Making It Real

This weekend we wandered (and by wandered, I mean took a long old drive) down to Pennsylvania.  We were hoping to catch the leaves changing, but knew that there was a chance that even heading south, we might miss them.  So we thought that to keep the folks and us entertained, we would go somewhere with alternatives, namely Amish country, and Gettysburg.  And those alternatives really were something else. 

I'm not going to go into it at length, yet - still processing - but Gettysburg was amazing.  We watched the Ken Burns Civil War documentary, but a lot of it jumbled together.  Nonetheless, Gettysburg stood out, and seeing the fields - with the seemingly haphazard memorials in fact accurately placed for each platoon, for a Confederate General's fall, for the line that the Army of Northern Virginia pierced but did not fully breach - brought home the scale and reality of it in a way that I had not previously been able to process. 

Nonetheless, the whole time, I had a nagging feeling in the back of my head that wanted to know what one of my favourite writers had said about Gettysburg.  I was sure he had visited; now I needed to know how he had processed it, his reactions.  And I think, as per usual, what he had to say is more interesting and useful, in many ways, than my own jumbled thoughts right now.  

How I Learned to Eat Fruit

Or:  Pour Sugar All over That Stuff.

I am not a big fruit eater.  Well, correction: When I am in a country where I can get certain fruits freshly grown and plucked, I will eat papaya, mango, pineapple, guava, figs, guanabana, 'til my every pore oozes with the scent of those fragrant, warm climes fruits.  I adore them.  But here on the Eastern Seaboard, the lack of freshness makes those fruits taste dull, metallic.  Not that I won't eat them at all, but they're usually slightly disappointing, unless you get extremely lucky.

And, other than watermelon during the ripe season,* I'm not a big fruit eater.  Blackberries just remind me of our bramble bushes in my back garden at home, where somehow my mother has the knack of growing pounds of the buggers each year.  Rambling through the thorns, picking up oozing, giant brambles and stuffing our faces with them, covering ourselves and our clothes in them - that's how blackberries should be eaten, not slightly cold and sour.  Raspberries I love, but somehow rarely pick up in the shops.

I'm trying to eat more and, to try something different, a while back I made a strawberry and rhubarb compote, based on an internet recipe I found, to have with waffles for breakfast.  (Can't imagine what put me in the mood).  I did; and it was great.  So I've been experimenting a little with my methods, and have come up with what I think is a pretty lovely way to eat breakfast.

Strawberry & Ginger & [AN Other Fruit] Breakfast Compote

First, I chop up one of the big boxes of strawberries you get here in the US.  I think they're about 1lb.  Cut off the stalks, chop up the fruit, and put into a frying pan/skillet over a low-medium heat.  If I have other fruit I want to throw in, I do those then, too.  Recently I've been using a couple of peaches.  Skins on (fibre!), but chopped up.  Then I add a bit of icing sugar.  In British terms, it's about 3.5oz, or around 100g.  In U.S. terms, it's not icing but confectioner's (or powdered) sugar, and it's about 3/4 cup.  Then I grate in a small knob of raw ginger - about 1 inch, cubed.  Then I bring it to the boil, which sounds weird, but the juices all bubble up.  You let it boil for a little while - maybe one-two minutes - stirring all the while, and then you reduce the heat so it's simmering.  That's the point at which I add balsamic vinegar.  Yes, it seems a bit restauranty, but the acid cuts through the sugariness of the strawberries, while the vinegar provides an unusual sweetness.  I also add black pepper, too, so that there is some heat with the pepper and the ginger.  Then some fresh mint from our back garden.  I shred in about 6 small leaves.  Then I just let it simmer down for about 30-45 minutes.  Weirdly, if you simmer it too low, you don't get as many of the juices; I think it's because the temperature isn't high enough to fully break down the fruit.  You have to be careful for the fruit sugars burning, but I like the mixture a little sticky and caramelized.

Then I whack on top of low-fat/whole grain waffles, and serve with either greek yogurt or sour cream; maybe with some chopped almonds or pumpkin seeds on top.  Either way: bonza.

* Admittedly, most of which I consume in the form of Murricanes.  

Unexplained Pause: The Sequel

After the first pause came the second.  It's hard to explain why this has happened.  It might be to do with my change in schedule with the new job, but it's not clear to me.  I've certainly worked more hours and yet blogged more in the past.

The new semester has started apace, with many projects going ahead and a flurry of activity and new people and names to learn.  Of course, the biggest change thus far is that TOH is actually living in the same state - it's bliss.  Of course, we can't make it that easy - he is working in another state, and like a demon right now, with so many things on.  So it's a transition period, in some ways, but it's still rather special to go to bed and wake up together. It's also nice to do domestic things - rearranging furniture and the garden; cook a lot... but we've probably not managed as much of the goals as we'd wanted.  We've certainly made little progress with Friday Night Lights (I know, I know, but, based on practice, we must revel in being so far behind with tv shows), and our aim to explore a new local place a week has not worked so well thus far.  We'll manage it, I'm sure.  The three-day weekend should help us have some time to do something local. I hope.

Six Songs of Me

The Guardian has been doing a rather jolly series of posts titled "Six Songs of Me." So, being an obsessive music listmaker, I had to do it, too.

What was the first song you ever bought?
Adam Ant - Goody Two Shoes
Well, it's not like I personally actually bought it, I don't think, but my parents bought it for me.  So that counts?  Maybe?  In actual fact, I can't remember the first thing I bought with my own money.  I really can't.  So I'm going for this.  I played it all the time, on 7", in my mum's front room.  I absolutely loved it.

What song always gets you dancing?
Slum Village - Forth & Back / Bel Biv Devoe - Poison

This answer is another contingent answer - you see, there are numerous songs that will get me out to the dance floor.  Numerous.  But if by "dancing" you mean literally unable to stand still, then Forth & Back is the one.  It is insanely danceable.  The only downside - there is just nowhere that this gets played out, which is a travesty.  For a guaranteed dance floor jaunt, out of songs that are likely to be played, then Poison wins, although similar results come from This Is How We Do It and No Diggity.  Because, well, obviously.

What song takes you back to your childhood?

Wishing Well by Terence Trent D'arby. My mum LOVED him, and anything by him reminds me of trips in our blue cavalier and the tape deck. Many, many tapes.


What is your perfect love song?
Ain't No Sunshine - Bill Withers
It's short and to the point - I don't like my life when the person I love is not around.  It's beautifully undemonstrative, showy, or ostentatious; his delivery is perfect and does not detract from the simplicity of the song and its message.  However, a far more emotive singer, Jeff Buckley, would have my next two.  Lover, You Should Have Come over rarely fails to make me sob at least a little at the yearning, mourning, and melancholy within as he lists what he would give up to have her back; Everybody Here Wants You has a sparse arrangement which works wonderful with the beautiful richness of his voice. 



What song would you want at your funeral?
LCD Soundsystem - All My Friends
Because it makes me happy beyond all measure, it's about getting old and spending time with people you love but it not always going the way it should. And I've listened and danced and jumped and cried to it more times than I can count.

Time for the encore. One last song that makes you, you.
Orbital - Chime.   
This is my happy place song.  No matter where I am, what I'm doing, what mood I'm in, this is what lifts me up.  Every single time.  It works everywhere and anywhere.  We were zooming along the road in Kefalonia on our last night, sad to be leaving the beautiful place and our wonderful holiday, and yet, this song did not feel out of place. It never does.  

Judging

There is a great bit in High Fidelity - I'm talking about the movie, but presuming it's in the book, but have never read any Nick Hornby (overwhelmingly put off by his Goonerness which is, weirdly enough, relevant to this post) - where Jack Black's character points out that what is important in a person is not what they're like, but what they like.  This is a prejudice I share - hence refusing to read Nick Hornby, it seems.  If his judgment about a football team is so wrong, how could I trust him on other things?

This little bit was brought to mind by the flight back to NYC after a couple of weeks in Europe (more on that later, possibly).  The gentleman in front of TOH was alternating between doing work, and watching movies.  The work appeared to be some sort of presentation on encouraging adults to learn and participate in education (their own, I think).  The problem was, I could not take that work truly seriously, because I'd seen him voluntarily watch and laugh at American Reunion, the latest installment in the American Pie series, and pretty bad, according to a wide variety of pretty reliable sources.  Then, however, he chose to watch Battleship, and all his credibility leached out - why on earth would you voluntarily watch that?

On the other hand, I should be a tad generous, because I am a subscriber to the belief that the usual rules about what one should watch moviewise are shifted while in the air.  For example, although I would never usually watch anything with her in while on the ground, Sandra Bullock movies are not only fair game but welcome while aboard.  So, really, I can't talk.  But given that I watched a Danish thriller (total schlock, but whatever, subtitles, and it's not Battleship) and a gritty, surprisingly good slice of an ex-con's life in Wild Bill, I could at least feel morally superior on that one flight.