Imposed Ambition

In the process of setting some sort of course for the next several years, this was unexpectedly comforting. (Writing anything scholarly, particularly something so patently bullshit-laced as a statement of intent, always precipitates a wide-lens reevaluation of life plans. Plus free time plus the new year's approach, you get the picture.)

(I keep playing with the formatting in the next post and it just keeps getting worse. Sorry in advance.)

St. Julia

So I've dedicated December to the patron saint of the kitchen, Ms. Julia Child. As such, I've learned:

a) how to whip up a creme patissiere without a recipe

b) how to best and most efficiently separate eggs (by hand of course, who was I kidding with the shell-to-shell deal?

c) all that hype about Kitchenaids? Totally justified. I hearby commit to only eat meringue-based foods every day for the rest of my life. The eggs just come out so beautifully.

d) more than I thought possible about eggs in general?


Offerings/experiments:



Tartes aux fruits. I (with a lot of very good help) make like 100 of these for a friend's wedding. Beautiful, delicious, big pain. (We made a larger one for Christmas eve dinner and it was also great. Creme patissierre without a recipe I tell you.)







French onion soup. Yes it took 2.5 hours of carmelizing onions. Yes it was worth every minute. Even more delicious than the first time I tried. (These, of course, are just remnants. There was much of rushing boiling soup covered in drippy cheese to the table for the first 5 minutes of dinner. No time for pictures.)









Chocolate souffle. The joy of cooking indeed. This time I planned for the photo and was even wearing my new cardigan (so flashy). The verdict: chocolate souffle is a genius. And would've been prettier if we were more of a sit-down formal dessert eating bunch. As it was the 2 minutes I had before everything started falling to pieces wasn't quite enough. (Fallen souffle is still delicious.)









Anyway. I felt a little like my nieces and nephew who had come prepared with a musical program. Niece #2 danced, I made delicious and high-maintenance French cuisine. But isn't that what Christmas with family is all about? Anywho. Joyeaux Noel to the lot of you. :)

I'd just like to point out

the secret message hidden in my archive.

Why I love my job: I lied because you would worry pea hen.

Delightful.


Also, movies viewed so far this break:

Nick and Norah's Endless Playlist: Meh.
High Noon: Yes (Gary Cooper? Grace Kelly? Could one go wrong?)
Maltese Falcon: Yes (how is Bogart so charming and condescending simultaneously? Hm.)
12 Angry Men: Yes (like unexpectedly and entirely riveting)
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid: too long, but otherwise Yes. Also, Clooney and Pitt = Newman and Redford? Anyone?

AND days are getting longer. Bonus.

Christmas Break (TMI)

Kick off:

The entirety of Breakfast at Tiffany's
Bubble bath
Box of chocolates


Simultaneously.

:)

Why I love my job:

Sometimes the class is working feverishly at the not-easy portion of my final and there's that frantic scratching buzz in the air that means hard working and hand cramps and it's snowing outside and I'm correcting vocabulary:

7. What would be the most efficient/quickest way to starta a fracas right now?
by telling Strom he's a liar, Logan he's ugly, and Grace a preppy know it all.

Maybe you had to be there.

I lied.

So. I feel like I need to publish. My words make delicious pie? I'm eating it with ice cream right now.

The biggest issue is that I need to grow up and learn how to take care of myself. I know how, of course, but often make decisions that get in the way of the taking care of me. One Thursday morning when I was in the MTC I saw a very tiny looking elder eating a donut and rootbeer for breakfast and I laughed at him. How obviously just out of his parents house! Bahaha. (I was enjoying toast, cottage cheese, and mandarin oranges. As responsible as you can get on Sisco.) Moral of the story: Winterberry dear, you need to sleep.

BUT I have this theory and I think it's a breakthrough: what if there were such thing as a sleeping disorder? Not like sleep apnea or the crazy dancing legs one, (restless leg? something?), but in the same sense as eating disorders: denying oneself sleep in order to impose external order on internal turmoil? And I wouldn't be so hasty to jump to conclusions but I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who does it. In fact, I know a handful of you who are reading this post right now who know more about it than I do.
What do you think?

Anyway. Me hopped up on adrenaline, caffiene, and the Christmas treats that parents keep bringing, signing out. :)