Do you like to play parlor games? I play them in my head all the time, which now that I admit this, gives the impression that I am easily amused, wildly creative, or extremely lonely. You choose!
I got the idea for this from Eden Kennedy at Fussy, who did a things I do not like post this week for nablopomo. I imposed a few rules on myself, because boundaries are a good thing. Because it is so often easier to be negative, for every item I dislike, I had to come up with something I do like.
To my surprise, I had to come up with negative things to balance the positive, not the other way around, as I would have expected. Look how far I've come!
Things I like
waking to the sound of falling rain
cream in my coffee
the arctic monkeys
walking
uttanasana
silence
salty sweet
lipstick
hot hot baths
being upside down
dinner parties
Things I dislike
cilantro
duwop
almond extract
minivans
brad pitt
running
nuts in baked goods
sea urchin
sponges that have not been sufficiently rung out
Philadelphia
white pepper
05 November 2009
04 November 2009
Slinging hash: chocolate pudding
Sacha has become very interested in cooking lately. I'm glad to see him taking an interest, but alarmed whenever he pulls his chair in front of the lit stove and shouts, “CAN I HELP TOO?” I'm trying encourage him and keep him alive by making things he can help with without putting himself in mortal peril, that he'll actually want to eat, and don't make too much of a mess.
I'm sure you can guess which of these two of these criteria chocolate pudding satisfies. It's been said thousands of times that corn starch based puddings aren't any harder to make from scratch, and taste far better than a mix, but that doesn't make it any less true.
We've done this together a couple of times lately, and have a system worked out. I measure dry ingredients, and Sacha dumps, something he excels at. Then he helps me add the milk, and we argue about proper stirring technique. I suggest we go in a circle, and Sacha counters that we should go up and down, as if we were churning butter. And that's where it gets a bit messy, and I get a bit exasperated, and pull rank by taking the whisk away from him.
But he makes up for it by amusing me with his taxonomy of dairy. I often use a combination of 1% milk and cream for pudding. As we pour the milk into the measuring cup, Sacha explains, “This is the milk.” Last time, I finished off the remainder of a pint of cream and opened a quart. “This is cream,” he said, and we poured from the pint. When I opened the quart, he declared, “And this is coffee milk.”
That's my boy.
Chocolate Pudding
adapted from Gourmet
1/4 cup cornstarch
1/3 cup sugar
3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 cups milk, preferably whole, but 1 or 2% will work, as will a combination of milk and cream
4 oz chocolate chips
Whisk together cornstarch, sugar, cocoa powder, and salt in a 2-quart heavy saucepan. Gradually whisk in milk. Bring to a boil over medium heat, whisking constantly, then boil, whisking, 2 minutes. The mixture will thicken as it cooks. Remove from heat and whisk in chocolate chips and vanilla until smooth.
Pour pudding into a bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and chill until cold, least two hours. If you are anti-pudding skin, press the wrap directly on the pudding.
Serve with whipped cream.
I'm sure you can guess which of these two of these criteria chocolate pudding satisfies. It's been said thousands of times that corn starch based puddings aren't any harder to make from scratch, and taste far better than a mix, but that doesn't make it any less true.
We've done this together a couple of times lately, and have a system worked out. I measure dry ingredients, and Sacha dumps, something he excels at. Then he helps me add the milk, and we argue about proper stirring technique. I suggest we go in a circle, and Sacha counters that we should go up and down, as if we were churning butter. And that's where it gets a bit messy, and I get a bit exasperated, and pull rank by taking the whisk away from him.
But he makes up for it by amusing me with his taxonomy of dairy. I often use a combination of 1% milk and cream for pudding. As we pour the milk into the measuring cup, Sacha explains, “This is the milk.” Last time, I finished off the remainder of a pint of cream and opened a quart. “This is cream,” he said, and we poured from the pint. When I opened the quart, he declared, “And this is coffee milk.”
That's my boy.
Chocolate Pudding
adapted from Gourmet
1/4 cup cornstarch
1/3 cup sugar
3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 cups milk, preferably whole, but 1 or 2% will work, as will a combination of milk and cream
4 oz chocolate chips
Whisk together cornstarch, sugar, cocoa powder, and salt in a 2-quart heavy saucepan. Gradually whisk in milk. Bring to a boil over medium heat, whisking constantly, then boil, whisking, 2 minutes. The mixture will thicken as it cooks. Remove from heat and whisk in chocolate chips and vanilla until smooth.
Pour pudding into a bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and chill until cold, least two hours. If you are anti-pudding skin, press the wrap directly on the pudding.
Serve with whipped cream.
03 November 2009
It's going to be a long day
It turns out that my powers of resistance are weaker than I hoped. Toward the end of last week David caught whatever non specific viral illness the children had, while I remained unscathed. This was somewhat unusual because David has a freakishly strong immune system, and I am normally the one to fall ill. I felt a bit left out for missing the sick party, but I wasn't going to complain.
But it turns out, my timing is impeccable, because now we are in Maryland sitting shiva, and I have taken ill. And so while everyone is at my sister in law's house, I am at my in-laws shivering with a fever of 102. And now I have what every mother desires; a quiet house to myself, a day alone, with no obligations. And yet I'm lonely, because these were not the circumstances under which I had hoped to get it.
It's going to be a long day. I am awaiting a delivery of rice pudding and trashy magazines.
But it turns out, my timing is impeccable, because now we are in Maryland sitting shiva, and I have taken ill. And so while everyone is at my sister in law's house, I am at my in-laws shivering with a fever of 102. And now I have what every mother desires; a quiet house to myself, a day alone, with no obligations. And yet I'm lonely, because these were not the circumstances under which I had hoped to get it.
It's going to be a long day. I am awaiting a delivery of rice pudding and trashy magazines.
02 November 2009
Speechless
My children were recovering from their first bout of sickness of the season, and after twenty-four hours without appetite, they began to exhibit signs of hunger. To capitalize on this, I made pizza for dinner. It's relatively gentle, and one of the rare things that everyone agrees on.
Toward the end of the meal, Sacha's plate was littered with crusts, not unlike the bones of a small mammal's carcass picked clean.
“More, PLEASE!” he demanded.
“Sacha, you know, you can eat those crusts.” David responded.
“Okay,” Sacha replied, and picked a crust and proceeded to eat it.
Just like that. No argument, no protest, no screaming.
And this is how I knew that he was not quite back to himself. Because under normal circumstances, there is NO WAY he would acquiesce so readily without putting up a fight.
Toward the end of the meal, Sacha's plate was littered with crusts, not unlike the bones of a small mammal's carcass picked clean.
“More, PLEASE!” he demanded.
“Sacha, you know, you can eat those crusts.” David responded.
“Okay,” Sacha replied, and picked a crust and proceeded to eat it.
Just like that. No argument, no protest, no screaming.
And this is how I knew that he was not quite back to himself. Because under normal circumstances, there is NO WAY he would acquiesce so readily without putting up a fight.
Perry Arla
Pamela was not my intended name. A contraction of παν (pan) "all" and μελι (meli) "honey," it means all sweetness. As baby names go, you can't get more auspicious.
When I was born, my parents intended to name me Perry Arla, which I've always thought is a kick-ass name. It is strong and unusual, and I like its androgyny.
I spent a good deal of time in my adolescence wondering what life would have been like had I remained Perry Arla. And although it was not my name, I experimented using it as my signature, as swoony girls do with the object of their crush's last name. I no doubt spelled it with an i, dotted with an over-sized bubble, or possibly a heart that threatened to capsize the whole affair.
Yet my maternal grandmother did not like Perry Arla one bit. She thought it sounded like a gum disease, and she may have had a point.
And so, on my original birth certificate, in fraying black and white mimeograph, the name field is blank, and there is a stamp on the back, dated January 9, 1969, which reads:
This is to advise you that the name "Pamela Allison" has been inserted on the birth record of your child in accordance with the notice recieved from you. Certified copies of the record made in future will include the childs full name.
And thus, I came into the world, with a ready made identity crisis. And while things have worked out well for me as Pamela, I thought I would take Perry Arla as my nom de plume, in homage to the girl I wasn't, and in gratitude for the one I am.
When I was born, my parents intended to name me Perry Arla, which I've always thought is a kick-ass name. It is strong and unusual, and I like its androgyny.
I spent a good deal of time in my adolescence wondering what life would have been like had I remained Perry Arla. And although it was not my name, I experimented using it as my signature, as swoony girls do with the object of their crush's last name. I no doubt spelled it with an i, dotted with an over-sized bubble, or possibly a heart that threatened to capsize the whole affair.
Yet my maternal grandmother did not like Perry Arla one bit. She thought it sounded like a gum disease, and she may have had a point.
And so, on my original birth certificate, in fraying black and white mimeograph, the name field is blank, and there is a stamp on the back, dated January 9, 1969, which reads:
This is to advise you that the name "Pamela Allison" has been inserted on the birth record of your child in accordance with the notice recieved from you. Certified copies of the record made in future will include the childs full name.
And thus, I came into the world, with a ready made identity crisis. And while things have worked out well for me as Pamela, I thought I would take Perry Arla as my nom de plume, in homage to the girl I wasn't, and in gratitude for the one I am.
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