Sweat, Oil, and America

I woke up this morning, and for the first few moments of semi-awareness, when consciousness and vision were still fuzzy, as dry contacts rolled around to the front of my eyes, and lucid thoughts rolled around to the front of my awareness, I thought I was back home in Tennessee. The sticky film of sweat that covered my limbs, my chest, and my face was one that I had only ever experienced in Tennessee, during one of the summers when our air conditioner was broken for a few weeks, or when my parents decided to go without it.

It finally got hot here. For months the weather has been in an uncharacteristic (so I've been told) flux of really cold, then warm, then mostly cold, then kind of warm. The first two months I was here, in March and April, I probably wore my winter jacket for 60 percent of the time, and my other jacket for 30 percent of the time. On my second day in Germany, a snow storm hit Munich that would hold up for the better part of the next two weeks. Beautiful and unexpected at first, but the novelty of a half foot of snow in March wore off and melted away, as what was initially white snow became muddied, dirtied, and expected.

Every two weeks or so, when the biting cold would release its jagged winds, I would think of how I wanted to buy gloves. Nothing fancy, just a cheap pair of cotton gloves. Okay, maybe not cotton gloves. Leather. A cheap pair of leather gloves. If such a thing exists. But whenever I would mention this to someone, to whichever acquaintance I was with, I would be dissuaded by promises of quickly approaching heat waves that would mark the rest of the summer. I never bought them, which I suppose is just as well. I certainly won't be using them from now on. Although I did see a woman yesterday walking around the city in a thick leather mini-skirt. Now I'm not one to judge, but if it barks like a hooker and acts like a hooker...

This post unfortunately won't have any appealing pictures of food. This past week has been too busy for me to get around to playing with anything like that. I did have every intention of publishing a post around last Friday on these fried Eggplant slices that I made (the eggplant obsession will.not.stop), but I ended up curling up on the couch gripping my stomach, moaning dramatically just to hear the sound of my own pained voice (I was the only one home). I'm not sure if it was that I used to much oil (very likely), ate too many (also likely), or just because my body has become unaccustomed to fried foods lately (semi-likely). Needless to say, in between my stomach-clutching, moaning, and subsequent self-pitying, I did not feel very keen on taking pictures of the oil-soaked Aubergine. But don't fret, Aubergine. I still love you.

I spent the last seven days working on a presentation that I originally didn't think I had to give, realized that I did have to give it, and then realized that I would be the last person to present in my class. It was for my German class, and had to focus on two people who have contributed to society from my home country. I watched the first couple people present over the first few weeks, before remembering the words of my German professor in an e-mail, telling me that I would have to give a presentation and for me to send my notes and my slides to her once it was finished. Whoops. I told my German student-teachers, and signed up for a date a week away. Because about 60% of my German class is from the Ukraine, there really hadn't been a terrible amount of variety in the presentations. In fact, I think there were only two people who presented who didn't come from the Ukraine. (I'm realizing at this point that this post will essentially be a rambling of absolutely nothing of any value, so I'm gonna run with it. But I have more important ramblings, so this one is gonna have to cut to the chase.) Bottom line: I narrowed "United States" to "Nashville", picked Johnny Cash and Dolly Parton, made a 20 minute Powerpoint presentation, completely memorized my whole speech, presented, and it went flawlessly. It went so well that my teachers grabbed me after class to compliment me. Pats on the back for me.

I feel like I should issue a warning right now that my harmless little food blog is about to go into semi-political territory, and if any of my three readers would rather just enjoy my musings on garlic and lemons, then read no further! Flee to the hills and save yourselves!

WARNING: SEMI-POLITICAL MUSINGS TO FOLLOW

It just took all of the self-restraint that I could muster not to comment on a Facebook status update from someone that I went to high school with that I just saw. And not someone I was ever really friends with, so I don't know how appropriate it would be to point out how big of a...um....(the only adjective that I can think of starts with an "F" and ends with an "ing" and is not "filthy" or "finicky") idiot he OR SHE (politically correct) sounds like in that update. Anyways. The status update was "Reasons why Americans are laughed at: twilight, justin beiber, and obama."

Okay. Let's take care of the easy things first. Twilight. Fine, whatever. I won't throw up my hands and disagree. Moving on to Justin Bieber, who is um...Canadian. So I'm missing the connection. And the last point. I just don't know where to begin. "Reasons why Americans are laughed at: obama"... I'm not sure if this person has ever been out of the country (to a place that is not Cancun, Mexico), or if this person has ever spoken with someone who is not from the great land of Amurika.

(Trying to pick my words carefully....and go!) I didn't think that I would change that much by moving to Germany. I'm not completely sure that I have changed all that much. But there are some things that I've slowly been made aware of, that really change my perception of how I view the world. Okay, that may totally negate the "I'm not sure I've changed all the much", but a world perception isn't that big of a deal! Maybe it's because the country that we live in is so big, or maybe it's because we only have two neighboring countries, but the mindset of people in America is that America is the center of the world in absolutely every way, and that if anyone dare disagree, regardless of country of origin ("You're from Brazil and you DON'T think that America is the best country on earth?! What the hell is wrong with you?! What kind of bullshit are they teaching you in schools?!"), they're some kind of America-hating terrorist.

I kind of always figured that people in every country operate the same way, as in people from every country view themselves as the center of the world, more important than any other nationality, and somehow blessed by a generous God who deemed YOU personally worthy of living in this country. Well, go figure, this isn't exactly the case. In fact, it's not the case at all. And it's funny now that I think about it. Back when Bush was in office going about his whole...I don't even know what to call it...his whole little mission or what not, and the French weren't patting our back, flying "Go America!" banners, or singing our national anthem on cue, the reaction here was just incredible. I think that the pièce de résistance (definitely only realized the irony of using a French phrase in the context after I wrote it) was the whole "Freedom Fries" ordeal. I thought it was ridiculous back then, but I think it's horrifying now. The basic thought of that whole embarrassment was a proud and resounding "I don't give a horseshit what any of the other countries in the world think about America. We're right! Always have been, always will be! I'ma put a boot up your ass if you don't agree with it!" Bringing this whole rant full circle (at least semi-circle), to the dumbass whose status that started this whole thing. It wasn't Obama who muddied the image of America overseas. I'm sorry, but are you kidding me? Talk to any European over here, and they will tell you about how they, too, grew up idolizing America. But then in the 2000's everything changed. And the face of that change was George Bush.

I'm not trying to rip Bush a new one right now. That is irrelevant. I don't care if you supported George Bush or not, but the absolute truth is that it was George Bush who changed how the world viewed America. That is an absolutely unbiased statement. And half of our country was proud of that, and embraced it. So don't pretend now that Obama coming into office two years ago has negatively affected how people view America. If anything, the simple fact that we elected a black man will lift up our muddied image. Because in other parts of the world, women get elected to positions of leadership, gays get elected to positions of leadership, and GASP! even big, dykey lesbians get elected to positions of leadership.

But what I find so horrifying, is that here, people actually get that we live in an international world. I think that there are so many people in America who don't realize that. Of course, it's good to love your country (as I do), but patriotism should never suggest infallibility. Should we allow other countries to guide our policies? No, of course not. Everyone is playing with their own self-interests. But we must realize that the world that we are living is actively changing. I love America, I really do. With love comes responsibility. Like a friend who I love that I see err, I would give my advice, voice my concern, and help to solve the problem, and so do I follow these steps with the Land of the Free.

QUICKLY BACK TO (MOSTLY) NON-POLITICAL BABBLE THEN I'M DONE, I SWEAR

Okay, by this point, I assume that I have two readers left, and those would be my mom and dad. The others have either fallen asleep, gotten offended, or just were never there to begin with. Just want to wrap this up with some brief musing on the Oil Spill. (Groan, I know).

Last semester, I remember posting a status on Facebook making fun of the fact that I drove from my apartment to class, when the walk was under ten minutes. Yeah, real funny. Of course, I was poking fun at how lazy I was, and never had a second thought about it. Until this Oil Spill.

That statement that I made seemingly embodies the road that we have taken in the past forty years towards complete dependence on oil. This spill is nobody's fault in particular. It's a generation's fault. It's several generations' fault. I feel like this has also turned into a political musing right now, but I'm not exactly sure how it came about in America that caring about the environment became a liberal issue. It's not a liberal issue. It's a humanity issue. Is this oil spill the wake-up call that I needed to stop acting like I have every resource at my fingertips, taking two showers a day, washing clothes over and over again because they got wrinkled, and driving a distance that would have taken 5 minutes walking? It was a combination of the lifestyle here and the oil spill that awakened me. I haven't been back in America yet. I don't know if there has been an awakening there. I can only hope so. I guess I'll see in a month.

I SWEAR MY NEXT POST WILL BE FOOD-RELATED!!!!!!

Sin Wagon (Chicken Piccata)

There's a 70% chance I ate something from every vendor seen in this photo.

I fell off the Health Food wagon this weekend, and I fell HARD. I'm not sure that I was ever completely on it to begin with, but I certainly lost whatever holding I previously had. A little event rolled around this weekend in my neighborhood called Bunte Republik Neustadt, which was a street festival that lasted from late Friday afternoon until Sunday evening. Street festivals are personally dangerous to me for a few reasons, but there is really only one worth mentioning: I have such a weakness for food that comes on a stick, or food that comes in a little paper plate with a little fork, or food that just comes wrapped in a napkin. Street food. I love street food. In the same way that I love food that is served at graduation parties (is this an appropriate time to mention that I had an entire pig, cooked over a fire pit, at my graduation party?). For whatever reason, the appeal of that hotdog multiplies tenfold if I see it being sold on the street. I don't know if it is the raised prices, or the slightly stale bun, or the greasy, pulled back hair of the person working the booth, but once I get it in my mind that I want one, I cannot let it go. I'm just going to be blunt. I ate the following things at this street fest: a pack of sushi, stir-fried noodles, two egg rolls (which were really more like grease rolls, but I ate them), a piece of cake, fries, Currywurst, and then more fries. I was also in line to buy a crepe, but saw as I was about to order that they didn't have any cheese crepes, only healthier fruit ones. So naturally, I chucked up the peace sign and walked back to my table, shoulders hanging in self-pity. That was probably a sign from the universe that I had already pushed the limits of my gastrointestinal tubes to their absolute breaking point.

Double take. Did I just see...a University of Michigan flag? Heck yes, I did!

I wish I could say that I started this week off on the right foot. I had every intention to do so. Really, it's all a blur what happened this morning, but I know that it involved me purchasing both a ham-and-cheese croissant (Schinken-Käse Croissant) and a chocolate croissant (Schokocroissant) from the bakery before I went to class. The details are fuzzy, but I also know that by the time I got onto the train fifteen minutes later, both of them were completely gone, and the only bits of evidence left in Dresden, Germany of their existence were the flakey, buttery crumbs clinging pathetically to my facial hair, and a dopey, satisfied grin splattered across my face. I'll publicly maintain that I had intended on only eating one of them before class, and saving the other, but I think that somewhere deep down, that fatty inside of me knew that I would devour both like a bat out of hell, participating in an imagined croissant-eating contest in which I was the only participant. Whether I won or lost is up for debate. However, after I realized what I had done (chocolate-covered fingers were exhibit A), I proceeded to drink about a gallon of water. I have a scientifically unsound theory that I can drink massive amounts of water to cancel out the effects of greasy food. It's good; you should try it.

Faux moustaches really are all the rage at the street fest.

Recipe Commentary (Took a while, but we got here!)

So naturally, I don't want to shock my body too much by going too quickly back to health food. That just won't work. So I'm taking it slow with tonight's meal- Chicken Piccata. It's not exactly the healthiest preparation of chicken that I've ever seen (just like Megan Fox isn't the best actress I've ever seen), but it will just have to do! The truth is that I absolutely love this dish. It has two of my favorite ingredients- lemon and capers, and it is really hard to screw up. This was one of the first things that I made when I really started cooking last year, and I've made it probably ten times since then, and everyone really seems to enjoy it. It comes from my treasured cookbook from my favorite little Italian pixie-elf chef goddess, Giada de Laurentiis.

Yes, all these pictures are mine! (To answer the question of a loyal reader)

Normally, I would do everything totally by the book with this recipe. It has always yielded great results as such. However, I ran into a little snag along the way this go-round. Just before I started to get my cook on, my roommate came up to me and said that he had to film an interview in in thirty minutes in the living room/dining room/kitchen and asked if I would stay in my room during it. Uh, hello, do you SEE the capers in my hands? Capers mean business. Delicious, salty business. But of course, I consented. The recipe doesn't take thirty minutes. It's a quick recipe. However, I can't cook when I have a time limit. I like to be relaxed and take my time. But SOMEBODY saw to it that that wouldn't happen! So in a nervous frenzy, I was eyeballing all the measurements, squeezing lemons with my bare hands, tearing up parsley with my fingers, and never once allowing my sauce mixture to thicken. Needless to say, I wouldn't recommend this method if any of you decide you want to try this recipe on your own! Bottom line: love this recipe, has some great flavors, and I would definitely recommend it!

I'm such a professional food photographer that I leave wrinkles in my napkins.

Ingredients

• 2 skinless and boneless chicken breasts, butterflied and then cut in half
• Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
• All-purpose flour, for dredging
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
• 1/2 cup chicken stock
• 1/4 cup brined capers, rinsed
• 1/3 cup fresh parsley, chopped

Directions

Season chicken with salt and pepper. Dredge chicken in flour and shake off excess.

In a large skillet over medium high heat, melt 2 tablespoons of butter with 3 tablespoons olive oil. When butter and oil start to sizzle, add 2 pieces of chicken and cook for 3 minutes. When chicken is browned, flip and cook other side for 3 minutes. Remove and transfer to plate. Melt 2 more tablespoons butter and add another 2 tablespoons olive oil. When butter and oil start to sizzle, add the other 2 pieces of chicken and brown both sides in same manner. Remove pan from heat and add chicken to the plate.

Into the pan add the lemon juice, stock and capers. Return to stove and bring to boil, scraping up brown bits from the pan for extra flavor. Check for seasoning. Return all the chicken to the pan and simmer for 5 minutes. Remove chicken to platter. Add remaining 2 tablespoons butter to sauce and whisk vigorously. Pour sauce over chicken and garnish with parsley.

I might have licked the plate clean after this.

Broken Camera (Aubergine/Eggplant Spaghetti)

Aubergine and Knoblauch. Just two friends overlooking the city.

I've never cooked eggplant before. Hell, I've barely even eaten it. To be completely honest, I can't think of one occasion in which I actually have eaten it in my life. I'm sure there has been a time here or there, when it might have snuck up into some vegetable dish without my conscious knowledge. The only strong memory that I have of the eggplant goes back probably ten years, when my family and I were eating at Carabba's in Cool Springs and my mother ordered Eggplant Parmesan, which took about an hour to arrive to our table. So marks the first and only eggplant experience that stands out in my memory. Shame.

But my god, what a beautiful vegetable it is. That deep, shiny purple exterior and the soft, spongy light green innards. After cooking with eggplant for the past two days, I had a dream about flying to Holland (because apparently, that is where my dream self believes they are produced), seeking out an eggplant field, and just admiring all of the plants growing like pumpkins on the ground. The Google image search that I just did (Google is eating my liiiife) definitely just showed that they certainly don't grow like pumpkins on the ground, but it's a nice thought, and I think I'll just continue thinking that they do. You know, whenever my mind wanders back to the eggplant fields in Holland.

Fresh from the Hollandic fields of eggplant dreams.

The Germans over here borrow the French term for eggplant: Aubergine. Not to sound all ex-patriot and hochnasig, but I think I prefer the German/French term. It's such an aesthetically wonderful vegetable, that I don't think the earthy and humble 'eggplant' quite does it justice. So I'll just continue to think of it an an Aubergine. Technically, for the time being, I have to think of it as an Aubergine. The Chinese people who own the vegetable store don't understand me to begin with, and I think if I started yelling "EGGPLANT!" they would just send me on my merry way.

Basil trying to get all up in Garlic's bidnizz.

I feel like I should also briefly take my position on this public forum (oh so public, with all of my three views!) to mourn the unexpected and untimely death of my Canon Powershot digital camera. It led a long, happy life, coming into my world in May 2007, shortly after my Baccalaureate graduation ceremony. It has seen a lot of this wonderful, wretched world that we live in, and really enjoyed London and Germany. Where I come from, most cameras would die happy if they get to see more than drunky antics at frat-tastic parties, so I think it's happy it died after a fulfilling life. The tragic circumstances of its death involved the self-timer setting and a natural tripod (natural tripod being a dressed-up way of saying that I stacked a few books on top of my upright backback). I walked away to strike a little pose in the forest, and then, with my back still turned, heard the sickening crash as it all toppled to the ground. I looked around in horror. Because, let's be honest, NOTHING would have been more embarrassing than: A) onlookers watching me pose for a self-timer photo to begin with and B) watching my shanty camera set-up fall to the ground. After I determined that I was free from the burning glares of onlookers, I tended to the situation. Priorities.

Apparently, Rosmarin and Koriander didn't fare so well after I forced them to view the city.

However, this did give me an opportunity to buy a new camera. It has been a long time coming. It just chaps my ass (that phrase NEVER gets old) that I had to pay in euros instead of dollars. It's funny. It pains me to spend that much money, but it simultaneously feels so good to hand over that money to buy something. I felt like I was a recovering crackie getting a hit (hey, Whitney!). Oh well, no point in crying over spilt cameras. I took the opportunity to read up about the basics of food photography (NATURAL LIGHT!!!) and test my hand at taking some pictures of the new recipe that I tried. And the Aubergine gave me a perfect subject to photograph. That certainly took me long enough to come full circle, didn't it? Better late than never.

A smudged knife is just a knife that has been used with love.

Recipe Commentary (Finally)

Here's the recipe that I used. I copied and pasted it from The Wednesday Chef. I liked it so much that I made it twice in two days. I found that I didn't use as much pasta as the recipe calls for, so I might scale that back a little bit. The sundried-tomatoes are essential! I was really hesitant buying them. It was €5 a jar. And the exchange rate isn't exactly in my favor. I can buy a t-shirt for that much (but won't, because I'm mending my spending way). But either way, it chapped my ass (again!). However, I'm glad I spend the extra chump change, because the flavor of these really enhanced the flavor of the dish, and I'll be able to use them for a while. Other than the tomatoes, all of the other ingredients were incredibly cheap. I already have some basil and thyme growing, and always have about 23 cloves of garlic handy (the REAL nectar of the gods), so all I had to buy was the eggplant/Aubergine and spaghetti. Guten Appetit!

Sometimes, things that are really oily can be good! Not faces, though.

Aubergine Spaghetti

1 pound eggplant, cut into ½ inch slices

1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

3 cloves garlic, lightly smashed

2 springs thyme or oregano, chopped

1 cup chicken stock or water

2 tablespoons sun-dried or oven-dried tomatoes, minced

6 leaves basil, sliced thinly

Salt and pepper

1 pound spaghetti

1. Lightly salt the slices of eggplant, stack them back together and let sit for 20 minutes.

"Lightly salt" to me is basically a license to kill.

2. Put the olive oil in a wide, heavy saucepan, add the garlic cloves, and set over low heat.

3. Dry off the eggplant, cut it into chunks. When you start hearing the garlic sizzle a little and can smell it, drop in your eggplant and stir to coat it all with oil. Turn up the heat a little bit to medium high and add the thyme or oregano and stir. When the eggplant is turning translucent and softening, add the liquid, let it come to a boil, and turn it back down to medium-low. Let it bubble for a bit and cover it, leaving a crack for steam to escape. Stir once in a while so that the bottom doesn’t stick.

Beautiful and translucent, just like a cheap candle.

4. After about 20 minutes or so, the liquid in the eggplant pan should be mostly evaporated and the eggplant should be soft and melting. Mash it with a fork or spoon, and adjust the seasoning to taste.

5. Toss the eggplant purée with the spaghetti that you cooked al dente. Stir in the minced tomatoes and basil. You can gild the lily with drizzling on some more oil. Serve immediately.

My brown mush is deceptively delicious and appetizing!

21st Century Descent

As I write my first post, I can't help but think that my descent into the 21st century is all but complete. Never the first to jump on any of the technological bandwagons, but always eventually coming around, here I find myself today, having just clicked "Apply Now" to the generic background of my Web Log. I've gained a forum for creativity and lost a bit of my soul thanks to Google. They now technically own 45.8% of my soul (Blogger, Google Reader, GMail, GoogleTalk, GoogleDocs, and YouTube). It would have been an even 50%, had Google Buzz not been such a bust. Oh, damn. Google Maps. I forgot Google Maps. They own 47.9% of my soul.

With the pieces left of my salvaged soul that the internet gods have afforded me, I decided I needed an outlet of some kind. I'm not too creative. I can't play music. I can "play" Buckley/Cohen's "Hallelujah" on the guitar, but it's really only impressive if the audience is drunk, tricked into thinking that my fingers move with more fluidity than they actually do. But I'm completely okay being the non-musical minority in Music City, USA. I'll just come to shows, listen, and not judge you musicians as harshly as your musical counterparts might. Be thankful for my musically-talentless existence!

Let's cut to the chase. Do I think anyone is going to read this? No. My parents might (I hear Colleen's computer skills have been excelling at breakneck speeds). A couple friends might. That will probably be it. I definitely won't be showing off this little dog-and-pony show until I at least get it looking decent. And by looking decent, I mean littering with pictures of food that I've been taking lately. Finally, I come to the whole point of this Web Log. Food.

I love food. I love to eat. It is probably my favorite thing to do. I've always loved watching Food Network, and would sit in front of the TV for hours (I wish I could write 'minutes' to save some dignity, but that would be a lie, and it just doesn't sound as good...Either way, I blame Rachael Ray) and watch Food Network, without ever actually cooking. However, within the past year or year and a half, I started testing my skills out in the kitchen. It hasn't always been pretty. Probably 25% of the time things don't turn out quite as I expect. But I'm learning. And trying new things. And absolutely falling in love with everything about food. The ingredients, the smells, the knives, the pots and pans. Everything.

And so here I am. Cooking, learning, writing, and living. And Google-ing.