Tessa: I made this the other day and it was fantastic. I substituted veggie broth for the chicken broth but other than that there was no cheating whatsoever. I got this from Culinate.com which is a nice foodie site. Go and check it out. The author Carrie Floyd adapted this recipe from the Silver Palate Cookbook. I think the apples in this recipe really add a nice twist to this soup. Continue reading
Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
Tessa: Okay so I’ve been reading Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides for going on three months now. No, it’s not a seven book series with a combined page count of 15,966 pages. It’s 596 pages with a respectable font size. And really how can an epic coming of age story of a hermaphrodite growing up in the sixties in Detroit to American Greek parents be dull? The very idea of sexual ambiguity to me is fascinating. But am I the only one who thinks that this reads more like three separate books?
Although I found each story fascinating, the book as a whole doesn’t completely work for me. The first part which takes place in Smyrna, Turkey details the love affair and harrowing escape of Calliope’s (our ambiguously sexed hero/ine) grandparents. Their flight from their small village, the burning of Smyrna and its devastation, their love affair en route to the New World, could have worked as a small novella in itself. How Eugenides carefully pulls you into the re-invention of Calliope’s grandparents from brother and sister to husband and wife as they make the journey to their new lives, is beautifully seductive and wonderfully rendered. So much so that I forgot all about Calliope who only makes brief appearances as the third person narrator piecing together her genetic history.
Now comes part two of the book…and again it’s remarkable for its evocation of Detroit in the 30s, 40s, 50s and 60s from the perspective of immigrant families making their lives in America. The shock of acclimatization, Lefty’s speakeasy, rum running, Detroit riots and families bonding together through language and common experience, give you a keen sense of how cultural enclaves are created. Although Calliope appears intermittently, as a man living in Berlin, she is woven very peripherally into the immediate tale. We understand her genetic history: her parents are cousins and her grandparents are brothers and sisters but there is still no sense of who she is, only where she comes from. It’s only in the third part of the book that Calliope really appears. As a teenager she is cognizant of the fact that she is not who she thinks she is. Her stuffed training bra can no longer disguise the long sinewy body of a young man and the thing she longs for above all else, breasts and menses, never make the hoped for appearance.
This last part of the book is really interesting because you’re dealing with a character whose slow painful reckoning of her utter differentness is set against a backdrop of middle class America before gay rights (much less transgender/transexual rights) had any public currency. There is no way she is going to fit in. Anywhere. And slowly you realize the enormity of her situation. Being different is never fun. Being a sexually ambiguous teenager is a nightmare. And even though Calli chooses to live her life out as a man which is her dominant sex, he still traverses that line somewhere between being a man and not quite being a man because of the partially formed ‘crocus like’ protuberance that is his penis. He is and he isn’t.
I guess the question is, would I read this book again? Truthfully I’m not sure. There were parts of it that I thought were really amazing and other parts I found myself skipping through. I know this book did well and was critically well received but for me it didn’t really hang together as well as I thought it could have.
Filed under Book Reviews
French Macaroni Gratin
Tessa: Here comes another recipe we tested. This one is TOO good to be true. It’s simple, easy and super delicious. I found it in Diane Clement’s cookbook Zest for Life. She calls it Vicki’s French Macaroni Gratin. It’s basically penne with loads of goat cheese baked to perfection.
Here goes:
4 cups penne
1/2 cup nicoise or any brine cured imported black olives pitted
5 tomatoes, peeled and coarsely chopped
1 tbsp. fresh thyme
2 tbsp olive oil
salt and pepper to taste
11/2 cups chevre cheese
1 cup fresh parmesan
I actually cheated and threw in some mozarella because hey, the more cheese the better.
Method:
Cook the pasta according to the directions on the package. Drain. Add all remaining ingredients except the Parmesan cheese. Spoon into 13x9x2 inch casserole. Sprinkle parmesan over top and bake at 400Fahrenheit for 25 to 30 minutes.
Filed under Recipes, Salads and Main Courses
Killer Minestrone by Maryana Voldstedt with some innovations by ME.
I’ve been holding out on posting recipes partly due to lack of inspiration and partly due to the fact that corporate job was reducing me to a steady diet of grilled cheese sandwiches. This weekend I had a chance to try a few new things out and they were fantastic so I’m going to share them with you.
I got this from a great book called The Big Books of Soups and Stews by Maryana Vollstedt. There are lots of great recipes in here for vegetarians and meat eaters alike. And there are lots that can be adapted for vegetarians as well. Continue reading
When Moths Die
Every Tuesday morning I go skating. This morning was no different than any other. I got up early. Felt bitter. Drank my coffee and drove in the dark and rain to the rink. We started our practice and it felt okay. I did some laps when suddenly I noticed a moth on the ice. It was fluttering around trying to gain enough traction to fly away but it couldn’t.I intended to pick him up on the next lap and put him out of harm’s way but by the time I came around again someone else had found him and was busy stomping on his fluttering wings. It was a sixteen year old kid. My friend Gayle and I yelled at him at the same time to stop and she skated over and picked the moth up and brought him to the side of the rink and put him in a safe place…or as safe as he could be in that situation.
Gayle looked at me and said you know it’s funny, when Michael (her son) was little, we used to go to Granville Island all the time and we would sit outside where all the pidgeons were. All the kids would chase the pidgeons she said, but I never let him do that.
That really made me like Gayle.
Filed under Random Musing
Anton Newcombe: Brian Jonestown Massacre in Vancouver
Last night Dave and I went to go see Brian Jonestown Massacre at the Commodore. We’re both big fans of Anton’s music and so we were pretty excited at seeing him live for the first time. It took a while for the band to play their set and as time went on the crowd pressed closer and closer around us.
We were close to the stage and had to fight back a few aggressive people who I guess thought they could muscle their way in. Two of them pushed their way through at separate times saying, “Hey, man you mind if I get in there? I want to take some pictures. This is probably the last time I’m going to see Anton live again. I’ll move out quick.” “Yeah, sure go right ahead.” “Hey, Anton’s not in a good mood tonight.” he said with a half smile. “I don’t want to be in throwing range. I was backstage and he didn’t recognize me but I got him to take his medicine. You know his medicine, heh? We’re friends.” Yeah, friends. Right. He said that with the smugness of someone who sees himself close to the flame but is mainly there to witness the spectacle of public self-destruction.
So it was in anticipation that we waited for the band to take the stage. I guess anything can happen with Anton.
But lucky for us they did take the stage. And lucky for us they did play. Was it a completely pleasant experience? No. Anton, it turns out wasn’t in a good state of mind, so he terrorized his band and was nasty and a bit hostile to the audience but he was prepared to play his heart out because that’s his zone. And he did just that until some fucking asshole threw a broken beer bottle at him. That person was there for the spectacle and not for Anton’s music.
Anton’s first album is called Thank God For Mental Illness. Maybe because his dad killed himself or maybe because Anton himself suffers from mental illness. I’m not sure. But it was with a real mixture of sadness and joy that I watched him. He’s a trainwreck of a person with an amazing amount of talent. His heart and soul go into his music and no matter what you say, it’s still amazing to witness that kind of raw talent. I hope Anton’s life doesn’t get so hard that he doesn’t stick around to continue creating great music.
Filed under Random Musing
The love for your pet…. priceless
Dave: So I’ve learn ed a few things over the last little while; there are people who unconditionally love animals and then there are the other people.
I remember when I bought my VW Jetta VR6 a few years ago (now sold), it was a pretty hot little car. Everyone was very supportive and congratulated me on such a nice purchase; “Great car, way to go, nice job”.
Now we jump ahead to this last month when some of these same people found that the cost of all Reuben’s surgeries, was roughly the same as the car. All I saw was raised eyebrows, wide eyes and large inhales of breath… and even a couple of head shakes.
So let me think this through; a large hunk of air polluting metal or, an animal that brings our family unimaginable amounts of joy every day… hmmmmm.
Another dog was in the cage next to Reuben at the hospital. He had had the same emergency as Reub and his intestines had failed to hold after the second surgery. The owners decided that they didn’t want to go for a third surgery, even though their dog was only five and if the operation was successful, he would have been 100%. We couldn’t figure it out… we thought the money must have been an issue, until we saw them drive away in their Lexus.
I think you do what you have to do, you make it work. After four surgeries Reuben is doing fantastic. He’s making us laugh again… he’s family.
Our family member, or a fancy car?…. I know what gives us more joy.
Filed under Animal Activism, Random Musing
Brian Jonestown Massacre
Nevertheless by The Brian Jonestown Massacre
Dave: If you’ve never heard of the “Brian Jonestown Massacre” you’re missing out on a great band. Have a listen. They play the Commodore ballroom September 8th, only $20.
Filed under Random Musing
Bali Restaurant in Scheveningen, Holland – Sprawling History 1
Tessa: There used to be an Indonesian restaurant in Scheveningen, Holland called Bali. The restaurant looked like an old house that had been renovated. As a child my family used to travel to Holland frequently to visit and this was one restaurant we would always go to. First we would pick up my grandmother, Nenny, who lived in Den Hague (The Hague) and off we would go. Those visits always included my mom and dad, my sister Petra, brother John and if my exiled sister Jokelee was in town from Switzerland, she would be there too, along assorted aunts, uncles and cousins.
Even though we would often eat indonesian food at home going to a restaurant like this was a big treat because we would order the entire rijstafel that included alot of things I didn’t know. AND bonus my dad would order in this strange language that was neither Dutch nor English. What is that, I asked? What? he’d say. That language. Malay, he answered. What’s Malay? A language spoken in Indonesia. How come you’re speaking it? Because that’s where I’m from. Really? Yes. Does she speak it? I said pointing to my grandmother. No. Why? At which my grandmother looked at me and said, I speak only Dutch. Ik spreek alleen Nederlands.
I think that was the first time, although certainly not the last time, I realized my dad was something other than what I thought he was. As a six year old I don’t think you actually think about things in that kind of a way but I definitely knew in that moment that both he and my grandma were different even if she denied it. And the only reason I could figure that out was because even though my dad spoke that funny language he looked like me; blonde and blue-eyed, and my grandmother was dark and exotic like our waiters. For that brief moment that a kid cares or pays attention to those kinds of things it just seemed twisted.
That was my first introduction to Indonesia, a place that my father, his brother and sister and my grandmother were all born and raised.
Filed under Random Musing
Tall Tales: A Sprawling Family History
Tessa: My mom just left after visiting for two weeks from Port Credit, a small town just outside Toronto that lies on the southern end of Lake Ontario where I grew up.
My mom is interesting for a number of reasons, most of them too complicated to get into but one of the things that I like about her is that she, like my father, is an interesting storyteller. My father was more of a tall tales kinda guy who would wow you with stories from his life that were so outrageous that you knew that only some of it could be true if anything at all.
My mother, on the other hand, is less a storyteller than she is someone who has led an interesting life and from time to time she shares it with you. I used to joke and say that I was the offspring of two lying, thieving bon vivants so how could I ever be expected to have any moral compass…and while this is obviously not completely true, except in my father’s case, in which he did go to jail for seven years for defrauding a company, amongst other things….my mother is less a liar, and maybe more of something along the lines of a petty thief and only against my brother on occasions when she feels particularly hard done by him.
So all in all I realize that my family life and lore, amidst its sordidness and its glory is fertile ground for retelling and that’s what I hope to do here from time to time. Because of my own hazy memory and the nature of my parents’ storytelling alot of it will of course be bull, but I will recount the best I can the basic framework on which I can hang these tall tales.
Filed under Uncategorized
Condofire 