There Was This Job...

The Master Said: Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.

I had that quote pinned to my wall above my computer since i found it folded in a little card box. I decided i wanted to live to it. Perhaps not immediately, perhaps with hiccups and snags along the way, but i think maybe we'll get it. We're off to a good start either way.

So we said goodbye to my university and house last week (actually i'm still here in town for a bit, just acting the vagabond house jumper...living out of a suit case et cetera) in order to get a last week of work in before...partir. It seems like a good night moon series here; good bye school, goodbye house, good bye job, good bye friends, good bye towns... I just finished working for a magazine; two actually. The Idaho Cuisine, and the Spokane Sizzle. My technical title was editorial assistant--but well i think i was mostly a photographer with writing, website work, trailing, chauffeuring, consulting, dining companion, and everything else one could possibly want an assistant for. What can i say, i suppose in the end, this was the best job that could have ever come to me, i am freshly graduated, but at the same time already have something to put in my resume. So i would like to thank my boss, J, and the other J, and the coworkers who all put faith in a nobody college kid to write and photograph for the publication. Thank you for giving me my start, i will miss you all!

Unfortunately as i said there is a lot of good bye-ing lately; as such, having no home, moving on into a new stage of life, and preparing for something that you will all hear about within the next few days here has left me with little time to write and or bake--bake? i don't even have a kitchen anymore....anyways, i will now throw at you, on the day of my very last work day, some shots that i particularly like from my time with the magazine. so. take a look if you please. Most, many--all are owned by the magazine appearing in print or online, so they are copyrighted. Not that i need to say this to any of you dear friends, but just in case.

All of these photos were from assignments--restaurant features, chef interviews, cover shoots, neighborhood spotlights, in-home caterers, local bakeries, and just happenings going on in the Spokane and Coeur d'Alene community. I was skeptic for three years that there was any beuty or taste to be found in this inland no-where corner of this country, but i suppose now that i've really looked at it, through my lens, i've discovererd that there is so much to taste, so many wonderful people to meet, so many things to see, smell, and smile at. It reafirms something that i keep forgetting; as long as you try to find it, you can really be happy anywhere.

will return with adventure shortly.

good bye Spokane--thanks for the four years of memories.

a bientot

Hey Guess What?

I'm Graduated! (and i catered desserts for 30!)

And so i ask myself: how did i get here? Can this really all be over? College is all i have known for four years, and school, well i have been in school for seventeen years. I don't know how not to be in school. This is it? I have to be a real person now? No more excuses, no more holding my hand? No more head in the clouds? I have to...have to...have to be a grown up now? Well. At least come to my party please? A party you say? One of thirty plus people? But who catered? Why me of course. ME! on y va.

I know it's possible perhaps that you are a first time reader and therefore are perhaps thinking that i just graduated from pastry school. well, not exactly. My pastry school has been in my own kitchen, while in the classroom i've spent the past four years acquiring two bachelors of arts: one in history and one in the French language. and now i have them. i have them. what good will they do me? well i'm not sure. but what it came down to was that i decided i would study what i loved, no matter what practicality it would have on future job outcomes. Therefore i have spent my days in classrooms studying Alexander and the Hellenistic Kingdoms, the American Revolution, Louis and Clark, Thomas Jefferson, Ancient East Asian Empires, American Immigration, Civil wars, World Wars, revolutionary wars, the Mexican conquest through independence, America the Gilded Age, America in expansion, Medieval Europe, Tudor England, Ancient Rome, the Space Race,Russian Tsars, the Kingdoms of Islam, African colonization.......and of course, Portuguese colonization (my thesis. if you actually would like to read it, just ask. i'd be happy to share Portugal with you). But aside from all that fun stuff (oh, and all the French courses) Gonzaga has forced me (at the time forced was definitely my mind set) over the past four years to attend classes on.....a few other subjects. Philosophy, Ethics, human nature, study of the Old Testament, African Catholicism, Religious dialog, mathematical statistics and algebra, geological physics, Latin, psychology, political science and world politics, fine arts, American literature, English writing, oration, Western literature...does it ever end? Apparently yes. As i am done.Done!


Perhaps you would like to know about this party...so perhaps i should tell you. A graduation calls for a dinner party, with all the family? yes. F, S, A and I plus each of our family's comes to a total at about thirty. Ouch. What restaurant is going to attempt to seat that? well well well. party planning? i've found yet another guilty pleasure. Writing for a food magazine allows one to meet and befriend many restaurant owners and chefs, and as such if you happen to stumble into a place of love at first sight, befriending the owner becomes only logical. The venue for 224 Sinto's graduation party was at Chaps Restaurant, a Montana themed eclectic farm-house turned Dorothy-charm soul food sit down. Mason jars for water glasses, the walls lined in old newsprint and handed down recipes, sparkles, glittering belt buckles...the old tin lunch box for a bread basket--and i haven't even mentioned the food yet. But when i brought up the the proposition of a 30 manned graduation dinner to C, the mastermind behind it all, the number was a bit steep for the kitchen staff to turn out entrees for that many heads. So instead she suggested a party. a party? buffet style food set up, the entire farm house upper lever all to our selves, wine in ice buckets, dips and meats and cheeses--it would be a social gathering to mingle among our four families instead of a stuffy round table seated event, and i would do the desserts. me? i looked at her a little perplexed? me cater desserts for 30 people to be served in a real restaurant? me? C is one of my dearest readers here at the Salty Cod, and i am so grateful (and slightly undeserving) of her confidence in my pastry skills--she's offered me space in her restaurant kitchen to come in and well, bake! So that would be it; a standing room party for 30, i would come in to go over the menu with the chef (an absolute genius i must add) and work out the financial details, and i would do the desserts. But what? What could i do that's not too risky, could be done in my tiny little kitchen, on the the week following excruciatingly painful finals, a graduation, and the weekend of moving out of our house---does this sound fun?? hell yes it does!

While i should have been studying for my psych final, i was drawing up menu ideas in my cake journal. Bite size of course. The first thing to my mind: macarons. Macarons have become a special thing in this house, because as you all may or may not know, it is near impossible to find a macaron in the United States, as such after returning from my year in France, i made them for my house mates and they were sucked in as if hit by a hard drug. Make macarons? Are you going to make macarons? When will you make macarons again? I knew i had to make macarons. No question about it, it had to be done. But 100 macarons? Good god, what am i getting myself into. Besides macarons, what else? Well, there was this one cake i made last August for E, who along with my housemates, is my dearest Gonzaga friend. A coconut milk and ginger sponge cake rolled with white chocolate and coconut buttercream. S and E gave the cake a name that perhaps is a little inappropriate to state here, as my mom is in fact a reader of this chronicle (hi mom) so i knew for this party we had to bring it back, though not as a jelly roll, but the same cake, only as mini cup cakes. 30 cupcakes it is then. But there must be a center piece to it all, something a little more fancy...something with layers.

I have always eye goggled French entremet cakes. yes, something completely new and made up. but what...so everyone likes to make fun of my love for canned pickled beets which i eat at least a couple times a week, staining the sink neon fuchsia. hmmm that color must be in it. A dark cake and light cake, a mousse and a cream. I love Helen over at Tartelette, i stare at her professional French pastries not only with respect and ency, but as, well, a pusher--she taught me how to do macarons, perhaps i am ready for this. So. With her coconut and mango layer cake as an inspiration, mine came to the party as a vegetable tier: to honor the four of us in our graduation...though we are all meat eaters, we do love a bit of vegetables every now and then. The two cakes: chocolate and zucchini genoise and a carrot spice genoise. The cream: sweet corn cream inspired by a Brazilian sweet corn ice cream that i stumbled upon at a blog a few months ago. The mousse: pear and beet juice baby. Glaze on top: Baby blue white chocolate of course. Why? Just because i love baby blue. I apologize for the absolute lack of photo for this cake, it turned out quite pretty, but was in process of being made up to the last minute...so there was no time for a proper photo shoot...but take my word along with its consumers that it was...a success! When they were all told what was in it, not only were they shocked, but somewhat relieved; you see--vegetables make people think they are being healthy. oh lala.

After consulting a few professionals--Christy and Helen thank you very very much--i decided to stop thinking about it all and just go for it. hell yeah i could do it all in 24 hours. just watch. I never thought i would actually go through 42 eggs in 24 hours...but i have seen the light. the macarons were of two different shells: 50 strawberry and 40 lemon, both with various dyes. The cream inside the strawberry shells was a vanilla buttercream, and inside the lemon a buttercream mixed with a homemade lemon curd provided by my neighbor (a professional caterer) who also lent me the use of her baking pans (thank you C i couldn't have done it without you!) The cupcakes were fairly simple, the same recipe as the cake from last August, though tripled. And the entremet cake, well, that one was a little nerve wracking, but it came together. I'd like to mention here that this was all produced in one uneven oven, done without mixing bowls (one of the roommates jumped the gun and packed up a bit early...what did i mix with? Rice and pasta pots that's what.) No food processor again...well...time to get out the magic bullet to grind those almonds again. But it all came together. Somehow it did, and in between i started that ever-joyous task of packing up. ah yes, i am a masochist. but i thought you knew that.

E, A and I delivered all the desserts to the restaurant ahead of time, just so they could get in the hands of the waiting staff and, well, i never told my parents what i was up to. When we all arrived to our private restaurant loft, the room lit up, and the party got started. The place was a hit, the food phenomenal, plenty of wine, mingling family members--a perfect way to end it in celebration of the best housemates i could ever ask for. And i won't lie to you all, seeing my desserts brought up by the staff, plated and looking professional--i finally felt like i was doing something right. And when the room clapped for me, i thought i would have to hold back some tears. The macarons--a hit. Anywhere in the US you will always find a room full of macaron virgins, for they are always completely shocked at the first bite: their eyes light up and they gasp, it's chewy!

The graduation ceremony followed the next morning at 9:30...and lasted until 1:00. mmmm aren't you sad you missed it? afterward--a little celebration, and the beginning of a lot of cleaning, and a lot of packing. does anything ever stand still? apparently not.

The recipe for the coconut cream and ginger sponge with white chocolate coconut butter cream can be found in the Salty Cod archive here, macarons, should always be attempted from instructions over at Tartelette, and the vegetable entremet cake--well, i have a hard time imaging the sound of it will draw many replicators, but if you are interested, please email me and i will gladly share with you more recipe details.

So this is it. 17 years of education done up. my four years of college both drug on and escaped me in a flash. What have i accomplished, what have i earned from all of this besides a massive student loan monthly payment? Well, i suppose i could say that in the last four years i learned how to be me. I have made friendships here at Gonzaga that i know will last a lifetime. I was given the opportunity to study what i enjoyed, which led me--as strange as it sounds, to the cod fish, the inspiration behind this very blog. It was also in my college dorm room where i first began my little love affair with baking; the dorm mates would love the muffins and shoddy looking biscotti left out for the taking on the community table on weekends...mixed and shaped over a bath towel on my dorm room floor of course.

Through the Gonzaga French program i was given the opportunity to live abroad a year in France to not only study, but to actually live as i wanted to live. It was for my abandoning of the English language for a year that i began this blog, to maintain my drippy little passion for this written word. Salty was started the summer before my departure, and i had no idea that it would come to be one of the most darling, useful, loving, and right things in my life. While in europe i got to know myself, the self that always was there, but that i never wanted anyone to see. France also made possible the meeting of a dear friend, who more than anything or anyone else has supported my ridiculousness since the beginning, unwavering. I could not have survived the transition back to the states nor made it through this last year of over-credited semesters, financial stress, a new job, and life in general without him.

This blog grew up in Europe, it got me to Portugal, and Portugal got me to my senior thesis. Food writing through Europe pushed me into the magazine i work for here in Spokane, and has solidified for me what and where i want to take this little life of mine. Maybe i'm afraid of what people think, the risks of trying such a field; photographer, writer--oh yes, they make so much money don't they...and what does any of this have to do with history and French? Well everything has brought me to this point. everything. nothing happens without the momentum of the event before it. my morue (French word for Cod) has lead me to this point today of exactly who i am. and he is going to lead me somewhere else tomorrow. i know i am not perfect, and i know there are many faults to be fixed; but what i have gained in these four years, i would not give up or trade for anything. My family, i could not have done this without you. My friends--in particular S, A, F, and E; oh screw it Sierra, Anneke, Faye and Erik, there is no Gonzaga without you. My professors, my employers, my bloggers, readers, the many people i met in Europe, the chefs, the writers, the photographers--in other words everyone who has helped me be me. And my best friend, to whom i wish to say that no matter what, these last few years are ours, and you have been irreplaceable through it all. I guess what i have learned in college--finally, it took four years to do it--is that life is about the people that are in it. everything else is just filler.

So what's next? We are grown up now? We have to move on, no more excuses, no more fall backs? Well, yeah, we gotta grow up someday. But does that mean we have to take our head out of the clouds?

i think not!

a bientot

What the Hell is That?!

Animalitos Baby. Muffin Style.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. If you are a baking blogger, then you, like me, are probably a relaxation baker. Had a bad day? Crash your car into a ditch? Break your right arm? Lose your best friend? or Just get out of a two hour exam on Alexander the Great and oh my god the names of his 30 some odd companions and advisers all bleed together on the page...Lysimachus the who? It's all Greek to me, or rather Macedonian, i suppose. But that's up and done. Fini. I have never needed to bake something so bad...but there's no flour. heart pounding. One stick of butter...is there even sugar? You see, we are moving out of this house in less than a week, so we are not buying anything in the hopes that it will run itself out instead of find its way to the garbage can...um, well, there's a giant bag of "animalitos," the one dollar mexican-import bland animal shaped cookies. hmmmm. on y va.

So really i just crushed animal crackers to a fine dusty powder. That's about it. Nothing special here. One cup animal powder, one cup oats, meh maybe i should melt that stick of butter...muscles are loosening...one egg. ok. cocoa powder and chocolate bits and pieces. Brown sugar, and white! use it all. better use both powder and soda for this one. Hmmm muffins are safest. And a crumble honey top because those are oh so chouette. Voila. As i cannot eat them, they sat a few moments waiting for a roommie to arrive-- "Here! eat! it's possible it's not edible, no rat poisoning or anything like that though, but you must let me know!" A starred back at me with a look of fear--she closed her eyes, mmmm, brilliant! excellent.

And these are random photos that have nothing to do with anything. but meh!

not that you need a recipe, but, well--
ingredients: 1 cup crushed animal cookies ~ 1 cup oats ~ 1 stick butter ~ 1 cup vanilla yogurt ~ .5 cups sugar ~ .5 cups brown sugar ~ .25 cups cocoa powder ~ 1 tsp baking powder ~ .5 tsp baking soda ~ 1 egg ~ cinnamon ~ chocolate bits (for the top: honey, brown sugar, crushed animal cookies, and oats)

Haha! A something from a nothing! As life should be.

ps. I must make a birthday wish to my baby brother--15 years old! damn just yesterday you were eating potatoes with spoons. you're my little animalito! when you were born i was a stringy 8 year old cry baby screaming "no! i hate boys! send him away!" you see, when my one and only bro bro was born, i already had three sisters. It was a girls only party in my mind. Don't worry brother, i like ya now at least. and thankfully i've stopped hating boys. well sorta. hehe.

a bientot

The Infamous Cutter Board...

Plate-less Cover Shots: naked, bare, and simple

Dear reader, yet another weekend gone by and no crazy dessert recipe proposal for you. Accept my sincerest apologies please. My week of final exams starts now, and it randomly happens to coincide with more photo shoots for my job than i thought humanly possible. Two cover shoots and five field assignments this weekend alone. Aiya. Are you telling me to study? D stands for Degree you know. So i thought i would take this flourless opportunity to attack the quandary that has been plaguing my mind for some weeks now: the question of the cutter board in food photography--when, how, and why to use it. So if you give a crap, read on!

First i must make mention and give a shout-out (Rockefeller Plaza style) to chef and photographer Matt Wright who writes his Seattle based blog over at WrightFood, and who undoubtedly has got some mad skilz with cutter board posed shots. As he is big on meat, seafood, and Asian influenced cuisine, when i was assigned a cover shoot for a fancy pants Asian Bistro downtown Coeur d'Alene; he was the first inspiration on the back of my mind. Meat + seafood + cutter board = bueno. Mr. Wright also suggested the parchment paper tip that turned out vital to these shots. Thanks Matt, these are for you.

Idaho Cuisine? You thought I worked for Spokane Sizzle? I do. They are owned by the same publisher. One and the same....in my book at least. Eastern Washington, Idaho, what's the difference? (don't pay attention to the words on the cover--they are just mock up space savers so they can see what it "might" look like. hehe.) Before the meat and fish lens molestation, i shot a cover for a natural foods market. Vegetable and herbs, what star models. Aiya. The crowd (let me just vent) around this shoot was the most enervating group of neck breathers to date. I knew the owner would be trouble, as the look he gave when i arrived with my boss (remember, im just about 23 years old) was a bit smirkish, and when my boss (J) bragged that i was "just about to graduate" he replied--from where? me--Gonzaga, he--Prep? (Gonzaga Preparatory is an equally over-priced Catholic high school in the area) me--no University. Do I look like i'm 17? He--hmmmm. If i hadn't needed all of my fingers to operate aperture and lens there would have been one digit sent quite vertical toward his direction. But i just smiled. Forget and forgive. Anyways, i asked if i could have a cutter board (in my mind i wanted to practice for the next shoot the following day) they actually obliged. Go figure.

I will tell you that during the entire shoot he was grumpy and anxious, "you're not doing what i want, are you done yet? can i play now?" I had to just ignore and look him square and say--please, you have to trust me. Trust. Me. Ok? Ok. Now cut that beet in half for me please and back off , you're giving me a tumor. When we left i could tell he was displeased--it's just an accepted fact that client hates photographer until they see the thumbnail proofs. Was that the case here? yes. Open mouth insert foot? Yes. Seeing is believing. That's the way my life goes. But you must trust me first; then you can see. Concept and words are never enough; people need concrete, need physicality in order to trust you. But trust you must.

After the market shoot i tailed after my boss to the Wine Cellar to "assist" (hold lights and put in my not-always-asked-for two cents) in another shoot for something else (with a real fancy pants photographer with a rolling bag of equipment and expensive lights. hmmm) and then get tipsy off free wine with the whole bourgeois crew. woohoo!

When i arrived a the Asian bistro shoot the next day, i was a little nervous of a repeat. Though pleasantly surprised was i to find find that i would be working with the head chef, and not the owner. Chefs are so much more pleasant to work with, store owners are a bit more tight assed. My apologies to any of you reading this who owns a shop--but well chefs are god-sends to work with; not only for the fact that i (not so secretly) envy and admire them, but because they care about how the food is going to look and be represented, and not themselves (ehem) the food is the star for them in the shot. Excellent. So when i asked for a cutter board and parchment paper he enthusiastically obliged, and he offered wine. woo what a job! No plates? he did ask, me--no plates, we want the naked beauty of this meat and critter (hella expensive Kobe beef and $40 shrimps. aiyyaaaa, just for me to molest) he--you're the photographer, i will get you whatever you need. Brilliant. What fun. Bloody meat, crawling food, no frilly little china plates to get in the way--bare food, i told him we would get the sexy shot; no makeup, no jewelry; raw, pure, and naked. And for this i need cutter boards and knives! I think they turned out, don't you?

So this is what i have learned about cutter boards: the older the better, the more scarred and warped the better--i wouldn't use a cutter board for a fancy cake or delicate baked good (bread--yes, quiche--maybe). Wood and knives--well, save your pastel espresso spoons for your tarts and verines. Cutter boards associate with simplicity and purity. A raw bloody hunk of meat. Oh yeahhhhhh. sell it baby. But don't go overboard, there must be a balance. Just like in real life, everything balances, in the end. This weekend i learned that life will never let everything be good: when one sector of your life summits, another plummets. I suppose it's just the way it is.

Well that's the cutter board report. This cover will be out in June. in case you were wondering. The rest of my weekend? Assistant at another shoot, coffee house story, home caterer story, and tomorrow a feature on an olive bar. Hot dog! and me with my one little lens. well you know what? I seem to hold my own against the ones with the fancy lenses, the high tech lights, umbrellas, and screens--so maybe it is about the photographer after all. There's no embarrassment in toting around a roll of parchment, a white priority mail box, and a mentality to chase the suns real pin light, natural or nothing--seeing is believing.

The hard part about all of this--turning what you love to do into a job, is that not everyone is going to like what you do. To accept criticism is a skill learned, as is to not allow that criticism to crush you. Nothing ever done first try is perfect; draft, draft, and draft again. I have no doubt that i will disappoint, get fired, asked to re-shoot, thrown out of town, punched in the face along the way. But each time i do, it will make the next shot just that much better. So i am counting on failure. If the grocery man decides instead to shoot an overflowing shopping bag--be my guest. I'll just have to try harder next time.

Well now you know the secret- it's just me and my one little lens. Just me, as i am, nothing more. But i will tell you that i think i am going to start trucking around my own cutter board to shoots. Do you doubt? Well you shouldn't. Now back to studying before i fail psychology. stressy weekend? trust me, you don't want to know. so get that blasted camera out of my face!

a bientot

Some Cidade Wandering

my neighbor's pretty chocolate cake,
& Cherry Blossoms for he who's never seen

I think cherry blossoms bloom overnight. I guess all things do, don't they. But they weren't here the night before, it was overnight, just one night and the sky changed from brown little pods to delicate pinky white petals. It's the little things we overlook; things that are often always there, swimming by unnoticed, and thought to appear only after recognition. but they've always been there. I usually take cherry blossoms for granted, a glance, a quiet smile, yeah not much ado, they'll always be back every season. But something's made me look closer, maybe it is to look for the both of us, you who have never seen them, or perhaps they have never been as beautiful before. But be quick! blink and they are gone. You see, time with them is short; really only a few weeks that fade faster than canvas shoes left out in the sun. Two weeks, maybe three, of perfectly perfumed air and overhead canopies so pink and plushy you can't help but exhale a grin and dream yourself into a woodcut scene at the imperial palace, kimono and all--aha, i knew i always loved Mulan the best of all the Disney princesses, though not a princess...what pretty little blossoms, wish i could have them forever.

Yes they bloom in Spokane. Actually, they bloom all over the United States; they were a gift you see, and really don't belong here at all. In 1912 Japan gifted a near three thousand cherry blossom trees (sakura) as a mark of friendship, because that's what you do with friends, send them forests in the mail (did you get the birch saplings i sent you last week yet?) New York, DC, Philidelphia, Los Angeles, Seattle--the Japanese native flaura is as prominent an indigenous figure in this country as is anything else. How lucky. Some people have never seen. So these are for you. Sakura cherry blossoms, in case you were wondering, are not fruit trees they are merely candy for the eyes, perhaps the reason why they are the Chinese symbol for feminine beauty and love. Well. That's that.

There's been a bit of wandering lately, wandering around this city that will only be mine for the next four weeks. Four years down to four weeks, how could this come so fast. let's catch it in a jar before we leave.

Apparently i live down the road from a caterer who is an incredibly talented baker. get to know your neighbors. On my way home from work i picked up E who requested a cookie baking date, he came to the car with a chocolate cake, dome stand and all. May i ask? he replies, i need to request some food photography, i'll pay you with wine. Deal. The cake was baked special by my neighbor (the caterer) as a one year anniversary present, as she is his "mother in law" no they're not married, but what else do you call the mother of your other? Anyways, the chocolate decadence cake available from Colleen Caters was undoubtedly a very pretty specimen, camera candy, if you will. And right down the road too.

oh what the hell, let's click one of those up there ~ theme "Spring"

Chocolate cakes look best with flowers around them. Cherry blossoms, oh how thematically connective. I am too clever. Cherry blossoms are good omens of fortune and spring love; yet simultaneously used in Japanese metaphor for the fleeting nature of life--love it while you can, and remember it when it's gone, because the reality is that it will always come back. Exotic to US soil, they now belong; returning each year to canopy paths even if only to decorate cakes. How romantic, how poetic--you are waiting for me to shout carpe diem, but instead i'll leave you with the fact that the popsicle stick bridge competition is that way, when you see arrows, follow.

a bientot

Salty + Sweet: Raisins

Norwegian Krumkake with Honey & "Rum" Raisin Mousse
+ picture book give away

Salty Sweet episode number two--yeah, we picked raisins; nature's little rabbit poos. tee hee. Raisin Mousse here at Salty's, and Raisin Macarons over at Sweet's. Enjoy.

It's coming onto winter in the Southern hemisphere, as it is coming onto summer in the north. Winter and fall are the seasons of preservation, when to make what bounty spring and summer held last. We can, we jam, we cure, and we dry. Well maybe not all we personally, i have never made a raisin before, but someone does, along with figs, and dates, and apricots; so that someone somewhere, during the off season, can yet find company with fruit. There is no greater a food group that i can praise aside from fruit, as i have said many times before, i am quite convinced that i could survive solely on a diet of mangoes and dried figs. Grapes, well, i prefer them pressed actually. But raisins none the less are delicious, yet highly unattractive health pills. Beauty is on the inside remember.

In the United States we don't associate raisins with winter or preservation, or what-have-you. We eat raisins year round as a convenient lunch box snack, thanks in near monopoly to California Sun-Made Raisins. Not that i complain, i could care less that there is one-globo size brand of raisins, they taste great to me, so why fuss. Either way, haven't we all at one point wanted to meet (or be?) the red-bonneted raisin girl? She looks so damn happy, staring off at some unknown gratification; or, perhaps she is exhausted by the weight of that grape basket she is holding. We'll never know. But we can assume she goes out at dawn with that basket to spread those plump little grapes over the hot rocks to dry in the California sun for our snacking pleasure. We all need childhood heroes; i wonder if she knows the Quaker oats man. "Just grapes and sunshine!" reads the box. How could you not love raisins.

I happen to prefer sultana blonde raisins, but my terribly shoddy grocery store was out of stock this week. how convenient. While i lived in France, raisins were as readily available, it appeared, as bread. Every grocery market stocked year-round dried fruit from the East--primarily form Turkey. Raisins secs, dried figs, dates, apricots--what the hell am i doing in France, i need to be in Turkey! 1.50euro for a whole bag. I recall purchasing a small bag of blonde raisins at a dingy market off the back end of Montparnasse, which i then proceeded to "eat and walk with" until a random man stopped me to say "those sure look good" (in French of course) i replied, do you want some? he, really? and i poured them into his hand. well that's fun. so from then on i offered freely to those who looked at me and my raisins, until the bag was bare. my relationship with the raisin was never the same again.

When Christy suggested raisins as our next topic, i thought, ah brilliant! they deserve! but--they are not very prominent in the baking world. hmmmm. Rum raisin ice cream is the extent of the love they get around here. Cinnamon raisin bread. Sprinkled on tapioca. hmmmm. I have been wanting to make Norwegian krumkake since i found someone i knew with an iron. Krumkake is a Norwegian cookie meaning bent cake, and are usually made during the Christmas season...hmm didn't get that memo. No matter, when do we follow rules. These are now summer cones.

But fill them with...raisin mousse? rum raisin mousse? How do you make raisin mousse? i'm thinking puree. I don't have any rum though, but i have cachaca. you don't know what that is? well, it sucks to be you, i've grown incredibly fond of it. according to the man at the Division street liquor store, i'm it's only purchaser. well more for me. But it tastes far better than rum and is slightly sweet, so those dry littler buggers need to take a swim. How about honey too. honey for my honeys. on y va.

Krumkake:
you will need a krumkake iron, like a pizzel pan. yes it's a bit specific, but if you are rich, go for it. if not...say a hail mary and go look for someone willing to lend you one.

ingredients: .5 cup flour ~ .5 cup sugar ~ 3 eggs ~ .5 cup butter ~ vanilla or an extract ~ 5 tbsps water
method: cream butter and sugar, add eggs, add flour, then stir in extract and water. 2) bake according to your machine, and then fold into cones before they harden. done.

Honey & "Rum" Raisin Mousse:
ingredients: 2 cups heavy cream ~ 3 egg yolks ~ 1.5 cups raisins ~ 1 tbsp cachaca (or rum) ~ 2 tbsps honey ~ .5 cups sugar ~ 1 packet gelatin or 4.5 sheets
method: 1) puree the raisins in a processor, they will be incredibly thick, transfer them to a bowl and stir in 2 tbsps water, the cachaca, and the honey. set aside. 2) dissolve gelatin in .25 cup cold water. set to another side (hehe) 3) whisk .5 cups cream, yolks, and .5 cups sugar 4) add gelatin to pureed raisins, and then add to the cream mixture. mix well 5) whip remaining cream until stiff peaks, fold in mixture gently, and refrigerate. then pipe into your krumkakes.

i shaped some of the cookies around the bottom of a water glass to harden and form a bowl, mousse bowl! how cute. we need edible spoons now.

Remember, with our Salty Sweet posts, we are trying to make things a bit "interactive" eh? And therefore have a treat to bestow upon someone each time. This episode, fearing the lacklustre of a complimentary box of raisins, we are happy to offer one random reader this exceptionally intriguing display of English literature--"How do You Raise a Raisin?" by Pam Munoz Ryan. Though laced with a paltry rhyme scheme, the illustrations are quite bright. 32 pages chock full of raisin history, agriculture, and trivia. hot dog! I could care less if you have a child or not. The reading level may be ages 5 through 8, but i enjoyed it all the same.

so leave a comment both here and over at Christy's by Sunday April 26th to be eligible to win such a prize. you will never look at raisins the same way again.

a bientot

Bunnies Eat Banana Bread

marbled loafs and shaky toes

Did you know that i cannot take photos at dawn. My eyes are too bleary. They refuse to focus no matter how earnestly i will them to. After a flash fear of the possibility of an eye-malady, i realized that at 5am it was not only the image, but the numbers on the screen that were blurry. Crap. time to call Nikon. eff my life. What the devil am i doing up at 5am mucking about with photos? When you find the answer please share it with me. Perhaps it's just fatigue then. Fatigue and the mountain of neuroses i have accumulated over the past few weeks (months, years?) maybe.

have you ever done something that seemed so perfect, so sensible (in a nonsensical way,) so overwhelmingly right that the consequences (no matter how gruesome the later loom in speculation) seemed to at the time not matter? why are the easiest things simultaneously the hardest. it becomes omnipresent. you begin to fold it over like a never ending 200 thread count cotton sheet in your subconscious, bending it into a swirling tide of self doubt. it is always a challenge to dress a bed, the sheet stretches one way and pulls up another, and even more the devil is the one that grows as it is spread--it began as a twin, now a double, then from queen to king, it magnifies into emperor and then god size; why attempt the impossible. so why is it that the one something you've wanted more than anything you can ever remember wanting before becomes the most sickeningly terrifying. So five am pre-dawns are the result; as beds, pillows, and night slips the enemies--no sleep for the anxious. no sleep for the crazies. Bake a bread. Drink a tea. Stir the glass. Five. Ten. maybe 12 times. clink. clink. clink. metal on ceramics. morning as the bell tolls to six. ding. ding. ding. So look through the lens: blur. Nothing is right. half closed, half alive; the photo gods will focus it for you, if you plead with them in desperate whisper for help. we all need help. but you must ask. Easter loaves at 5 am, for the long drive to Seattle. A long weekend. Let's get some sleep shall we. But first, a quick easter loaf--humble banana bread, and during the therapy baking session, maybe i will start to remember that we choose to act or not act. and we have to live with the result. what comes comes. you'll always be scared. but that's a given. and if you glaze and top the loaf before it is cool, it will not set and run off the sides in thin streaks. but if you run out of time and miss your chance as the morning draws on, then you will have no bread to take at all. so which will it be. but right now. please. focus. eyes shut. lens, focus. snap. perfect. on y va.

What to take home for easter. wine. duh. but eggs? if you want eggs i suggest you glance for but seven seconds at foodgawker and you will have all the eggs you need. so it turns that you really have no need for me in that. Instead how about something a bit simple, a bit average, a bit ordinary. A banana loaf. An innocent banana loaf. Marbled, perhaps like the bunny's eggs. Chocolate and banana marry together in perfect match of spring as do peanut butter and crumbled toppings. Easter bunny will be pleased. Egg salad sandwich? well hmmm, perhaps you should stick to wheat or white for that. But a scoop of ice cream never hurt anyone.

marbled chocolate banana bread with peanut cream and crumble topping:
ingredients (for one loaf) 2 cups flour ~ 2 eggs ~ 2 or 3 bananas ~ .25 cups cocoa powder ~ 1 tsp baking powder ~ 1 tsp baking soda ~ pinch of salt ~ pinch of cinnamon ~ 1 tbsp (+ maybe a little more ~ 1 packet vanilla sugar ~ 1 stick butter ~ 1 cup sugar 6 oz dark chocolate ~ 1 tbsp peanut butter ~ 1 cup powdered sugar ~ dehydrated banana chips

method: 1) cream butter, add sugar. 2) in a separate bowl, mash bananas with milk. 3) in yet another separate bowl, combine flour, powder, soda, salt, and cinnamon. 4) add eggs to butter mixture, add banana mixture. Add flour mixture. 5) divide batter into two, add cocoa powder and chocolate to half of the batter. 6) in a buttered loaf pan, spread the two different batters one cup at a time on top of each other, squiggle around if you want for a more marbled effect. 7) Bake for an hour or until done at 325. 8) in a small sauce pan heat powdered sugar, peanut butter, and milk until a thick little glaze 9) paint onto cooled bread loaf, and then cover with crushed banana chips and chopped chocolate.

Mes amies, please have a marvelous Easter holiday, i will enjoy the salty-gray Seattle sky that looms through the bay-size windows of the dentist office waiting room i currently write to you from, as i await dear S as she dances with the drill. Join us for a drink afterward? We will save you a seat. well, for a conversation with me, you will need one. For the blury camera this morning, well, all it was, in the end, was the adjustment switch next to the view finder. nothing to worry about afterall. it was all in my head. Until next week,

a bientot

Fun Fetti: I Challenge You to a Duel!

rainbow in a can? never dear sam i am.
just watch how high my nose can fly. Intimidation, undoubtedly, is not a good thing. Why in my psychology class just the other day we discussed the chapter on sexual psychology: women don't like short men. ok fine i can see that. Women like the outgoing types. yeah ok. Men don't like intimidating women. uh oh. Men like women who can cook. Well hey now, what if you are an intimidating cook? Does a tear in the universe occur from such a double negative? If it does you must find some other pansy to sew it up, for i am no seamstress. I don't find myself very intimidating in most things. Ok maybe just a little. hmmm. well. damn it.

Look at my three housemates; i have scared them into never attempting the act of baking, even a simple cake or cookie. Why? because they know somehow i would be watching and it scares them. Ahk! I would not judge you! i reply in my defense, innocent until S reminds: "remember when i made chocolate chip cookies? You sat like a buddha monk criss-crossed on top of the stove commenting here and there- you don't need to use that attachment. your butter isn't soft enough. you really don't need to use a kitchen aide for something like cookies. are you sure you want to put that in?" well. oops. i need to work on that.

Maybe it was a tuesday. A thursday probably. Her rowing team came over one night for a team spirit dinner of frozen lasagna. mmmm. someone must send Marie a thank you note. One of the lady's made dessert. A small wire cake tier suddenly appeared on the counter covered in box-cake fun fetti cupcakes glopped over the top with neon-blue dyed fun fetti frosting. my god what a horror, i thought as i walked by. When the broad shoulders had all gone home for the night (ooh my what a rotten cretin i have become!) S asked, "aren't these cute cakes?" of the dozen left over. I turn to her, hmmm, no. She frowns. "Come on, sometimes you just have to every now and then have a good fun fetti." I reply, um, no, no you don't. That is a betty crocker creation. And they look like something from the Cat in the Hat. "So you would never make a fun fetti?" Is that a challenge? Well, you are on. I will show you a fun fetti. Just you wait. There will be fun. there will be fetti. you will like it. now sit down and eat it! on y va.

I would not, could not, in a box.
I could not, would not, with a fox.
I will not eat them with a mouse.
I will not eat them in a house.
I will not eat them here or there.
I will not eat them anywhere.
I do not eat green eggs and ham.
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

Once upon a time T.S. Eliot told someone that, immature poets imitate; mature poets steal. Well i am not a poet, but i like to borrow all the same. when appropriate, of course. haughty discourse right now on April's cruelness would probably be a bit much for the present topic. However i feel the rightness to bring forward with this the mention of Dr. Seuss. I could conjecture that perhaps 43% of you who are reading are neither American or Canadian, and have never heard of Dr. Seuss. Or maybe you have and I am wrong. tut tut. The truth is it never occurred to me that there may be humans on this planet who had never heard of Dr. Seuss. That is my American egocentricity showing through again. Well I was talking with my editor, what about i can't quite recall at the moment, but it was some type of argument, and he made something rhyme to which i spat back ahh no i will not eat green eggs and ham! he-what? me-sam i am i won't! he-what on earth are you talking about, ham? me-green eggs and...Dr. Seuss, child's book author, you don't know Dr. Seuss? he-never heard of him. me-ahk! not only is that sad but damn it i sound like a whacko and my entire point is lost! The point is that there is no point for that story. Rarely do i have a point. But perhaps the only point is that i am now reminded of Dr. Suess's narrator and his refusal to eat Green Eggs and ham in a box, with a fox, etc. The plot continues after he snobbishly turns his nose until pestered to the cracking point he eventually gives in to try them and realizes he is quite fond of them. Our story here has nothing to do with that. Yet at the same time it does. Fun Fetti i turn my nose against you, but perhaps if we dressed you up a bit, turned you around, took you out of the box, saw you not as regular eggs and ham, but instead turned you green we could scream:

I do so like

green eggs and ham!
Thank you!
Thank you,
Sam-I-am!

To Salty Cod-ify Fun Fetti; One fish two fish red fish blue fish (that would be another quality title of a Dr. Seuss book) see now we are back to fish, one thing leads to another. it's our jingly jangly chains. We're all looking up at the same writing in the sky, but reading it differently. Toffee. No. Fish. I always read it as fish. So it is going to be a cake that has absolutely nothing to do with the classic other than the fetti. Could we have it any other way? No.

My fetti is undoubtedly the small minty pastel chips bought in bulk termed non pareils. S went on a mission to scout them. and she won. Freddy's and Safeway--you are dead to me. These pretty pastels are mint, however, so the cake must match. Chocolate cup cakes. But square instead. Mint. Thin Mints. Girl Scouts. Mint fudge layers with crushed chocolate cookies in between. The Fat Mint Fun Fetti Cake. Only on sale at the Salty Cod.

Fat Mint Fun Fetti Cake
cake
ingredients: 3/4 cup flour ~ 1 1/2 cups sugar ~ 1/2 cup cocoa powder ~ pinch salt ~ 2 eggs ~ 1/2 cup butter ~ 1/2 cup milk ~ 1 tsp baking powder ~ 1/2 tsp baking soda

method: cream butter and sugar. add eggs. add mixed dry ingredients. add milk. then. bake at 350. take it out. cool it. and cut it.

fudge: mint extract, 1 can condensed milk, 18 oz dark chocolate. melt it. stir it. and that's about it.

Fun Fetti frosting: 1/2 cup butter ~ powdered sugar ~ cream ~ chopped non pareils
beat butter, add sugar, add cream, add specks, pretty much just make it a thick buttercream to pipe.

*i bought classic chocolate waffer cookies to crumble and layer in between the fudge and cake, they make excellent for sandwich cookies with the left overs.

F said, as she sat in the African -Squiggle director chair perched in the corner of the kitchen, oh god. this is, wow, you've definately kicked fun fetti in the ass. Our job here is done. And my oh my what cute easter colors as well. The last thing to ask is could you would you with a goat? Well of course you could. If the goat liked mint, of course.

a bientot.