there, visions of noodles and steaming broth sustaining me.
Sometimes I forget how early I get up and how early it still is for the rest of the world when I get out of class. 10am is well within business hours but arguably early for lunch. Pho is a breakfast food though! Too bad the restaurant didn't agree with me. CLOSED. And I realized this after I fed the meter for an hour.
I try really hard not to get pissy about stuff like that, shit happens. But feeling ill, going out of my way... There may have been tears.
There's a cute little Korean food/tea place near my house, and they also serve ramen. Which isn't pho, but it fell within my craving for sickness banishing broth and noodle goodness. Since I was going to have to pass it anyway, I popped in. After I read the menu and decided on what I wanted and got my hopes up, I was informed that they were closed for another half hour. I was nice to the lady behind the counter - she's just the messenger after all. But there were definitely tears in the car.
How badly did I need some form soup curative? I stopped in the corner market and bought two packs of Nissan's Oodles of Noodles. Yes, the noodles of 1000mg of sodium and with nothing natural in it at all. And I paid $.89 per packet, which is like 5 times what you would normally pay for that.
I don't regret it. I may have bought two more, just in case of emergencies.
So my epic week of epicness is over. It's back to early morning wake up calls, long drives, and cookies for breakfast. I may need an intervention on the last one.
You know what's sick? I really missed it. Well not so much the waking up and being out of bed by 4am, but the rest of it. Part of it is that I've-done-something post class glow. (And it gives my schedule more structure, which is something I've spent my adult life avoiding but is strangely liberating.) Which is kind of b.s. because I did a ton of stuff on my week off. I went hiking three times, stand up paddle boarding once, to tea twice, to the Rodarte exhibit at the MOCA. And that's just the stuff I left my house to do. My living room got re-imagined, my bedroom is sort of clean, I started a wild yeast starter (and a second dorky blog about it: dough-verload.blogspot.com), and - of course - there was baking. I actually start to get twitchy if I go more than a few days without sticking something in an oven.
Maybe it's being able to hide behind doing something that is socially acceptable. It turns out that other people have a hard time sharing in my happiness and that my facebook updates regarding my epic week of epicness were somewhat off putting to some of my "friends". Oh, nobody said anything to me personally. Why would they? We don't live in an honest society, but one bound by social niceties. Which in this case is fine. What would someone say anyway - I'm a petty, jealous asshat who can't stand that you're not a miserable cesspool of self-loathing like me? I get it on some level; I am certainly personally acquainted with the green eyed monster myself. But even in the depths of my depression, I could appreciate and genuinely be happy for something wonderful, or even something good, happening to someone I love. And I have a big, stupid heart. Despite my prickly exterior, I really and truly love a lot of people.
It bothered me more than I'd like to admit, to hear that someone I consider a friend would begrudge me any modicum of happiness I've found. A year ago - and I say this without any hyperbole or melodrama - I couldn't see the point of anything. I was beginning to question why I should keep taking up space at all. And then I decided to go for broke and found something I am passionate about, something fulfilling, something that does indeed make me happy. It's not like I have the lion's share of happiness in the world, people. Me being happy does not take happiness away from you. And I am certainly not without fear or worry. Yeah, my rent is paid this month, but acquiring 30k worth of debt and being marginally employed does not make for the rosiest of financial outlooks.
But after a full 24 hours of mulling this over, I have come to this conclusion: I'm saddened by it, but I accept it and this ultimately has no impact on my life at all, so I'm kicking it out of my brain. My ego was slighted but my will is not. And I'll still have love and affection for the asshats (having been one myself for so long). As the Buddha says,
Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.
I suppose adding so suck on that haters would completely defy the point of any of this. Damn, this compassion thing is hard.
