London Baby!

So I know it's been a long time, but, I kid you not, things have only just begun to calm down since Peru.

Peru was, indeed, one of the most amazing weeks of my life - this doesn't mean it was easy. I did not get Dengue you'll be relieved to know, but I did get altitude sickness. The first few days in Cusco I couldn't hold down even the Cocoa tea the locals drink to combat the thin air up in the mountains. It wasn't a pretty sight. Anywhere I went I sounded like an asthmatic and really the only thing that could bring me out of my lightheadedness were the cute baby llamas hiding throughout the city.

Once I started to feel more like myself - and my stomach didn't feel like an active volcano - I gave Cuy a try. It was actually pretty moist and tender, but I still found myself kinda peeved. My travel companion and I, along with a couple dutch guys, sat down and braced ourselves. The waiter came out and made a neck snapping gesture. We looked at each other and laughed nervously. Shortly afterwards our guinea pig came out, hat and all.

I wasn't sure how to go about eating it, but I did - I even ended up trying the brain which tasted like a soft-boiled egg. Even though it wasn't bad, I don't think I'll be having it again any time soon...

On the other hand I also tried Alpaca steak, which was AMAZING. We went to this wonderful restaurant Uchu simply because our hostel gave us a coupon, and it was one of the best eats of the entire trip. Our meal was brought out on a hot stone for grilling with four different sauces for quick marination. Not only was it delicious it was interactive, and just what we needed after a 24 hour bus ride. It was so tender and moist I was able to quickly look past the fact that I was eating a really cute animal.

The last place we ate in Cusco and our cheapest eat of the trip was at the Mercado Central de San Pedro. We had four meals because everything was 5 sols or less which is about 2 dollars. The market was not for the faint of heart but if you can handle a little grime then you can enjoy some of the best sopa and arroz con pollo in Peru - just be sure to avoid the butcher section unless you don't want to sleep for a week.

I could go on about Peru for a long time, but my point was that the trip left me physically and emotionally kaput. After three months of rest with my family in California I finally feel like a human being again.

Right now I'm in London and to make up for lost time I'll be posting pictures of my good eats all week. Follow me on instagram at feedmenewyork! Be prepared for fish and chips abound.

Peru Bound

My best friend and I just purchased our tickets to Lima, Peru, and now I have negative 7 dollars in my bank account (thanks hulu plus.....no sarcasm intended, I LOVE YOU HULU PLUS). BUT, it is all okay, because I'm dreaming of fresh ceviche on a warm Lima day and the chilling mist of the Incan ruins, Machu Picchu (and llamas! / will be reenacting The Emperor's New Groove BRB)

What I am not dreaming about, however, is an interesting array of things I didn't think of till last night really: pirhanas, suffocating altitude sickness, food poisoning, eating cuy (aka guinea pig).

Though I'm probably never going to say, "yum I love me some fried guinea pig" if the chance arises to try it, I'm going to have to take it.

In reality, all the things I'm kind of dreading, I'm also kind of excited about. I mean, if I'm going to get altitude sickness anywhere, I don't really have a problem with that being at one of the 7 wonders of the world. And so long as I stay out of amazonian rivers I think the pirhana's are avoidable. However if Piranhas 3DD taught me anything, they might come up the toilet. Looks like I'll be peeing in a bottle.

Ice Cream, Cupcakes, and Whipped Cream (ALL HOMEMADE!)

I was craving sweets this week, and since I'm on a tight budget - saving to go to Machu Picchu in the spring - I haven't had the money to run out in the middle of the night and buy cartons of Hagen Daas or several dozen chocolate bars like I normally would. Instead, I've been making all of my stuff, after I get home from work at around 11pm to midnight, and then not going to sleep until... never.

On sunday, I made my go to Devil's Food Chocolate Cupcake recipe by Martha Stewart. The secret to the deliciousness of this recipe is the cup of sour cream you add at the end. The tanginess counteracts the overwhelming sweetness of the 3 sticks of butter, 3 cups of sugar, and cocoa powder, and creates a delicious but not overly decadent chocolate cupcake, and trust me, if it weren't good I wouldn't continue to make it. I'm not that into chocolate sweets - brownies, cupcakes, etc. - so it's a miracle I even like these.

I'm positively terrible at making frosting. I don't know what it is but every time I try, it ends in disaster. For these cupcakes I made whipped cream instead because... 1. It's super easy and 2. you can eat it straight out of the bowl and not feel nearly as guilty as you would eating frosting straight out of a carton. I put it on top of my cupcakes, on top of my fruit, on top of my hot cocoa, and on top of my spaghetti (well... not yet).

Finally to finish off my trifecta of sweets, I made homemade vanilla ice cream with my new ice cream maker! Of course, I did not do this the same night I made my other goodies because I mistakenly forgot to put the ice cream bowl in the freezer a day in advance, which, BE WARNED, is absolutely necessary. Just always keep those puppies in the freezer. When you finish making ice cream, scoop it out, put it in some tupperware, wash out your bowl, and stick it back in the freezer, or you will regret it!

Making the ice cream was not easy, even though every article I read and every youtube video I watched said it should be. They made it seem simple enough for a monkey, which means I am simpler than a monkey. I locked the bowl into the machine, put the mixer upright and inside the bowl, topped it off with the lid, turned the switch, and.... nothing happened. It wasn't until fifteen minutes later that I realized I needed to reset the switches in my apartment and that I had in fact been doing everything correctly. When I finally got it working, the bowl had defrosted too much and the ice cream would not form. So I stuck it in the fridge and finished it with my additional frozen bowl when I came home from work.

I didn't want to take any chances, so I just made simple vanilla ice cream. When the ice cream finally formed, it was still to soft to eat, so I stuck it in the freezer and when morning finally came, I hopped out of bed like a kid on christmas - at 6 in the morning - stuffed my face with ice cream, and went to bed with heartburn. My mom is sending me vanilla beans, so it will be fancier the next time I make it. No pictures of the ice cream today, it went to fast, but rest assured, I will be making a lot more.

XOXO Fat Pig.

Frying Everything

We're Americans, so therefore we must fry everything. So I did.

The day before I left California after my short return, we decided to use my mom's year old deep fryer for the first time. I wanted...

1. To test my mothers limits in seeing what she'd let me fry

and

2. Fry anything and everything I could afford.

I spent hours prepping the following.

-Twinkies
-Oreos
-Cheese Sticks
-Potato Chips
-An array of tempura vegetables
-wontons

How does it take hours to prepare twinkies for frying you might be wondering? Well actually unless you want the twinkie to disintegrate upon hitting the scalding oil you have to freeze it. They come out looking like corn dogs, and tasting half baked in a bad way. The cream inside soaks into the foamy walls around it, and what makes a twinkie traditionally great is no longer there.






Maybe if I had used real twinkies that wouldn't have been a problem, I will never know though now that they're off the market. It's a sad day when the knock-off brand becomes the only brand; it was Little Debbies Cloud Cakes or nothing.









The oreos turned out just as good as I remembered them being the first time I had them last year at the street fair in Little Italy. I like oreos well enough on their own, but for some reason, when they're fried they become positively sublime. I rolled the oreos around in some pancake batter and dropped them in the deep frier for a good couple seconds, and poof, a foolproof treat and a sin to human nature. Also, it was vegan! (jk not really, used egg in the batter)

The cheese sticks did not work, at all. My guess is because we didn't follow a recipe, we just blindly dusted them with egg yolk and breadcrumbs and dropped them in the deep frier. I had a feeling potentially viscous cheese could cause a hazard when placed in excessively high temperatures but I didn't say anything, regrettably. They melted upon contact and we fished out - and ate - what we could. The rest stuck to the metal grating of the basket, and for all I know is still sitting there waiting for my mother to clean it out.






The potato chips were so freaking good, and so were the tempura and the wontons. Things I regret about this experience? NOT FRYING MORE! I wanted to fry pickles, and coke (not cocaine, Coca Cola [yes it's a thing]) and really anything in our fridge, because if you put your mind to it, YOU CAN FRY ANYTHING and EVERYTHING.

Another thing excessive frying taught me; the grease in the air is exhausting. Within ten minutes of frying I was ready for a nap. I could never work at a fast food restaurant; however I have no problem eating at them so I wish to take this moment to express my eternal gratitude to those who do work there. THANX.

For Christmas, I got an ice cream maker, and a dutch oven. Imma be up in the kitchen cooking up dem stews and mixing up dat ice cream. More soon, leave comments, LOVE YOU ALL ( - belated christmas joy)


 P.S. Extra special thanks to Christine Jackson for taking such noiice pictures.

While I Still Have Power...

Posting from Long Island, the last few days have been weird. Not hard, just weird. I've slept far too much, and eaten mainly fried chicken and cheese fries. I guess maybe I should point out that a few days ago we were in the midst of a hurricane, but it didn't really feel like a hurricane - it was just really windy - until all the lights went out and I started to cry like the spoiled 21st century child I am as my last bits of phone battery dribbled away.

Just for the record, I didn't actually cry, but I did when I realized I'd forgotten to bring a book and the only book my aunt and uncle had was some Chelsea Handler crap, and it was not good (hence the crap).

I'm dying to get back in the city, mainly because I miss fried rice. Times like these really make you appreciate the tuesday evening you spent at the KuKu Canteen, eating kimchi fried rice, and then they make your mouth water, especially when the book you're reading mentions chocolate far too often. School is cancelled till the end of the week - like some weird fantasy the weather has granted me a week long vacation - but how can I enjoy this time off if I can't stream ROMANTIC COMEDIES.

Also it's Halloween, not that anyone here really cares.

HAIKU TO MY CURRENT STATE OF MIND

Didn't sleep last night
Have a glass of so-so wine
momofuku soon


P.S ^ that's why I'm not a poet.

No Reservations, No more

I saw this on Bon Appetit's website and hesitated before posting it. It looks like I'm mourning Anthony Bourdain, but he's not dead and he's not dying. It's just that his show has finally (after a long ass time - like 10 years!) come to end. I know, shows end everyday - well maybe not everyday - and it really isn't that big of a deal especially since I haven't even seen all of the episodes, it just feels like there is this big gaping hole in television without Anthony Bourdain. Hope someone fills it soon. Anyways I recommend reading this, I really enjoyed it. And you get to see an old picture of him! Anthony Bourdain on Bon Appetit

People Actually Read Me (I think/hope)

I said I write a food blog and my new roommate knew of it, even though we've never met before, and even though we aren't Facebook friends.

Thanks for the pressure world! Now that I know people are actually out there, actually enjoying (does this assume to much?) what I have to say about food, I feel this weird obligation to keep writing posts and when I ignore it, it actually kind of stresses me out.

I have a new - old - kitchen now. No more touch screen microwaves or dishwashers, but as long as we keep the counters clean the cleaning service (yes I have a cleaning service) will take care of the mess.

I get a paycheck on Friday and my aunt is coming into town this weekend. Trying to think of somewhere yummy to take her that isn't 7eleven and isn't two bros. Maybe Max Brenners? We'll see! More to come.

p.s. sorry for lack of photos

p.s.s my blogs anniversary is in a few days!!!

So, I'm the Worst

I broke my new (Jewish) years resolution already, but the last couple weeks have been extremely tight. Im having flashbacks to my hungry days in Brooklyn constantly but haven't yet resorted to eating slurpees.

It's too cold for slurpees now anyways. Summer stopped by to say goodbye a couple weeks ago and like a second cousin or that aunt you aren't actually related to, I imagine we won't be hearing from him for many months to a year.

I also haven't been cooking as much which is just breaking my heart. I learned that I can't expect eating in to be cheap if I feed fifteen people nightly. So when I do start making money again, I'll be sure to cook delicious food for myself and myself only. The rest of the world can just be jealous.

On another note (a mostly unrelated to food note), I saw Lena Dunham this past Sunday. She was participating in an panel hosted by the New Yorker festival. It was all amazing but my favorite part had to be the free apple cider donut holes. Even better when I walked up to the snack table I asked the server how many I could have and he said, "As many as you want." THAT'S CLASSY

I promise promise promise to post more about food soon!

When Your Feet are Covered in Butter

Tonight I made brown sugar pound cupcakes - a martha stewart recipe - to drown out the anxiety that my theoretical employer is causing me. I was told I work there but do I actually ever work there? No.

It was a good thing I was in the mood for homemade whipped cream because my sad attempt at making a browned butter frosting resulted in a spill which now has me sitting on my couch avoiding doing my homework because my feet are all buttery and and I can't really concentrate when they feel like this.

Will I clean them?

Probably not.

P.S. I used the whipped cream as frosting.

Doughnuts and more

I have been eating A LOT lately. I'm missing the days when I was starving in Brooklyn - sort of - because now I'm just starting to feel like a fattie. Sure I haven't been spending as much on eating out with access to my kitchen, but this same kitchen is allowing to me to eat 3 square meals a day (and on most days, many many more.)
I try to keep the meals I cook healthy, since I'm eating so much, but it gets pretty exhausting. Some days I wake up and just want to stuff my face and not have to work for it.

For example: Yesterday morning, my roommate and I were woken up by our stomachs, which weren't growling but rather yelling at us. The small part of me that's frugal was chiming, "make pancakes" but the hungry and lazy part of me - my stomach - was shouting "BUY DONUTS," which is what we ended up doing.

We walked down 23rd street past the creepy Chelsea Hotel where Nancy Spungeon, was... um...you know... by Sid Vicious, and onto 7th Ave where Doughnut Plant was waiting to change our lives (FOR REAL). Though new to us, Doughnut Plant has been around and innovating the Doughnut eating experience since 1994. You may think it's hard to get the doughnut wrong but that doesn't stop Dunkin Donuts from doing it every day. After awhile I'm just really sick of buying a dry, crusty, glazed donut or a jelly donut with strangely stale jelly.

With all this in mind I went into Doughnut Plant tentatively. The doughnuts were and are a little pricey-$2.75 to $3.75 for all doughnuts on their menu - and I wasn't in the mood to be let down. We ordered Dough-seeds to start. When we opened our bags and looked inside we were a little disappointed with the size of our food - not much bigger than a donut hole. This was going to have to be impressive. They were amazing. I took a bite and my knees went weak. My dough-seed was flavored orange blossom and my roommates raspberry. We'd bought them to split but when I was about to ask her if she wanted a bite, I realized I had none left to share. Filled with a light frothy cream it implodes in your mouth so gently and blissfully you're left wondering what exactly happened to you. This wasn't enough, so we ordered two regular sized doughnuts and went home feeling pregnant.

Of course that didn't stop us from stopping at Mcdonalds where we picked up fries and were almost charged for a refill on BBQ sauce. It's only a matter of time before I send in my application to the biggest loser.

P.S

HAPPY JEWISH NEW YEAR. I may not be jewish but that doesn't mean I wont take up an opportunity to try (and probably fail) to make a new years resolution. If I don't fail though you will start to see weekly posts from me, so GET EXCITED!

My One Exception

Ice cream is my one exception. Even when I'm sticking to my budget - buying only the absolute bare necessities - ice cream sneaks its way in and makes me a little bit happier... and a little bit fatter.
Today I stopped at Van Leewun's Ice Cream Truck (a wonderfully cute little counterpart to their equally cute main store http://www.vanleeuwenicecream.com/) after an interview that I hope went well at one of my favorite stores that starts with an A and ends with a pologie ( and no it's not apologie). I bought earl grey tea flavored ice cream and then walked home from Union Square because, I LIVE IN MANHATTAN AGAIN AND I CAN DO THAT.
This is my apartment:

AND THIS is my KITCHEN:


Needless to say, I'm obsessed with both of them/never leave my apartment/have become a hermit. In actuality though I've been cooking up the wazoo, and between the two film girls living here and the two theater girls living here the constant influx of gay men puts us practically on the same level as Ina Garten ( well maybe not quite, but we're getting there).

This weekend I'm going to a food fair - should be interesting for more reasons than one
(AKA I HAVE A DATE)

Yum Mum (again)

So yesterday I stopped by Yum Mum on St. Marks after work again, thinking maybe I'd try something other than their coveted pork belly. When I walked in the two women working the counter recognized me as "the very enthusiastic pork belly girl" and asked me if I was there to order the "emperor" again. Not knowing what this mysterious "emperor" was, I came to discover that this is their very appropriate nickname for the pork belly over rice dish. I ended up getting the street style noodles with minced pork belly which was a nice switch up and great with the chili sauce. Can't rave enough about this place.

NYC does ITALY

It's been almost two weeks since I landed in Dusseldorf, Germany for a layover and here I am today sitting in my bed - in my hotel room that smells like fish - typing away at my little blog that I have neglected so absentmindedly over the past few months, just as I would if I were in New York. Has nothing changed? No! Everything has changed! My feet have touched ancient soil, and, frankly, I will never be the same. I spent my afternoon wandering Roman Ruins barefoot. Everyone else had shoes on and everyone else was looking at me and my bare feet enviously ( or skeptically, who's to say really?). Of course when I thought Italy, what initially crossed my mind was not these haphazardly maintained decadent towers and arches, or the aching cobblestone streets, or the rain that I thought I had left behind in  New York; it was the food and the food only that I fantasized about in the weeks proceeding my adventure ( that, and maybe a man or two).

Unfortunately my journey began in a food lover's nightmare. Venice may promise gondola rides and the relaxation of reverberating sea tides, but it does not promise food. Most restaurants my grandma and I ate at served undercooked pasta, fish, and risotto to us, with one exception; we called it the Flying Fish, so its actual name evades me, but it was a restaurant a couple blocks from our hotel. More chic than the surrounding tourists traps, we were served a sumptuous bowl of scallop mushroom risotto; risotto cooked to perfection - each pearly little grain of rice finding a home in the crevices of my mouth. Unfortunately it was followed by a liver dish, which I don't have much of a taste for yet - working on it though! Though it was pricey, what isn't in Venice? I'll research that restaurant some more to provide actual details.

Human nature took us south down towards Florence, golden and buried in the Tuscan region it is - as I have grown up my whole life hearing - the "birthplace of the renaissance". Which makes it all the worse that we didn't get around to seeing Michelangelo's David. But as I have firm intentions on returning there, this doesn't worry me. SPOILER ALERT: Florence was by far my favorite Italian city. Not just because of several Lizzie McGuire-esque adventures I happened to have, but because of the general splendor of the city and its fabulous food. Not wanting a repeat of Venice, I did a little research on Florentine restaurants. We found most of our good eats around the Santa Croce Piazza. Our first expenditure was a little place called Ristorante Boccadama ( http://boccadama.com/ ), and not only was it our first eat in Florence it was our first truly good eat in all of Italy. Just so you know, a clue to which Italian restaurants will serve true Italian food is the bread; if you get stale bread or crackers, RUN. Anything less than moist, crunchy bread, promises pasta you could have made better. At Boccadama we ate under a canopy in the warmth of dusk watching and shooing as pigeons landed near our table on the piazza. I was sipping my white house wine (another tip: when in Italy order the house wine- not only is it generally cheaper it's also usually pretty good) when the waiter came by with one of my favorite meals of the trip.Roasted chicken in a creamy mushroom sauce. It was so good we had to go back for a second serving.

After Florence we headed to Rome. Rome reminded me so much of New York, I'd almost given up on it when lo and behold the Colosseum, the Pantheon, and the ruins took me by surprise. I'd almost completely forgotten they existed which made this trip all the more exciting. It was in Rome as well where I was reminded that Italy is the home of truly great gelatto... well maybe not all of Italy but certainly the Old Bridge Gelateria ( http://gelateriaoldbridge.com/en/). I'd been spoiled by Amorino, and was disappointed with most of the gelatto I had while in Italy, but this stuff blew even Amorino out of the water. Sure they don't turn your gelatto into a flower but why bother when everyone is stuffing it down their throats too quickly to notice anyways. It was so smooth and creamy I might as well have been eating butter, but much sweeter and much much colder. The only downside to this place, is there's a line out the door - but if you're sociable you'll make friends through your shared anticipation of glomming on such a perfect creamy and cold treat for any hot Italian day.

p.s. not in Italy anymore! France blog to come!

Doing Boston

I'm passing through Rhode Island by train looking up stuff to do, but its really hard to read while running on two to three hours of decent sleep. I, ignorantly, thought, "oh I'll just sleep on the train," forgetting how difficult it always was to sleep on the train the last two years of high school. So I'm gonna do boston like a jackass; hopefully find my way to the Liberty Trail and successfully navigate their flawed subway system. My aunt always says-at least once every time I see her- New York was built by mathematicians and Boston was built by drunks. We'll see if my exhausted conditions coincide with the confusing structure of the city, or if they prove to be hopelessly combative. This should be interesting - more later.

Porchetta and the Greatest Thing Your Eyes Will Ever Eat

A couple weeks ago, my roommate and I went out and had an odd number of experiences jumbled into one eccentric friday evening. We nearly successfully recreated this evening several nights ago. We started our night drinking in the comfort of our dorm while simultaneously karoaking very loudly - I'm sure to our floor mates dismay- the Beatles, Queen, and probably a little Selena Gomez (can't really remember). We left in time to just barely catch happy hour, and then we stumbled around the east village until this "little piggy" caught our eyes(cue drum roll for my perfect pun) 

Porchetta (http://www.porchettanyc.com/). Small, sweet, and hidden in the most obvious place - New York City. Duh. Though we were reluctant to spend ten dollars on a sandwich from a place we'd never heard of, especially while kind of intoxicated, we took a leap of faith - to be trite - and bought what turned out to to be a moist, soft, and delicious representation of pork. I, for one, am not particularly good at preparing pork -it usually turns out tough- or finding good pork recipes so I tend to try to avoid the fiend entirely. This, however, was most definitely an exception. Stuffed between two crunchy and well toasted slices of bread, the decadent roast pork was seasoned with what I detected as fennel - another thing I'm not so fond of - but not overwhelmingly so. Enough that although we weren't entirely surprised by the taste, we were intrigued and given an incentive to continue eating. I will undoubtedly be finding myself back there sometime soon.

The next restaurant was certainly different. We came across it during our original adventure so I won't pretend like it was some magical portal we discovered for the first time the other night; but it certainly is a magical portal. Quoting the restaurant Panna II(http://www.panna2.com/) it is where "chili pepper lights meets christmas lights." This quote is an understatement. Walking into that restaurant is like operating on a piñata. As you sit at your table you almost forget that you're eating. You become mesmerized by what looks like fireworks at very close proximity. The lights are not meant to deflect from their food. Their food could stand alone - its good Indian food, not amazing and not revolutionary - but their food is not why a line of people stand in thirty degree weather waiting for a seat for an undetermined amount of time and its not why it can't help but fill up to capacity every weekend. The picture can only convey so much and honestly I think its only a matter of time before New York City recognizes this spectacle as a national monument. If you don't plan on going to any restaurant besides Applebees - if you can even find one - during your stay in New York, at least make it down to to this hot spot in the frigid east village.

Well I think I've done enough rambling for tonight. Tomorrow I'll be picnicking in central park. More to come.

To Eat Ice Cream, or to Not Eat Ice Cream, Can That Count as a Question?

Internal struggle. Should I head over to Sundaes and Cones in the pouring rain or walk up to a dining hall and eat a salad. The choice is obvious, or is it?

I'm already feeling kind of guilty, for a number of reasons:

1.It's been a long time since I've posted anything and I'm sure everyone is dying to/dreading to hear from me again.

2.I never eat vegetables anymore(but can you blame me? dining hall vegetables usually consist of seventy percent oil, thirty percent vegetables)

3. I ate a pound of pad thai... again.

It was Valentine's Day, and I am happy to say that I have the greatest Valentine a girl could wish for. MYSELF. I'm kidding of course, so to douse any lonely regrettable feelings I had, I indulged and ate a pound of pad thai from suzy's in what felt like ten seconds, but I'm sure was much shorter. So now I'm feeling guilty. I haven't worked out in two weeks and my fat and I are throwing ourselves a lovely little pity parade, I only wish you could be there for it.

Valentines Day actually wasn't that bad. I ran by CVS first thing in the morning and bought two boxes of Spongebob Valentines, most inscribed with the following, "Will you be my matey?" I then proceeded to give them to the kids at the elementary school I tutor at, who in return gave me a piece of brownie that tasted like playdoh. I ate it nonetheless. When I got back to campus I snuck soup into one of my classes and afterwards took portraits of my friend for another class. She looked quite stunning really, I would post a picture but she wasn't dressed as food... Anyways when I finally got home I opened the V-Day Care Package my mom sent me only to find, that it was filled with CANDY AND WINE. Best mom ever? I think yes. I'm sorry I don't have any particularly exquisite cuisines to talk about, but as soon as my budget increases I promise there will be more posts. I'm back baby and fatter than ever.

p.s. I got a new camera!

Hiatus

Good morning new york, or should I say... you know I honestly don’t know what to say. Maybe its because I’m bleeding onto my second consecutive day with absolutely no sleep - yep I did it, I pulled an all nighter ( my first by the way) - and I’m feeling nauseous and disoriented because I’ve lost my glasses. I feel like a little blind mouse, or  even all three of the blind mice. My personality has been raging from absolute lunacy to more subdued and anxious to just plain stupid. Most of the time I think I’m just plain stupid and I blame this on the fact that that I haven't gotten more than three hours of sleep collectively since I got back from Canada three to four weeks ago, or whatever. 

Most of the time I wish I was still in Canada, especially as I was illegally sipping cheapo wine from a thermus that smelled like coffee before a David Sedaris reading back in NYC. David, I love ya and absolutely nothing against you, but It had certainly been a long week; one of many. With wine I’ve been eating cheese, in the comfort of my dorm. Eating out has become less of an option since I dropped the bomb in Canada. While there I climbed a mountain and then treated myself to a poutine - a delicious conglomeration of well seasoned frites (fries - I’m practicing for my french final can you tell?) covered in gravy cheese curds and whatever topping you desire. We ate fries, asian food, and crepes throughout the entirety of our trip dousing it with legally purchased biere rousse ( red beer ). There is something so entirely perfect about being able to drink legally, especially when its good cheap beer. Drinking red beer felt like, to quote my roommate, sipping amber.

Anyways, back to the point, which is that I can’t afford anything because of how much I spent in Canada. SO, I’ve been cooking. AHA, she cooks, I know thats what you are all thinking - all four of you - and yes its true. I do cook when I have the time. My uncle works at Trader Joe’s so periodically I’ll get a gift card in the mail from him ,which is always a nice surprise, and then i’ll go and purchase some tender, salty proscuitto and lace it over a finely picked cantaloupe like ribbon on a blonde baby’s head, or make a pesto pasta and top it with strip steak cooked rare. 


I guess thats why I’m excited to go home, I’ll be leaving today and as much as it saddens me that I’ll be away from the delicacies of New York for five whole weeks, I’m also incredibly happy that I don’t have to eat cafeteria food for that duration and I’ll be able to cook more often. I suppose I’m entering a hiatus, but maybe you’ll get lucky and see some of my own creations soon. Anyways, bye for now New York. You’re one hell of a heartbreaker, but I can’t help but love you anyways. 

Amore

Love is in the air. Or something, but not really. It isn't spring time its fall time, as the constantly shedding trees of Washington Square have made very clear to me. I'm dying to go out there and make a leaf pile but the lawns are currently closed due to seeding. I don't really understand why they've decided to seed the lawns now given that its only a matter of time before the grass quickly recedes back into the ground under the icy grip of impending snow.

Anyways, back to the love, or the lack thereof. How the holidays procure so much joy from us during such an unforgiving season baffles me, I'm beginning to think its a hoax. The temperature doesn't stop me from eating ice cream though. In California, when I was younger, we'd go to a yogurt place called Golden Spoon (http://www.goldenspoon.com), but only when it was forty degrees or below and raining sheets. Why? Why lower our internal temperature as the weather proceeded to do the same? No lines, no wait... same prices...but whatever. Im finding that I've begun to continue that tradition here.

This last week for a class I've been working on a group project. After our first meeting we stopped by sundaes and cones a sweet and delicious and not that expensive treat. After six hours of auditioning and recording it was gelato we indulged in, a little expensive and entirely worth it: Amorino (http://www.amorino.com/en/). Hell, we deserved it. I've been once before and while it was good I wasn't about to spend six bucks on the tablespoon of gelatto I'd originally gotten again any time soon. But as the flavor of the month shot up I found it harder and harder for myself to resist, and I'm actually sticking to my measly budget now! In case your wondering, thats why my posts have dwindled to once a week if I'm lucky. Their flavor of the month is, I'm not going to pretend like I know what the italian name for it is, but it was some sort of mascarpone (a sweet italian cream cheese kind of spread; good for desserts) and fig cocktail of perfection. So good; all of their flavors are.  They've arranged it so that when they style your ice cream into a flower on a cone, every petal can be a different flavor, which sounds great in theory but all the flavors melt together and though they still taste good the impact of each individual ice cream is lost. My suggestion: get one to two flavors max, and definitely get the mascarpone (before its too late!)
p.s. thanks to spencer for being such a fab model

Francophone Interests...

Daylight savings time, the preliminary to winter and depression. It's coming, we know it is. For now the orange and red and golden leaves glimmer under the dusky afternoon sun but soon there will be no leaves and no dusk, only the the darkening of our sensibilities under the luminous grey clouds.

What I need is a vitamin lamp - I'm not actually sure if thats what its called but I know there is such a thing and it provides you with sun vitamins: i.e vitamin d. Or I just need to drink more milk or something high in vitamin-ey goodness. or I just need to drink more wine. I'm thinking my best bet is with the wine unfortunately its expensive and illegal...for me at least. I wonder if there is an injection you can get to give you wrinkles so you'll look older, wiser, and less susceptible to being carded. For now I'm guessing either no this does not exist or it does and its more expensive then any illegally purchased wine I've invested in. For now I think I'll stick with wine samples. On saturday I fruitfully tasted several really delicious wines, the first a bubbly non carbonated twice fermented concoction that tasted uncannily like champagne, the second a flatter version but the flavors all the same, and the third a heavily alcoholic syrupy fluid, good for pouring over five ingredient vanilla bean ice cream, as the lady at the booth pointed out. I smiled and nodded dropping a dollar in the tip jar before scurrying away, in fear of being asked for my ID, down into the subway.

That morning I'd left my dorm with the intention of spending a day in central park, maybe stopping by Ladurée for a minute or two to buy a couple macaroons. What it turned into was a mad dash up and down ten blocks and an hour and half wait for five macaroons; and it was completely worth it. As the store pulled  up into view I ferocioulsy joined the line that was curving down the block, just behind a little dog in a fur collared leather jacket and a perplexing group of french people, who snarked repartee back and forth like no one could understand what they were saying. It wasn't so much what they were saying that offended me, rather that they had the audacity to come to New York just to visit Ladurée. Didn't they have their own in the motherland? Hadn't they always?

Once inside the store, I illegally snapped some photos - my second crime of the day - inciting a series of snapshots from behind me and the eventual overhead shouting of the man at the cash register demanding we not take photos. Once at the front of the line, my inner turmoil of whether or not I should have bought a six set of macaroons just to get the cute box or go for the significantly cheaper option of five macaroons without a box came to a climax and I walked away with five extra bucks and no cute box. With a meeting quickly approaching I didn't have time to relax in the park or even taste a macaroon and an hour later, sitting in the library I took a bite into the delicate, crumbling texture of a raspberry macaroon. It dissolved under the heat of my tongue and the tiny little seeds of the raspberry jam tantalized the grooves of the roof of my mouth. I proceeded to eat a caramel macaroon, which was a little to thick and sweet - not enough contrast of flavors - and a pistachio macaroon which was needless to say, perfection. Oh so nobly I sacrificed my two other macaroons to my colleagues, so for now I cannot know the the wonders of the two other flavors I purchased. woe. is. me.