I Couldn't Turn My Brain Off

"I'll keep remembering kisses from lips I've never owned, and all the lovely adventures that we have never known. One dream in my heart, one love to be living for. One love to be living for -- this nearly was mine." -- Rodgers and Hammerstein

I usually commute in a bubble. I'm aware of my surroundings, of course -- obliviousness is akin to a death wish in New York City -- but the hours I spend on the subway each day are my moments of zen. I read. I knit. I listen to music. I do the NY Times crossword puzzle. I play shoot-'em-up games on my iPod. I spend some quality time with my thoughts.

Today, I woke up to a thunderstorm. I threw together a new outfit better suited for rain, laced up my Chucks, shoved a pair of heels into my purse, grabbed the biggest umbrella I could find, and ventured out into the deluge.

Three quarters of a mile later, I arrived on the subway platform. I closed my umbrella, opened my purse, and faced every New York City commuter's worst nightmare. My iPod was still plugged into my laptop at home, as were my headphones. My pile of knitting was on the couch. My book was on the coffee table. My Moleskine was shoved between the pages of said book. I officially, horrifyingly, had nothing to distract me during my commute.

Hey, a seat! At least I can pretend to be asleep, though it's not nearly as effective a trick without my headphones. Can I keep my legs crossed? I usually feel bad keeping my legs crossed during rush hour because they get in the way of the people who are standing, but the train seems empty enough for me to get away with it today. No one is standing; I can definitely get away with it today. The guy across the aisle has the same headphones as me, but of course, he wouldn't know that because I LEFT MINE HOME. I have so much data entry at work, and it's going to suck -- I need background noise to tackle toxicity coding. Sweet Jesus, how am I only at 36th Avenue? This blue shirt looks terrible with my red DKNY cozy -- I feel like Superman. When I have a minute, I have to remember to wrap or tie it so it looks less like a cape. I wish I had the ability to leap tall buildings in a single bound like he does; maybe I'd get to work faster. The original clothes I ironed for today looked a lot better than this does... very good things happened the last time I wore that shirt. [Censored.] WHY ARE WE STOPPING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAMN TUNNEL?! Please let it not be flooded, please let it not be flooded. Of course, just my luck, the stupid tunnel would be flooded on the day I forget my... never mind, it's moving now. Ah, it's nice to be able to powerwalk down the platform without having 900 snotnosed kids and their stupid backpacks in my way. Though that's only going to last for a few more weeks... better enjoy it now. SIX TRAIN ON THE PLATFORM! OUTTA MY WAY! Whew. I need to start running again; two flights of stairs and a thirty-foot sprint isn't as easy as it used to be. Why is the 6 empty? Do people just not come to work when it rains? I'd love to see my PI's reaction if I tried that... his roof blew off last year and he still came to clinic. Someone drew a mustache on the Kim Raver billboard. She's like Jerry's girlfriend on the Festivus episode of Seinfeld... really gorgeous when you look at her from one angle and frightening when she turns her head a certain way. No, I would not like an AM New York... did you say there's a Macy's coupon inside? Nah, it'll get soaked on the way to clinic.

I didn't feel like spending another half-hour with my thoughts on the ride home, so I snagged some looseleaf on my way out of work and wrote this blog entry on the N train.

Backwards

"No one can give you courage. No one can thicken your skin. I will not fail so you can be comfortable. I will not lose because you can't win." -- Jason Robert Brown

I went out to pick up breakfast with my father this morning. As is the norm on a weekday, Bagel Works was packed with patrons, including one twentysomething man wearing a backwards Boston Red Sox cap. Never one to miss an opportunity to needle a fan of a team that sucked for 86 years, Dad locked eyes with the man and smirked.

"Your hat is on backwards," said Dad.

The man gave a pained sigh. "Yeah. They suck."

Dad blinked, said nothing. The man paid for his order and left.

Jacked Up

"Two drifters off to see the world; there's such a lot of world to see. We're after the same rainbow's end. It's just around the bend, my huckleberry friend." -- Henry Mancini and Johnny Mercer

New York City experienced a heat index of 110 yesterday, but instead of spending the day in front of the AC in shorts, I braved the weather and the subway system to patronize the Union Square greenmarket. Most of the fruits and vegetables I examined looked pathetic and wilted because of the heat, but by some miracle, I found a basket of perfect red currants.

I brought them home and decided to turn them into red currant mini-muffins, but halfway through adding the ingredients to a mixing bowl, I realized that I was craving chocolate. So, inspired by my new favorite Lindt chocolate flavor and this amazing cake on Epicurious, I broke out the cocoa powder and a bottle of Jack.

I've been in a rut with baking experiments lately, but these mini muffins turned out amazing. The whiskey made the chocolate flavor more complex, and the currants provided a little pop of tartness in every bite. These tasted even better the next day, so I'd recommend waiting overnight before enjoying them (or, if you're impatient, leaving the tray in front of the AC for twenty minutes when they come out of the oven... not that I did that last night, cough). You can also substitute a shot of orange juice or espresso for the whiskey in a pinch.

Red Currant Mini Muffins... With Chocolate and Whiskey

3/4 stick salted butter, softened

2 tbsp olive oil

3/4 cup sugar

1/4 tsp vanilla extract

1 egg

1 tbsp baking powder

1 cup flour

1/4 cup cocoa powder

1 shot of whiskey

1 cup red currants, stems removed and washed

Confectioner's sugar, for dusting

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Beat butter, olive oil, and sugar until fluffy, then beat in eggs, whiskey, and vanilla. Add baking powder, flour, and cocoa powder and mix until incorporated. Stir in red currants. Spoon into greased or lined miniature muffin trays; cups should be nearly full. Bake for 22 minutes or until muffin tops are browned. When muffins have cooled, remove from trays, arrange on a plate, and dust with confectioner's sugar. Makes thirty miniature muffins. (This will also make a dozen regular muffins -- bake for about 30 minutes instead, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.) These also taste better the next day, so patience is a virtue.

Trios

"You treat me like I'm a princess. I'm not used to liking that. You ask how my day was." -- Alanis Morissette

On my way to work yesterday morning, I shared a subway pole with three other women. They did not appear to know each other. All three women held books. One was reading The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, one was reading The Girl Who Played With Fire, and the last was reading The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest.

On my way home from work yesterday evening, I shared a subway pole with three other women. They did not appear to know each other. All three women were listening to iPods. One's iPod screen displayed the cover art of Glee: The Music, Volume 2, one's screen displayed Glee: The Power Of Madonna, and the last's screen displayed Glee: Showstoppers.

Photomosaic

"Don't you love farce? My fault, I fear. I thought that you want what I want -- sorry, my dear." -- Stephen Sondheim


I began writing this post in late 2008, saved it, and never published it. Tonight, while going back through all of my old blog posts to tag my entries by topic, I discovered the original draft and decided to rework it.

Instructions: Type your answer to each question into a Flick'r search. Using only the first page, pick an image. Copy and paste each of the URLs in the Mosaic Maker.

1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. What is your favorite drink?
7. What is your dream vacation?
8. What is your favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to do when you grow up?
10. Whom/what do you love most in life?
11. Choose one word that describes you?
12. What is your Flick'r name?


Most of these are obvious, but some ended up pretty strange. The bridge represents the color black. The ostrich indicates sarcasm. People with my first name like umbrellas. The ice cream is actually hazelnut gelato. And oddly enough, the coolest image associated with my answer to #3 was Rutila's version of the same photomosaic.


And yes, all of my past blog entries are now tagged by topic. Posts with recipes, music, the Yankees, soapbox rants, NYC stories, blatantly obvious double meanings, my many doppelgangers, etcetera ad nauseam all have a separate label in the sidebar, so have fun clicking.

Dinner With Friends

"I'm back with scars to show. Back to the streets I know. They never take me anywhere but here." -- The Weakerthans

I spent the weekend in DC, and to my surprise, the weather was mild and completely bearable. Of course, it was probably only bearable because it rained for most of Saturday. The rain didn't turn into a brilliant sunny day until late afternoon, so when that finally happened, I took a walk to the supermarket to grab some groceries for chicken cacciatore with farfalle, roasted broccoli, and bruschetta. Everything came together in an hour and I got a request to steal the recipes after we finished eating, so to make that process easier, I'm posting them here. Make the chicken first, then prepare the bruschetta topping, then make the broccoli, then finish preparing the bruschetta, then serve everything together.

Chicken Cacciatore with Farfalle

1 pound farfalle (bowtie) pasta

1 pound chicken cutlets

1 large (24 oz) can chopped tomatoes

Small basket of mushrooms, sliced

1/2 cup marsala wine

Five large basil leaves, shredded

1/2 tsp oregano

5 cloves garlic minced

1/2 large white onion, chopped

Pinch of salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Coat the bottom of a 9 x 13 baking dish with olive oil. Wash chicken and place in one layer in the bottom of the baking dish. Sprinkle on salt, pepper, oregano, and basil. Dump onion, garlic, and mushrooms on top of the chicken. Pour in the wine. Dump tomatoes on top of everything. Bake for one hour. Remove from oven and, using a knife and fork, shred the chicken into manageable pieces.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Prepare farfalle as you see fit, then drain pasta and mix with chicken cacciatore. Makes a formidable vat of pasta that can easily feed four hungry people.

Bruschetta

Half a loaf of Italian bread, sliced into 3/4" pieces

1 clove of garlic

1/4 white onion

2 plum tomatoes, diced

5 shredded basil leaves

Pinch of salt

1 tbsp olive oil

4 tbsp shredded parmesan cheese

Cut the clove of garlic in half -- reserve one piece and slice the other. Combine tomatoes, onion, basil, salt, olive oil, and sliced garlic in a small bowl and allow to marinate for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Lightly toast Italian bread slices, then rub one side of each slice with the half-clove of garlic. Top each slice with a sprinkle of parmesan cheese. Toast slices in the oven or a toaster oven until the crusts brown and the cheese melts. Allow slices to cool, then spoon some tomato mixture atop each slice. Serves four as an appetizer.

Easy Roasted Broccoli

1 large head broccoli, washed, with stem removed

Salt, pepper, olive oil

Toss broccoli florets in salt, pepper, and olive oil. Place on a baking sheet and roast at 375 degrees for 15 minutes. Serves however many people are capable of eating a head of broccoli.

Three Slices

"My advice is stand firm for what you believe in, until and unless logic and experience prove you wrong... and there's no aspect, no facet, no moment in life that can't be improved with pizza. Thank you." -- Daria Morgendorffer

I spent my morning in SoHo with Rutila, and by accident, our shopping trip was perfectly timed from beginning to end. She caught her bus, I caught my train, we arrived at 10 AM when the stores were opening and the streets were blissfully empty, we arrived at Lombardi's Pizzeria when the place had just opened, and we finished for the day just when Broadway started to get crowded. In commemoration of the three delicious slices of calamata olive and spinach pizza each of us consumed, I'm writing about three slices of our day.

1. Because I'm a crazy woman when it comes to makeup, skincare, and hair products, I had enough Sephora Beauty Insider points saved up to earn a 500 Point Perk today. (You get one "point" in your bank for every dollar you spend. Yep, I have a problem.) Anyway, my perk was a little shopping bag full of Benefit Cosmetics goodies, including a sample size of BADGal Plum mascara. It's a warm purple color designed to enhance one's eye color, but since I live and die by black mascara and black liquid liner, I was naturally skeptical. Miraculously, it works -- my normally nondescript brown eyes looked wider and more striking than usual today.

2. I purchased two cotton tanks -- one black and one slate blue -- at Uniqlo. The cut and quality felt identical to the J. Crew tank I was wearing... and they cost $4.90 apiece. I'm not sure if this is an indication of Uniqlo's general amazingness or J. Crew's slipping standards.

3. As always, Rutila and I lunched at Lombardi's, the oldest pizzeria in America and purveyor of the best coal-oven pie you'll ever devour. We arrived when the shop opened and shared a dining room with a crowd of about twenty visor-wearing, fanny pack-toting tourists. This normally isn't a problem, but we soon discovered that these tourists were on a pizza tour. Meaning they were accompanied by an overeager tour guide who spent half of our meal loudly delivering a lecture on all the crap you never wanted to learn about pizza. We heard about the pizza of New York City, the history of pizza, the composition of pizza, and the importance of staying hydrated while consuming pizza. The tourists were given pizza journals to record their undoubtedly profound observations about pizza, took turns visiting the kitchen to see the coal oven where the pizzas are made, and were instructed to look at the bottom crusts of their pizzas to observe the charring patterns.

Naturally, Rutila and I guffawed into our Italian sodas the entire time. We then began to chuckle audibly when the tour guide demonstrated "the semi-fold method" of eating a triangle slice -- which, allegedly, is the only way to eat pizza like a true New Yorker.

Note that Rutila and I were using knives and forks to eat our slices... and you can't get more Noo Yawk than the pair of us.

The tour guide then confided that the semi-fold method works on a scientific level "because it changes the moment of inertia of the slice." Yep. Cue the huge, ridiculous belly-laughs which earned us at least one withering glare from the tour guide.

And in an example of why the universe sucks, the pizzeria's top review on Yelp is written by some out-of-towner who calls herself a NY pizza expert after taking the same tour we overheard today! Hence the reason why Lombardi's mediocre website, not Yelp, is linked in this post. Too much asshattery for my taste.

Crab Gravy

"I am on your side. This house is empty. We could cross the line... yeah, we could make a big mistake. The silence breaks and you hear me say, 'Don't go! Don't go so far away!'" -- Jack's Mannequin

It's summer! Summer equals fishing trips, which equals fresh seafood -- and, last weekend, summer equaled someone handing me ten feisty blue crabs in a Hefty bag. They were too beautiful to turn into crab rolls or crab cakes, so I cooked them, cleaned them, and decided to use them in a pasta dish. (This decision also meant that my dinner guests, not me, would be responsible for shelling those bad boys. Score!)

I made crab gravy last night, and since it's my favorite way of eating crabs that doesn't involve frying or mayonnaise, I'm sharing it here. This dish is a bit labor-intensive, but it yields a sweet, delicate, flavorful tomato sauce that can't be matched by any other method. Add a vegetable and/or a big salad and you've got yourself an amazing meal. This recipe makes a pretty huge vat of gravy, so definitely halve it if you're feeding fewer than four people. You can also substitute shrimp for crabs -- or three cans of lump crab meat for whole crabs -- in a pinch.

If you've never cooked and cleaned live crabs before, read this for a quick-and-dirty primer.

Crab Gravy with Linguine

Enough whole crabs to feed six people, cooked and cleaned

Half a large white onion

Six cloves garlic

1/2 stick butter

1/2 cup white wine

2 tbsp lemon juice

1 24-oz (1 lb) can chopped tomatoes

1 24-oz (1 lb) can pureed tomatoes

1 tsp chili powder

1 tsp Old Bay seasoning

1 tbsp chopped fresh parsley

Pinch of salt and black pepper

1 lb linguine

Chop the onion and garlic. Add to the largest pot you own and sautee in butter until the onions become translucent and the garlic starts to brown. Add white wine and lemon juice and simmer for five minutes, then add tomatoes, one cup of water, and seasonings. Stir well and bring to a boil, then add the crabs to the pot, submerge in the sauce, and cover. Cook for one hour, stirring occasionally.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the linguine and cook to your preference. Strain cooked linguine into a large bowl and spoon crab gravy over the top. Feeds six hungry people, or four hungry people with leftovers. (You won't mind eating this one two nights in a row, though.) Make sure to have a nutcracker or a hammer handy so you can attack those crabs properly.

Frozen

"We had a drink in each cafe... you talked of politics, philosophy and I smiled like Mona Lisa. We had our chance. It was a fine and true romance. I can still recall our last summer. I still see it all." -- ABBA

When the weather is disgustingly warm (like it's been for the last few days), I get frozen yogurt cravings. Often. And since Pinkberry, Berrywild, Yolato, Red Mango and their ilk aren't located anywhere near me (and aren't exactly inexpensive, either), I sought an alternative today. I researched frozen yogurt recipes, I studied ice-cream making techniques, I brushed up on basic chemistry, and, miraculously, I created an absurdly easy fifteen-minute recipe that turned out one delicious serving of fat-free tart frozen yogurt.

Here it is, and you don't even need an ice cream maker for it. (You can still make it with an ice cream maker, of course -- simply mix all the ingredients in the bowl of the ice cream maker then process according to the manufacturer's instructions.)

Frozen Yogurt

1 level tablespoon sugar

1 tablespoon water

3 heaping tablespoons Fage 0% strained Greek yogurt

Two drops vanilla extract

Two sandwich-sized zippered freezer baggies

One gallon-sized zippered freezer baggie or one round coffee can with a lid

Two trays of ice cubes (or enough to half-fill the gallon Ziploc bag or completely fill the coffee can)

1/4 cup coarse salt

Add sugar, water, and vanilla to one of the small baggies, seal, and shake around until the sugar dissolves. Add yogurt to baggie, seal, double-bag with the second small baggie (removing as much air as possible) and squish with your fingers until thoroughly mixed.

Fill the large baggie or coffee can with half the ice and all the salt, place the baggie of yogurt atop the ice, then cover it with the rest of the ice. Seal the large baggie or can, removing as much air as possible, and roll it around for fifteen minutes.

Once the yogurt firms up, remove it from the ice and scoop or pipe it into a bowl. Top with whatever you want -- I used strawberries and honey on mine today -- and serve.

Incidentally, this was my first experiment using baggies, salt, and ice to make ice cream since fourth grade science class. Now that I know it works so well, expect lots more frozen dessert creations from me this summer!

Madman With A Box

"To hell with the 'raggedy.' Time to put on a show." -- the Eleventh Doctor

I haven't had to study for anything since I took my last college final two years and twenty days ago. I have a certification exam coming up in a few weeks, though, which means I'm currently calling all of my hard-earned and long-lost study skills into practice. I'm making slow progress on my huge stack of source material, but in the process, I've realized something horrifying: living a couple of blocks away from the Hungarian Pastry Shop and its bottomless coffee mugs during college ruined me for life, since I can no longer concentrate enough to study at home. As a result, in an effort to buckle down and get some work done, I've undertaken an unofficial tour of the coffee shops of New York City. And since the weather has been gorgeous, a lot of walking is involved.

Today, I walked a couple of miles to spend a few hours in my favorite bakery. I was dressed for a lazy Saturday, too -- dark jeans, high-top red Chuck Taylors, and one of my favorite t-shirts:

The graphic is a stylized portrait of David Tennant wearing 3D glasses in the 2006 season finale of Doctor Who. The episode aired way before David Tennant became a household name... not that the man in the image is recognizable as Tennant anyway. It also predates the show's popularity in America (and the Doctor's appearances on the sides of MTA buses) by half a decade. Point is, it's foreign, it's subtle, it's niche, and it's ridiculously obscure. Though I've worn the t-shirt regularly for the past three years, I can count on one hand the number of times someone has been able to positively identify the image's source.

Back to today's story. I studied at the bakery for a few hours, then I began walking to my next destination. Halfway down a residential block, I noticed an Orthodox priest walking towards me. How did I know he was an Orthodox priest? He looked exactly like the image that shows up on Wikipedia when you search for "Orthodox priest," robes, beard and all:

We locked eyes as we approached each other. I smiled and gave a little "good morning" nod. He gasped and pointed at my t-shirt. "That is my FAVORITE television show!" he exclaimed in a deep, heavily accented voice. After I picked up my jaw from the pavement, I told him that it was my favorite show, too. We then wished each other a good day and walked on.

I guess the Doctor transcends more than just time and space.