Snowy Roads (NOT a Metaphor for Life)

>_< I so should have brought my camera along on my drive back to Richmond today. Normally the turnpike is nothing to stare at (other than the amount of staring necessary for not crashing), but today, the sun was shining, the air was sparkling, and it was cold. There must have been a recent snowfall, too, the kind of snow that is made of big, fluffy, picturebook flakes, because the trees in the mountains were laced with white. I think the sight was impressive to me because of the sun, and the sharp rises and large expanses, and because the forest was deciduous, which eliminated green from the picture altogether...all that could be seen were thousands of bare branches encrusted with blinding snow. It was like driving through a cloud. Or a cauliflower. Or a gigantic Elizabethan ruff.

Anyway, I thought I'd be able to get a photo on google, but I was oh-so-wrong. The image will have to live on in words, and in my mind.

On an equally spacey note (this is what happens when I do essentially nothing for hours at a time by myself), how often do you think you look off into the distance? Living in a small town, working on a computer, and generally remaining within four walls, I don't think I hardly ever really look at anything that's more than 50 yards away...more often, probably less. But I think looking farther afield is quite interesting. I like perspective. I enjoy how distance dulls a view, and how everything is miniaturized, insignificant on the horizon. Did you know that - due to the earth's curve - on a beach looking out to sea, the horizon is about 3 miles away, depending on how tall you are? Whereas if you get onto a boat and climb up to the crow's nest 25 feet in the air, the distance you can see just about doubles. If the globe were a perfect sphere with one mountain, and that mountain were Mount Everest, on a clear day, a person could see about two-hundred miles from the top. Which now makes me wonder how far a person could see if they were standing on an infinitely long, infinitely flat plane.

I am getting boring. And it's getting late! First day of my last term of classes (undergrad...) tomorrow.

Pasta Time

It is my last supper here in Sewickley (boo) and, keeping to tradition, I'm going to try to make it a risky meal. Pear pasta anyone?

I had this dish in Florence at Trattoria 4 Leoni (Alyssa you may consider this your second shout-out), and I recently discovered the recipe online. In Italian. Wish me luck. Drea will be coming over later to make it with me...cottage pie leftovers are on standby.

THE RECIPE
Shells:
Ok so go ahead and make your own pasta if you want, but I found these pre-made wonton papers that I am going to try.

Otherwise, it's
400g semola
100g flour
3 eggs
a pinch of salt
and a "spoon" of extra virgin oil

Beat the eggs, add the flour, oil and salt "formed in a fountain"...??? (You see why I am using wontons). Let the dough rest, then draw it out, and cut discs about 10cm wide. Or something.

Filling:
200g ricotta
100g mascarpone
1 pear
A mysterious amount of parmigiano reggiano
salt and pepper

Peel the pear and cut it into small cubes to add to the cheeses, salt, and pepper. Place a teaspoon of filling into the middle of each disc/wonton/whatever and "close the flake as if it were a caramel" - this translation is insane, oh noes. We did it kind of like an envelope.

Sauce:
200g asparagus tips
100g cream
50g grated parmigiano
30g butter
1tbsp of flour
salt
"di foglioline di maggiorana" o "aneto" to add in the end. No idea what that means. Dill?

For the sauce, melt the butter in a frying pan and add the flour and cream. As soon as it starts to simmer, add the cheese (okay so at this point they also mention that they're using taleggio, a type of cheese not mentioned until now, which I have just omitted...) and salt, etc. Take the chopped asparagus tips, boil them for about 3 minutes, and add them to the mix.

Cook the pasta in plenty of salted water until they float to the top. Combine with the prepared sauce. And hopefully this is worth the effort.

This will serve "four peoples".

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THE VERDICT
Yay! I think everyone liked it? A lot? And the wontons worked great! We ended up doubling the recipe and feeding my parents and their friends. I did find a kitchen scale in the end to do the measurements, but next time I make it, I'll convert to a definitive volumetric scale rather than weights for all you Americans.

Also, Mom says to make it saucier.

Bees!

Je suis tres fatiguee and I think I will be going to bed embarrassingly early tonight. Like a little hibernating creature. On a Friday night.

Bees! I got a necklace with a bee on it for Christmas, I say because my nickname has (from time to time) been Emblebee or some variant thereupon, my parents say because I am a Queen Bee and have an inflated sense of what-have-you.

Anyway, as a good friend pointed out, did you know that (one of) Napoleon's symbols was a bee? The internet is rather unclear as to why - I am getting that "France is a republic with a head, like a beehive"; that "bees kick other - floral - royal symbols' butts"; or that "bees sting and also make honey"; or even that "Napoleon was cheap so he took the old fleur-de-lis draperies and hung them upside-down."

Also, bees apparently symbolize immortality and resurrection. Who knows. Something about how bees...okay or golden cicadas?...were used by France's earliest monarchs (Charlemagne/Childrec/Merovingians) and also ancient Egyptians (???). But maybe I think someone needs a crash course in entomology.

Anyway, lots of bee facts out there. Bzzz!

Watch This.

WATCH IT. You will need about four hours. It's called North and South, and it's like a Pride and Prejudice remix. Plus, a bonus striking workforce.

I have no critique. But I do have a photo.


Mmmm...he ranks up there (in my humble opinion) with Sir Percival Blakeney and Fitzwilliam Darcy, etc. Not a limp cravat in sight! And people wonder why I have such unreasonable expectations of men.

Plaiddy Laddie

I've just been watching Kidnapped, a Masterpiece Theatre show based on Robert Louis Stevenson's tale of Scottish rebels during the non-reign of Bonnie Prince Charlie.

So, in the spirit of kilted men and brogues and so on...here's a little craft for your cold winter nights.

And some tunes to play while you wile away the time. (It's probably a good idea to start with "Sean Connery for President".)

Contagious Sound

Yawns are contagious.

Swine flu is contagious.

What about noise?

Certainly, sound is memorable; I could go on for a bit now about echoic memory and how sound is interpreted in the brain...but I won't...anyway, everyone knows how a snippet of the latest excruciating pop disaster bounces around one's skull for days on end, and my sister (okay, my whole family) is a living example of how song lyrics, movie lines, and other odd snippets of conversation become ingrained in the mind - we have been known to have whole conversations in words that aren't actually ours.

Also, accents are quite sticky (some more than others): while I never picked up RP while living in Oxford, I had to make a conscious effort not to do so (on grounds of avoiding pretension and general poseurhood). And I can still, with minimal effort, recall the cadences and turns of phrase of a high school friend whose way of speaking was outstandingly contagious.

Tonight I was at a Penguin's game - and this is not such a change of subject as you might think, because midway through the second period, someone somewhere in the crowd started making this noise. It was a strange howling noise, somewhere between redneck and etherial (I know), starting quite high and dropping off quickly. By the end of the third, the entire stadium was howling like General Lee's rebel army.

Why? No one knows. It was "fun"...doing it once, quietly to myself, only made me want to do it more exuberantly. Wikipedia sheds no further light, though...If I were a true scientist, I would conduct further studies. But I'm on Christmas vacation.

Snow Day

It's perfectly frigid out there today...went sledding this afternoon though, followed by a big Thai dinner (and various German/Penna Dutch beers). I am now exhausted. Grandma sent me today in the mail a new coat she amazingly sewed for me, just in time as the lining of my peacoat is giving way. Stupid polyester - this is why I chose a silk lining and a 100% wool felted tweed for my new cloaky coat. It is glorious...I just need to move a few buttons on it and it will be all set to go (although I'll probably keep the trusty old pea around for day-to-day wear, despite the synthetic lining).


Today, I'm cheating by putting a photo here that has until lately been residing on the sidebar. Dad took it several years ago while we were in London...It's me walking down St. Christopher's Place on Christmas Eve, and it reminds me of how impressionists were sometimes influenced by the newly developing photography industry. Also, it reminds me of London at Christmas - layer upon layer of nostalgia. :)