Bakery Shoot

So a week ago i shot photos for a bakery feature in an English travel website My Destination Sao Paulo. The bakery was beautiful--classic and quaint. I shot all of the sweeties on a table next to the front door with a curtain pulled around my back. I loved it. It was so nice getting back to on-site shooting for publications. Something i really missed (remember, no you don't, but pretend you remember when i worked for those magazines back in 2009). I felt alive again. And the hot chocolate you see in the photo---damn! it tasted like a s'more. I doubt any Paulistas read this blog, but if there are any of you out there, go get some of this hot chocolate.

Sorry to watermark the photos (i hate watermarking the photos) but they were shot for the travel website, not the bakery, so unfortunately i have to protect them. But you can still get the vibe of the photos.

You can see the rest of the photos and read the article about the bakery over at My Destination. And if you haven't yet (shame) visit my photography website already. Sheesh! 

An Odd Ice Cream

 Some people find photographing ice cream to be unpleasant. You set up your scene, you get your little camera all ready, and then your model starts moving...rather starts melting. You must be very quick about it. Personally, i like it. I usually spend way too much time photographing a single subject. I remember older posts here at Salty (way back when, we're over six years old now...that's geriatric in blog years) that would require me to set aside the entire day to do a post from start to finish. Yes, an entire day. I can not so fondly remember waiting until well past midnight to begin a paper on King Philip II for an archeology class. Well, i suppose sacrifices have to be made. But in professional photography you cannot spend an entire day shooting a cupcake while everyone else involved stands around twiddling their thumbs. Set up your shot and get in and out. Just like with ice cream. So photographing ice cream is a superb way to practice for on-site photography (or a wedding. blink and you miss it.) You have to act fast.

I'm only drawing such a connection because yesterday (yay!) i had an on-site shoot at a bakery. Usually i photograph inside my studio. Studio being my shanty-set up of living room curtains. Either way, the bakery was uncommonly cute for Brazilian standards. To be blunt, traditional bakeries in Brazil are similar to traditional bakeries in Portugal-- they're kinda ugly. The purpose is to get in, get your bread and get out. Not to sit on an antique piece of furniture covered in hand made cushions while sipping nouveau coffee with house made marshmallows. This bakery, on the other hand, claims to be an American style bakery and suffice to say, definitely hit the "Starbucks Standard" of ambiance. I shot as quickly as i could. With three servers behind the counter and both shop owners staring at you, taking your sweet time isn't exactly a professional option. The trick: pretend the scone is melting... like ice cream. We still took almost two hours to shoot all of the items, but in my defense i had to wait for a few things to cook. I love bakery shoots...particularly because i am quite familiar with nearly all the models. Madam cookie, i know which side of you photographs best--please turn your cheek. Also, bakery owners seem to be genuinely happy people. And how could you not be; perpetual sugar-high bliss.

I made ice cream Sunday morning before going to the gym. The gym doesn't open until ten on sundays so i had time to do such a thing. It's an odd style of ice cream i had seen on tv--made by whipping cream and condensed milk together. Not exactly ice cream but well, i don't have an ice cream machine (yet). The recipe literally contains only cream and condensed milk. I added amarula liqueur to add a bit of flavor. As usual, i added a bit too much liqueur so the cream wasn't able to whip to fully whipped status (stiff peaks). It was a little soupy. So i whipped another quarter cup of plain cream until practically crunchy, then folded it in. To be honest, it kinda tastes like frozen whip cream covered in amarula. Which, i suppose, isn't bad at all. It's an alright option for people without ice cream machines. Next time i will add a stronger flavor to try and mask the whip cream flavor.

An odd ice cream is always better than no ice cream. 

 

The ironic thing about photographing ice cream is that usually the most enticing shots arrive just at the melting point. You spend the first ten minutes frantically shooting the perfectly balled scoop--racing against the clock.hen, when you're about to give in, you realize how all of a sudden you really want to eat it. oh yeah. luckily that pot is quite small. 

So far this month i already have both a catering event and photography event lined up. Sao Paulo city is definitely treating me better than Indaiatuba ever did. Wish me luck. 

ps. i know i've been posting a lot of photos of flowers lately, but these coral roses are just too fluffy to not share. I received them last Friday as a surprise gift from H.  C'est tres chouette, non? 

 

Chocolate Olive Oil Cake

Last night I sat on the couch feeling a bit flu-ish. Just those achy tingling feelings accompanied by a pounding headache. So naturally i decided to watch cooking shows to cheer myself up. Unfortunately Brazilian cooking shows aren't very interesting. No, i take that back. There are only two Brazilian cooking shows worth watching and they are both hosted by Frenchies speaking odd Portuguese; Claude Troisgros from Que Maravilha and Olivier Anquier from Diario do Olivier. These two are worthwhile and present updated/internationalized Brasilian cuisine. Anyway, neither of these shows were on. On the American front the only cooking shows my cable channels air are that Cake Boss clown making spaghetti in a studio kitchen and Man versus Food. Not the best way to represent American cuisine i'm afraid. At least our British culinary friends are well represented. The channel GNT loves hosting marathons of Jamie Oliver, Gordon the asshole and very recently Nigella Lawson. Poor Nigella has unfortunately been in the news lately highlighted under terrible circumstances, but I find her to be a very creative cook, and the show now playing, Nigellissima, is quite relaxing to watch. So indeed that is what i ended up watching last night and yes of course she made a lovely grain-free olive oil tart which i decided to try out today. In preparation i sent an email to my best Brazilian foodie friend, Rafael, asking if he had started watching the new series on tv. His answer: I just watched Nigella and at first thought she was another terrible Donna Hay...but not! She is very good. Today I made her Ice cream. Did you laugh? I couldn't stop. Yes, they show Donna Hay's godforsaken Fast, Fresh and Simple here, which is the Australian version of Sandra Lee's Semi Homemade. Don't even get me started.  


So this little cake isn't exactly the recipe Nigella made, i used rice and cassava flour instead of almonds as i never have nuts "on hand." I haven't tried it yet.....but im expecting a very strong punch from it because i used extra virgin olive oil instead of regular olive oil. damn! Hey, i told you i was feeling a bit flu-ish. Minor mistake? We'll see. Extra virgin olive oil has a much deeper darker flavor than regular olive oil. I think i will be able to handle it, but just in case i plan on whipping some fresh cream on the side to try and mellow it out a bit if needed.

As usual it has been a few months since my last blog post. But i've not been lazy. I hope to pick things up for real this time. You see, i finally made a real/proper/legitimate website for my "business" here in Brasil. I invite you all to check it out even though the information is written in Portuguese. Mallory Ferland Fotografia & Gastronomia is up and running and waiting (hoping) for a few clients. The Salty Cod will still be the Salty Cod, and hopefully now that i feel i have a purpose it will translate back into that passion which went by the wayside.

If you are interested in making Nigella's Cake, you can find the recipe here or at a thousand other online blogs. If you do use the recipe from her site, i might warn to not use a full 125 ml of water. It's way too much and will give you a chocolate soup and a baking time of over one and a half hours. Another tip is to use any style cake pan you like. The cake shrinks in from the edges so a spring form isn't necessary, an attractive ceramic dish works well and can be used straight to serve from.

Well that's it, talk to you later. 


UPDATE: So we ate (half the tart) after dinner and holy cow! it's so good! the most simple usually are. The extra virgin didn't do any harm at all, neither of us could taste any olive--it translates into a nutty flavor. The texture is fabulous--like a dairy free chocolate cheesecake. So there you have it, the review.

Damn It. I Missed April

Good morning to you all, or to you few. It is now winter/autumn in Brazil, which means about twenty degrees warmer than an average Seattle summer day. The nights are slightly cooler, but standing under the sun is as prickly as ever. Lately my days have been as such: I've collected a few more students and have ditched working with the school, been frequenting the lovely Vila Lobos park on the weekends with miss Sybil and our fellow dog-enthusiast friends, have passed through a cookie and cupcake photo shoot and have signed on for a new one, catered for an event at a fancy night club, and ----- I've finally made the perfect gluten free bread loaf. Saving the best for last, i know. I might give away the recipe in a few weeks. Or not.

cupcake tower by Sophie and Theo's Cupcakes

I had hopped that two months from now i would be on a jet plane to Seattle to visit my family and baby niece who i have never seen (well, she is only two months old), but unfortunately that won't be happening until December. At three thousand reais a ticket, it's impossible to go to Seattle more than once a year, times two people. I prefer going in December because I've always found December to be the happiest month in the US. Yes it's cold, but no one has school, most people are blowing off their jobs early and damn it i like holiday spirit. I do miss holidays living here. Now don't get me wrong, we have tons of holidays in Brazil. But 'holiday' here usually means a day off work, a barbecue or a quick trip to the beach (or as i like to say, a QTB. no not really). I miss the decorations and enthusiasm that comes with the holiday spirit in the US. I like it when store fronts paint pumpkins and turkeys in the window, when Starbucks serves seasonal beverages and draws whimsical holiday chalk drawings on their menu boards, when in December you seemingly can't walk into any commercial (or residential building) without hearing Christmas music. Will i ever have red, white and blue jello salad again? or use holiday-coordinated paper plates and napkins?

I think it's the weather. It's definitely not the argument of, "well Americans like to waste money on more crap" because if anything Brazilians spend a lot of money. So here we are shuffling on into Autumn like i mentioned before, and i can't help but think of Halloween. in June. yes. Brazilian culture doesn't celebrate Halloween. For obvious reasons, however. Halloween has its roots in Irish culture, an immigrant population that did not make its way as fully to Brazil as it did to the US. So i blame not! Usually when i comment on the lack of Halloween here to family and friends the response is, well isn't there Day of the Dead in November? Yes, technically there is. But it's not called Day of the Dead, it's called Finados (literally "souls") and is pretty unexciting. I mean, nothing happens. Observing Catholics might visit a deceased loved one's grave with a bouquet of flowers, but there's no parades or colorful costumes like Dia de los Muertos in Mexico. So Halloween-time festivities are out.

The closest Brazil gets to an Autumnal festival takes place in June, the Festa Junina. Festa is the only holiday i am aware of in Brazil (aside from Carnival) where costumes are involved. The theme of the Festa is "over exaggerated farmer" or drunk hick. Men wear plaid shirts, overalls and straw hats while the females wear raggedy-Anne doll dresses, straw hats with pigtails and painted on freckles. Costumes! One lucky gal at each party even gets to shove a pillow under her dress and act out the scene of the pregnant bride. The wedding ceremony usually happens around a bonfire and sometimes there's a conga line. Festive food includes corn, hot dogs, popcorn, corn pudding, peanuts, hot wine and hot cachaça. Personally i only go every year for the peanut candies. This year a friend of mine has invited me to a new one hosted by a brand new hostel here in Sampa, we will both be selling food stuff out of the kitchen and we are hoping to make the selection nouveau-festa-junina by making a fusion of American autumnal flavors with the classic Festa Junina flavors. So if any of you have any ideas and would like to share, please leave a remark in the comments section. We have until mid-June to get the menu spot on. The crowd will be young and intoxicated, keep that in mind. I leave you with a few random photos until next time, à bientot.

Dia das Maes Cupcake made by Sophie and Theo's Cupcakes

picnic sandwiches at Parque Vila Lobos

Dia das Maes brownies made by The Kitchen

Pumpkin Biscuits

For dogs. 

Lately I have been on an Asian food kick. Primarily because a week or so ago I visited Sao Paulo’s Liberdade district for the first time. Let me just say that this place has been here the entire time I’ve lived in Brazil (and apparently before that too). It’s been here and I, being but an hour and a half away, never visited. Stupid. Liberdade is market town. Consisting of ninety percent Japanese products (or perhaps just vendors, the products are from all over) with a bit of Chinese and a very scarce pinch of Vietnamese and Thai products. So sadly I really can’t call it China Town. I will let you know one fact that every Brazilian tour guide/website will point out to you – Brazil has the greatest population of Japanese (descendants) living outside of Japan, and yes it is for the exact reason you are thinking of; agricultural work boom at the turn of the (20^th) century. The point I am trying to make here is that Thai curry paste, spring roll wrappers, glutinous rice flour and every possible jarred sauce condiment ever created by man is now at my disposition. Expect some spring roll photos soon. But not today.

Lately I’ve been distracted. I received a catering request for a large business breakfast last week; I collaborated with a friend in the business and we sent our proposal. Never heard from the lady again. Not even a rejection letter, nothing. Even after sending a follow up letter. First rejection and we don’t even know why. Oh well. There will be a next time.

Now to the distraction. Nearly two weeks ago my family dog [in Seattle] died unexpectedly before her time. The sadness over losing her hit me greater than I thought the passing of a non-human creature could ever throw at me. I’ve been around dogs my whole life. Since consciousness, there has always been a dog in my family. My husband, on the other hand, had never had a dog in his life, and since getting married had made it clear that he was not a dog (or any creature) person. So I never thought about dogs. I still have dogs, I would think, they just live at my parents’ house. When Olivia died I unreservedly cried for days. My tears were for the pangs of saudades, for the fear that she might have suffered, and for the pain I knew my sisters and parents were feeling. The gravity was due to the unexpectedness of it all. She was young, healthy, the apple in our eyes.

A few days later my husband suggested we adopt a dog. Say what? His change of heart, so he claims, came from pity for me. But I like to think that he subconsciously wished he could know what that feeling is…to cry out of love for a dog. Whatever the reason, we now have a dog. A dog, not a puppy. Last weekend we visited the UniãoInternacional Protetora Dos Animais (UIPA). The organization is actually extremely well run, which, if you are familiar with anything in Brazil, will surprise you. The organization is similar to American humane societies; they focus on rescuing mainly cats and dogs from the street, from abusive households and from abandonment. The UIPA in Sao Paulo city alone has over twelve hundred dogs at any given time. They survive on donations and a volunteer staff. Every dog or cat on site is vaccinated, spayed or neutered and de-wormed. They also require an on-site veterinary consultation with every adoption. The place is overrun with adult dogs. Only the puppies seem to draw attention. I find puppies too messy. We went in looking for an adult and found a quiet girl sitting in a corner pen with three one-month old puppies bouncing around. She didn’t bark. She didn’t move. She looked miserable. Yep, that’s the one. We picked her up and took her right then and there. One of the volunteer staff informed us that she was about one year old, was found pregnant on the highway about two months ago and had given birth to five puppies that were all already adopted or reserved for adoption. Only she was left. We named her Sybil.

Sybil is a true Sao Paulo street rat. But she is the sweetest thing we have ever seen. She has never barked and is afraid of everything. Doorways, staircases, pillows, blankets, ironing boards. Just being inside a building is frightening for her. But she is adjusting. Today is her fourth day and she is relaxing. Well, relaxing as much as anyone on antibiotics, flee medication, worm-pills and a new diet can.

So, being the food snob that I am, I had to make healthy dog treats for my new family member. The mini milk bone treats and what have you at the store are full of too many ingredients…primarily wheat flour. Nearly all veterinarians point out that wheat is not particularly good for dogs. While she does eat a pricy bagged dog food, I wanted to make whole food biscuits for her so I don’t feel guilty about filling her with msg. If you google “dog biscuit” recipes you will find that there seems to be a consensus that pumpkin is not only healthy but tasty for dogs. Pumpkin it is. All I did was mix two eggs with one cup cooked and smashed pumpkin, two and a half cups rice flour, a pinch of salt, a quarter cup of grated cheese and pureed meat from two chicken legs. Sybil is small (about 10 lbs) so I cut the biscuits into small half inch squares. She isn’t crazy for them, but she eats them. 

I live in a really nice neighborhood in Sao Paulo, so when we go for walks most of the dogs we meet on the street are pure breeds. “oh what is her race?” I am constantly asked. My reply – she is a dog, she used to be a street dog. Love the looks.

We’ll share photos once she is more relaxed. Tomorrow is my three year wedding anniversary, and spring rolls on Friday. See you then.

Extreme Recap

We’re so far behind, where do we start?

view from my living room window

Since the last post we’ve: moved into our new apartment in Sao Paulo, started part time (really part time) work with an English school, collected a few new private students, started figuring out how to navigate through one of the biggest cities in the world, started trying to work as a private chef, sold my food for the first time at a market, AND my very first niece was born last weekend. Life is wonderfully full at the moment.  I hope I will be that cool aunt in the foreign country who sends sweets and toys in the mail. I represent a beach vacation, I should be the cool aunt! 

So backup. Working with food? Since when did I become a chef right? I don’t have a job in a restaurant, I don’t hold a culinary degree, but I’m trying to get into working with something I actually like and am actually good at. Not that I don’t enjoy English teaching, I do. But im not proud of it, i teach simply because I'm an American living in Brazil. Anyone can do that. But I am a good cook, I am not modest about that. I can cook. Well, anyone can cook, but I actually cook really well, and people like what i make. For now let’s call it an experiment, shall we?

Two weeks ago I was invited to cook a four course sit down dinner for nine. Literally it was three day after moving into my new place, didn’t even have a fridge yet. The party was co-hosted by the owner of a Sao Paulo City travel website (My Destination Sao Paulo) and the owner of a wine and imports shop (Sonoma - they import gourmet items such as olive oils, cheeses, salts and spices). The amazing part of the event was that I sent my menu to the host early so that he could pair the right wine with each course. Let me just say the guests were quite spoiled. The event took place on the rooftop terrace of a penthouse in the south of Sao Paulo. The view was incredible. The dinner was started with one of my favorite entrances, potted crab, which is an original dish created by my Brazilian culinary double, Rafael. If I can remember correctly the crab was paired with Chablis. The entrance was followed by a raw salad of green (not actually green, just unripe and hard) papaya, carrot and cucumbers with a spicy Thai dressing (I actually julienned it all by hand, and it looked pretty uniform!) The main course was a spicy coconut curry with chicken thighs and was paired with Pinot Noir. For dessert I went with my safety net—the chocolate truffle tart that has NEVER disappointed. I finished it with freshly whipped cream and blueberries which, yes, you can find here. It was an amazing experience. My last thrilling experience on this level was when i successfully "catered" my sister's wedding in December.

Following said dinner (described above) I was invited by one of the dinner guests to sell food at a night market that she helps to organize. The event is mostly attended by gringos and hosts a variety of vendors selling everything from cupcakes to paper lamps. I was a little too nervous to accept right away. Who would pay actual money for my food? A week later I received a final call email about the event and impulsively decided to go for it without having any idea of what I would sell. I originally thought to do a cold bruschetta or tapas because it would be simple to assemble and wouldn’t require the grill and hotplate that I don’t possess. Unfortunately one of the other vendors wrote in that they were selling something called “toastex” so we decided I should go with something else. So I decided to do the same thing but inside of individual tart shells. Big mistake. It’s hard enough to make a few tart shells much less fifty of them. And to top it off, I made them gluten free.

I filled the shells with two different mixtures: the first was a blackberry (amora) red onion sauce topped with watercress and salmon grilled in wasabi and sesame seeds (the wasabi wasn’t strong) and the second was filled with herbed goat cheese ricotta (homemade), apple, crispy bacon and sprouts. I planned on selling crème brulle in edible shells but after making fifty tart shells I gave up. The public was a little hesitant to try them, but those who actually did gave great feedback on the flavors. One woman actually bought six to take home. I didn’t make any actual money (just slightly over three hundred reais, which was my break even mark) but the experience was incredible. Not only did I actually get to talk to strangers enjoying my food, but I received a few contacts requesting my service as a caterer. What I really got out of the market was confidence. 

That was two days ago.

Sao Paulo is a crazy city. For one, it’s the largest city in all of the Americas. Living among eleven million people seems like it could be a bit overwhelming…but luckily Sao Paulo, like most large cities, is divided into neighborhoods that honestly form their own cities. You feel as if you are in a small community with your own groceries, banks, butchers, street markets, schools, sports centers, and restaurants—technically you never actually need to leave your own neighborhood in this city.  We all do of course. I am very lucky to be in a very quiet, relatively safe and clean neighborhood known as Perdizes/Pompeia. I’d always been nervous about moving to Sao Paulo, but I’m actually in love with the area. I get to see my friends more often and I’ve even made a few new friends already. If the metro covered more areas I would be in heaven.  But one of the greatest assets of the city is the diversity of the population here. There is a demand for everything. My style of cooking actually has a chance here whereas in the countryside it had little to none.

Now we are caught up. There is a carrot cake cooling in the kitchen for a birthday party tomorrow and im planning the menu for a luncheon on Sunday.  The ninety degree weather was just interrupted by a hail storm. Such is life in Sao Paulo where you can experience every season in one day. We’ll talk about this carrot cake next time.

Creme.

I can't begin to describe how difficult it's been for us to rent an apartment in Sao Paulo. It, as with almost all other endeavors that involve "a paper to be signed" is as or more complicated than donating your kidney. It has been over one week since our offer on a place was accepted and no contracts have been issued. The only things that have been moving are the mountains of personal documents being schlepped into the realtor's office. At this time well over fifty documents have been sent to the realtor. personal documents. From both the renter and the renter's "financial guarantor." In this city you either get a guarantor, pay an insurance or (very seldom) are allowed to make a down payment deposit (oh how i wish). All the apartments we've been after require either the guarantor or the insurance. A guarantor must be a property owner, and my mother in law agreed to be ours. What makes me uncomfortable is how much they require from both us and the guarantors. At this moment, for all parties involved, the real estate agency now has our bank records, tax returns, property deeds, receipts from property purchases, national ID cards, social security cards, copies of everyone's national worker's records, salary statements and the list goes on and on. I wonder if i should send them our vaccination records and diplomas as well. Once again, oh "process in Brazil" you spleen me for unnecessity.  Our first guarantor (a Brazilian I might add) actually backed out of the deal after criticizing that the agencies asked too much of him in exposure. Which, i fully agree with. It is a bit excessive for simply renting. So there you have it. I know that some transactions go smoother and quicker and that perhaps we just got the unlucky stick, but one day i would just love it if some transaction/action/endeavor in Brazil actually went down without gagging us on the way!

Why are we bothering to leave the interior for Sampa anyway you may ask? Well, aside from this real estate trouble and high prices of everything, I am so eager to get my butt into Sao Paulo i can barely handle it. The place may be big, dirty and overwhelming - my favorite description of the city will always be that of Tony Bourdain; "Sao Paulo is as if Los Angeles threw up on New York." But there are so many interesting people, new foods, new opportunities, new shops, new restaurants and more museums and cultural events than i will ever have time to attend. This city is without a doubt among the most interesting in the world. I am more than ready to try and start a new entrepreneurial direction with my life and I know that Sao Paulo is the only place for me right now. That being said, nothing in Brazil comes without a good dose of frustration...

In the meantime my house is packed up (sort of), i'm out of work (should already have moved) and i am without a car (H takes my car to SP everyday now to work, we already sold his car. and we should already be living in an apartment in SP). I don't know why we thought our timeline would go smoothly in Brazil as it never does. We should know better.

Midst all the fretting, however, there have been a few milestones that i've neglected. Two days ago (February 5th) was my three year anniversary for arriving in Brazil (as a resident). That's an achievement I dare say. If i can last three years here maybe i can last four, or even five. And then of course a real call for celebration yesterday as it was H's 29th birthday. Instead of cake I made his favorite dessert-creme brulee. To make it a little fancier (not that there's anything wrong with it au-naturel) i lined the bottom of the cups with a chocolate truffle...filling. well actually it's what you would make a truffle out of so i suppose it is simply chocolate truffled creme brulee.

My recipe for creme brulee in Brazil is very simple; two boxes of creme de leite, 1/2 cup of sugar, 5 egg yolks and a dash of vanilla. I use farm eggs so my creme is a bit on the orangey side. But trust me you can tell the difference between a factory and farm egg especially in a creme brulee. As for the truffle; make your favorite truffle recipe and pour straight into the ramekins while it's still liquid. Allow the truffle to set and cool before pouring the creme mixture on top. Then just bake as usual in a bain marie in the oven. I usually cook them for 45 minutes. Refrigerate the custards for at least two hours before serving. You can broil them, but they are much better torched because then the custard and truffle remains cold. Not a big fan of hot creme.

While creme brulee is definitely one of the more simple dessert recipes of the French genre, i don't think there's anything (on my list) that tops it. While living in Paris i must have had it once or twice a week at my familiar bar à vin. The thing i loved the most was that chef would change it up every time. Sometimes it would come to me with pistachios crusting the bottom or baby blueberries (myrtilles) strewn throughout. Hazelnuts, raspberries, chestnuts, chocolate -- he would add anything. So for this i know that creme brulee is a dessert as versatile as a sandwich. It is extremely fun (and easy) to play around with to match any occasion or season your're in.

So we may be in a semi-packed up house anxious about our future, but we still managed to forget it and enjoy salmon and shitake risotto followed by a rich (maybe too rich) dessert. The real surprise of the day, however, was the half dozen roses H brought home for me, on his birthday. A very sweet surprise that I know was to encourage me to relax and deal with the real estate frustration with a grain of salt. I really want to get this apartment...and i guess at this point i am supposed to say that home is where the heart is. I know I can't complain about life. But i just think that these flowers would look so lovely in the new place! à bientot.

January

I think I’ll start writing as if I never left. The reality is that I have been gone for this blog for three years.  Well, a few spotty appearances over the past three don’t count, so let’s just say that since moving to Brazil I quit. That’s right, I quit my blog. Why did I have it anyway? Not even sure anymore. I think that’s why I quit it.

Last week I returned from a one month stay at my parents’ in Seattle. While there, a few (as in more than one) people inquired as to what happened to the Salty Cod. My response – oh, that. It died. Died? Well why did you kill it? I’m not sure. I think I lost inspiration. Confidence with photography, and really, was my life so damned interesting that people actually wanted to read about it? Exactly three years ago the stigma of foodie blogs started to get to me. There were just too many, and everyone was doing the same thing. So I sneaked out the back door. I got tired of seeing that same bloody wooden spoon tied with twine to a mason jar full of pudding. Who ties spoons to their puddings before eating it? So you see, I felt like this foodie blog thing (which was literally nothing in 2006/2007) had turned into like a diaper party of bored housewives.  Not that there’s anything wrong with bored housewife diaper parties, but as a 26 year old expat constantly trying to break into some “entrepreneurial” gig, my biggest fear lurking in the shadow is me becoming a bored diaper partying housewife. So I distanced myself from it.

My second reason for leaving, I think, is that I just got sick of negative comments left on my blog. I never understood why anyone would bother reading my crap if they hated it so much. I didn’t experience much negativity while living and writing in Europe, but once I started writing in Brazil, I started to get punched in the face by Brazilians. I couldn’t mention how I missed picking blackberries in Washington without some anonymous troll scolding me for being spoiled and ungrateful for living in a country with such horticultural abundance and still wishing I had my dumb American berries. Well the problem is that I happen to like my dumb American berries. Yeah, yeah, yeah; ignore. Easier said than done.

My third reason is that I think I started to get bored with the city I live in. When I lived in Paris there was always something to write about. Living in the countryside city where I am now isn’t exactly chock full of things to do. So after a while my stories started to run out.  Who wants to read about food only?

So why am I deciding to come back? Because I’ve gotten over most of the things that pushed me away. Food blog? I’m not going to call this a food blog, I think it can just be called blog. I will still talk about food (mostly my food). But don’t call me a food blogger.  Does that make any sense? No.  And to the Sensitive trolls? Well, I think I’ve lived here long enough that I’ve realized they are omnipresent, both online and out there…in the street…in the bar, lurking. So luckily on the eve of my 3^rd year anniversary in Brazil, I don’t really give a damn if someone gets offended by something I have to say about my own perception of Brazil. And lastly, we’re leaving our little city after three years and moving into Sao Paulo, one of the biggest cities in the world. Life in the concrete jungle, I assume, will produce a few more stories than here in my sleepy suburb.

We’ll see how this goes. What I miss the most is sharing my life with people who actually care—the friends, family and strangers who actually enjoy reading (and sometimes talking) to me. So let’s give it another try.

As you can see by the not so creative photos, I recently made a cake. Yesterday to be exact. The cake is for my best friends’ new baby who will be born in a few days. A zero years old birthday cake. She’ll love it. 

The real reason to talk about this cake is the frosting. You see, I have been wanting a Kitchenaid mixer since I started cooking/baking (secretly in my dorm room) in 2005. The problem is that I could never really afford one. After moving to Brazil, I could afford, but the logistics of getting one here were ugly. So For the past seven years I have been griping and grumbling over every god damn facebook post from friends showing off their new mixers, with titles such as “I will make cookies first!” god damn it…cookies in a mixer? I deserve that not you!!!  I am a very jealous person apparently. Long story short, I finally sucked it up and sacrificed 25 pounds of luggage space for the beast and brought one home with me. The years of whipping meringues, frostings and whipped cream by hand are over. Though I am sure I have a much stronger tennis arm than all of you because of it. The first thing I wanted to make was Swiss meringue buttercream. I have been wanting to do it for a while…….but the descriptions of “mix at medium speed for 15-20 minutes” turned me off…that’s like 40 minutes in arm whipping time…yeah no.  

So I made it. Very simple. And can I just add—it tastes at least ten times better than powdered sugar buttercream, who the hell ever invented powdered sugar buttercream and why is it still in existence? Good grief. It has an amazingly smooth flavor and the texture is much better for stacking layers and covering cakes. Oh man I’ve been missing out.  I am fairly certain that at this point I will never make chalk buttercream again.

Want a recipe? Google it. There are a billion out there. One tip though I would add—after adding the butter to the glossy meringue, make sure to switch to the paddle attachment on the mixer. 

cupcakes and getting back to the photos.

So cupcakes are kinda a big deal outside of the US. why? Because they are different and are so stupidly cute that even the manliest of men can't overcome the urge to sneak one into the corner. That and the fact that anything remotely american in brazil is considered "que chique!" Brazilians, like many other non-americans, are cookoo for cupcakes. My theory is that they are coveted so simply for the fact that they are actually attractive unlike most Brazilian desserts. Now there i go offending Brazilians again, it's an unfortunate habit of mine, but the fact of the matter is that most Brazilian desserts are ugly. If you knew me, say 4 or so years ago, you would remember my sentiment about Portuguese desserts. ugly. It seems to be an inherited trait from papa portugal. As recorded here on the Salty Cod a few years ago, when i first arrived in Porto, one of my initial thoughts that may or may not have been said aloud was how god-awfully ugly most of the bakeries were. That pretty much sums it up for the pastry scene in Brazil as well. Many Brazilians have argued with me on this, but meh. Stewed strawberries in a simple syrup just don't translate for me, many apologies. Either way, once you have been in a Parisian boulangerie-pâtisserie, everything will seem ugly to you henceforth. This is where cupcakes come in. They are brilliant for children as they offer relatively small portions, and they simply look good, whether or not they actually taste good.   

You can find a few cupcake copycats at supermarkets or bakeries around the Sao Paulo, but most look like cookie monster vomit. However, there are a few cupcake "specialists" in the area. One being the delightful to-order cupcake shop Sophie & Theo's Cupcakes in Sao Paulo owned and run by my New Zealand expat friend Jaime. The key to Jaime's cupcakes is the cake to frosting ratio which is right on the money, and she even has a line of gluten free cakes. If you are looking for an authentic cupcake with actual taste in the Sao Paulo region, i recommend getting in touch with her at saopaulocupcakes. and yes, she sells a special cupcake with a hello kitty charm!

Lately i have been shooting quite a few cakes and cupcakes. They are just so deliciously photogenic. And to be honest, i miss sharing photos with you. So here are a few cakes and cupcakes i have been working with lately. just for fun. As hard as i try, i just can't get away from photographing food, especially sweets. 

Hello?

potatoes.

I know there's nobody there anymore. The hello is rhetorical. This writing is strictly for the nobody i started writing to somewhere around five years ago. It feels good to write to nobody. Salty has been dead for close to nine months. But really Salty has been dead for a year. No food. No photos. None of that jazz that got us off the floor of that baby-puke stained family room all those years ago. Why did i let it die. I don't know exactly. People have been asking me that. I have been asking myself that. Sometimes the subject is avoided; that big fat pregnant elephant in the room. Murder is not an appropriate dinner time conversation. She lost her touch. She lost her drive. Ah, she got too busy. I don't really know. Actually i do. and it's more than one answer. It was never supposed to be forever. I was only 20 years old.

Today, there are more blogs- particularly food blogs- out there than words in the english language (that number hovers somewhere around two million) and i suppose i got tired. I got tired of it all. It felt like a basketball team potluck. I had thoughts of a race for some nonexistent pay. And then there was that Twitter. There's something about that Twitter my friend... Even without the words, there was this smoky smell of a competition. of a community. Who the hell came up with that idea anyway-online community. to judge each other. Communities are for moms sitting around a church or school room floor teaching each other how to breastfeed. Communities are soccer parents figuring out who will fetch and deliver their prodigy children to their practices on any given day. Communities are for alcoholics and drug addicts learning how to live again. i made my point, and that point isn't that i'm antisocial. the point is i fell out of love with the idea of the word blog and was overcome by the fear of considering myself a stay at home (insert female associated word) who blogs to pass the time and train my camera to take as many of the exact same shots with bled-out backgrounds as everyone else who, from my point of view, popped up over night. The thing that i failed to convince myself of was that i could just ignore it all. That was murder stage one.

And now i will describe murder stage two. My disdain with the idea of being a food blogger was merely the prepping; the gagging, the blind folding, a few slaps in the face. But not murder. I was the lone gunman. And i didn't even have the guts to shoot out of mercy. I bled him slowly. and with no proper burial. I accredit my unbalanced thoughts (i won't use the word depression because unhappiness is not involved here, more of an uneasiness) to the fact that i was still a foreigner living in a foreign country. The only problem was that as two years loomed on the horizon i gave myself this brilliant idea that i no longer fit the description of out of place foreigner. After a few years, are you really still a tourist experiencing a delicacy of strange yet charming cultural differences? Do you have that excuse anymore? I thought no. Two years is enough. apparently this is now my home. No longer a tourist. and i started to see the place differently. My eye color changed from objective to subjective. Somewhere among this rubble i killed Salty. Either I thought i didn't need him anymore or maybe he didn't need me anymore. But more to the point, with my sandy colored new shade of subjective pupils, i knew i had nothing to write about my daily life in Brazil that wouldn't cause uproar, criticism and hatred. If i write what i want to write, i will be salted and dried in the cold Norwegian sun along with my dear friend. I didn't want to write about my childhood memories of cookies, or how lovely apples are on the trees in the dying light of the harvest season. I wanted to write about real things. But after a few death threats by anonymous readers for complaining about missing raspberries and street harvested blackberries (side note: if you were to ask any foreigner whether visitor or resident what they love about brazil, they will undoubtedly tell you about how friendly and open the people are) i realized that what i wanted to write about wasn't exactly what my audience wanted to read. and on top of it im a crybaby. yes. a crybaby. So, that age-old saying of if you have nothing nice to say--- to top it all, i told myself i was ready to end it. to grow up and focus on bigger things. i thought it was time. But to be honest, it wasn't.

I've been feeling out of sorts with myself for a while. Nobody really tells you how hard it is to live in a country not your own. And nobody really tells you how hard it is to live in Brazil- with an opinion. So now to wrap up this murder confession, i will expose for you the straw that broke the camel's back. Yes, one straw that made my yearning to crawl back into Salty's arms too unbearable- a discussion with an intelligent old man. I live in a small town. Small for Brazilian standards, average for American standards. In this small town it is common to run into people you know and people you wish you didn't know. As you might guess by now, the story has something to do with running into an acquaintance. at a bar. a high school teacher, no not my own (can you imagine my North Kitsap High School teachers mulling around Indaiatuba?) this was H's highschool grammar teacher, a man, who, i could tell, was very respected by H. After being invited to take a seat the trouble began. To make the story short (though, in retrospect the conversation was quite amusing) i will sum it it by saying that i would not have been one of his favorite pupils had i been lucky enough to be under his tutelage (i am positive that was the first time i have ever used that word.) In other words, the man hated the air i breathed. why. one was most likely the fact that i had an opinion. the second, that i learned only later in the conversation was that i was female. and finally, that i wouldn't accept a roast of my native language. When i meet new people, the first question is always, do you like brazil? and my answer is always, mais ou menos- more or less. is that so? yes. i will describe the things i like. and the things you don't like? those always seem to get me in trouble.

The list is not long, but it is powerful. matters of justice, matters of public safety, equality--and my favorite, solutions to these problems. you don't think about these things during your first year in another country, but as time goes by, they are more visible than the sun. and yes, i have an opinion. while this gentleman was not the first to argue with me (don't get me wrong, i love a good argument) he was the first to tell me that they didn't matter. that these problems were not for me. these were problems of his country and i needed to learn to adapt to them. at this point i pulled out a quote --as i often do when i need someone more gifted than i to help me out-- a quote by one of the most respected men in the world. and when i finished, he threw it to the ground. rubbish. i watched as he spit on the words of the world's greatest ever defender of human rights and i knew. i knew i should write whatever i wanted. Just because i don't praise something does not mean i don't love it. who wants to read a story filled with fruit baskets and coconut water. not me. but getting frustrated doesn't help. words help. photos help. food helps.

You will be happy to know that as the crybaby that i am, i did not shed one tear. Not even after being told that my Portuguese was at a "pathetic" stage for the two years that i have been here.

And so, me with my pathetic Portuguese, i have decided to return to Salty. a new Salty.

And that is the murder story. You might never forgive me, Salty might never forgive me. You might never return. Once a murderer, always a murderer. But for now, i realize i need us. Not because i can't handle a few messy conversations, but because i need more messy conversations to keep my head on straight.

A few parting notes - why the potatoes? no reason. they were in the fridge. dark. natural. boring.

And the final parting note - the scene with the teach at the bar ended quite humorously, and i think you will all agree. When we moved the conversation to food i mentioned how i love bacalhao, cod fish, and how it has an amazing history. my opposition's approach- idiot girl, cod is not a type of fish, it is a method of preservation! your teaching license, good sir, should be revoked.